Hola! New chapter! Sorry it's late but uhh... think this one will be pretty awesome ;)

Oh, there are a couple of awkward lines that I don't know how got there or how to get rid of, so sorry, and please bear with me in this time of technological faux-paws. (see what I did there? bear, and then paws? heh. Its almost 3 am where I am now, so ignore my horrible puns.)

Now, enjoy!

Four maintained a conversation as he lead her out of the apartment into a dingy hall way, down a flight of damp stairs, and then out through a narrow doorway into a cracked concrete parking lot littered with trash, and a few banged up cars.

Tris tried to participate in the narrative at first, but her head still pounded painfully, and the experience of walking through a space that she knew she had been through before but had no memory of being in was just way. Too. Weird.

Four lead her to a battered car at the far end of the lot, and Tris shivered, glad for her sweatshirt. (Or rather, Four's aunt's sweatshirt. And her gratefulness was saying rather a lot- it was a huge, pill-y black polartec, dotted with spots of discoloration and smelling rather strongly of, oddly enough, garlic.) Still, though, it was soft and cuddly, and the damp wind swirling around the lot made her very happy (or at least, very happy relative to her baseline emotion) to be basically wearing a hug, albeit a hug from a random person, as it were.

"So, Tris," Four glanced at her sideways, breaking up his monologue. "What's next?"

"What- what do you mean, what's next?" They stopped walking at the car, a beat-up dark blue Toyota. Four faced her across the hood, silhouetted in the cold light. His eyes were still the electric, magical sapphire that they had been the first time Tris had met him, when she was still Beatrice, girl with two parents and a brother and no complicated relationships.

"Well-" He smiled, slightly, a crooked crack in the pale expanse of his face. "Where are you going to go? Do you have any family that you can get in touch with, now?"

Family? Tris sighed. "Not really. We moved around a lot when I was little. And, uh, my parents families didn't agree to the marriage, so we aren't really in contact with them."

Four unlocked the car door and slid inside, Tris following behind him. The car smelled musty, and the upholstery (if you could even call the cracked beige vinyl that) seemed to be held together primarily by brownish duck tape, but it was warmer than outside. Tris leaned back against the headrest, which whined its creaky protest, and then turned to look back at Four.

"I think you're going to have to get in touch with them, Tris." He leaned over, and for a second Tris thought he was going to kiss her. What he did next was almost more intimate, though. He lifted one finger and gently brushed a loose strand of hair off of her cheek. His eyes glowed in the dim car. "You have no one else."

"Well…" Tris sighed. The place where his fingers touched her was tingling, even as she tried to draw her awareness away from it. If there was anything the last night had taught her, it was that he was not interested. "How do I even do that? We don't even have, like, a lawyer to do stuff!" She wasn't really sure what a lawyer would do, but she recalled from her middle school SVU glory days (i.e. when she had no glory of any kind and therefore watched far too much TV) lawyers were always popping up with contracts that cleared everything up.

Four just shrugged. He arched his back, almost catlike, and stretched deeply. His t-shirt rode up just the slightest bit, revealing his taut stomach, chiseled marble dotted with fine hair. He interlaced his fingers above his head, tilting his head back even further, and his shirt slid up another inch. Suddenly, his stomach was not just a lean milky expanse, but rather, striped with purplish nebulas of bruises and welts, oddly beautiful blooms of pinks and yellows and blues and blacks through Tris's suddenly teary eyes.

Maybe it was just her whacked-out, overdone emotions, but there was something about seeing how brutally marred Four's beautiful body was that really got her.

"Four," she breathed, almost without thinking. She wanted to reach out and touch him, to feel his pulse dancing in him, but something held her back.

He tugged down his shirt, dropping out of his stretch as immediately as he had arced into it. "It's really nothing," he said sharply. Too sharply.

"Oh yeah? So tell me about that nothing!" Tris retorted, filled with a brazen determination that had seemingly come to her from thin air. Four looked away. "C'mon, Four… I've seen you with… bruises-" the word seemed to mundane, too childish, for the grossly saturated welts dotting his body, but Tris had not better way of saying it, "-like this before. You need to talk to someone, get help for whatever it is!"

Four turned back to her, shaking his head. "Talk to someone? What do you fucking think this is, 'High School Musical'? Like who, my aunt, who works all night and half the day to afford to live in that shithole? My mom, who bailed on us when I was 9?"

Tris shrank back. Four's anger filled the space between them, an unforgiving boulder on the verge of crushing them both.

"Just…" Four sighed, seeing the fear on Tris's face. "Just stay out of it. You're too…" He looked at her for a second, and then his bright eyes skittered away. "Nevermind."

"No, what?" The boulder seemingly averted for the moment, Tris's curiosity was back.

Four lifted his gaze to stare directly at her. He had a truly amazing focus, Tris reflected as she tried not to look away.

"You're too beautiful and- and perfect. My world is a shithole but you, you aren't. How can I let you come when I know that the disaster that I am will just corrupt you and take everything pure and perfect and wonderful about you and spit it back as anger? How could I do that to someone I love like you, Tris?"

He stopped, his cheeks flushed, chest heaving, and Tris stared at him, barely breathing. Was that real? Had he just said those things to her, Tris Prior?

She leaned forward, inhaling the sweet, spicy scent of his, her eyes sliding shut.

In a moment, his lips were on hers. Hard and soft, heat and chills, his hands on her back, her shirt, her hair, her's clutching and grasping and stroking. Their bodies were pressed together, tight and nestled, a knot wound together.

And then-

Brrrrrriiiiiiing! Brrrrriiiiiing!

"What the hell?" Four pulled away, his cheeks red, pulling his phone off the dashboard and glancing at it. "Unknown number." He sighed. "I should pick that up. It could be the factory, or my dad or someone."

Tris noticed the way his eyebrows puckered when he said "dad," but she said nothing. In truth, she wasn't sure what she could say. Their kisses had left her dizzy and her mind reeling. She shrugged, and took a deep breath. Things were moving so fast, and she was starting to feel like her brain was left down the road a few miles behind.

"Yeah, that's me," Four was saying into the phone, looking puzzled. "What?!" His expression turned to one of downright shock. "Uh, I- I guess? Okay."

He put down the phone, and turned to face Tris, his expression one of pure shock. "It's these people from some agency down by the river. They want you to come in."

"Me? Why? What?"

Four took a deep breath. "They want to talk to you about how your parents died. They say that have information to give you."

"So, remind me what exactly we're doing? Because I'd prefer not to believe we're actually going to a place that some creepy stalker on the phone told you to take me," Tris said, irritated, as Four turned down a busy city street, whistling tunelessly,

"Nah, that's exactly what we're doing," Four replied, oddly upbeat considering what Tris perceived to be the impending doom of the situation. "But hey, c'mon, they sounded legit, and anyway…. Don't you want to know everything you can about what happened?"

Tris couldn't deny that. Left alone in the world, a thought she knew she was not yet able to properly process, all she had was curiosity and questions. She knew -or rather, she hoped –that more information would make everything make more sense.

She turned to stare out the window, watching thick gray building slide by. She hadn't been to the downtown of the city since she'd moved, which was only a few weeks ago, despite it feeling like a lifetime. It looked fairly similar to the corporate area of every place she'd ever been, expect that it was built on a river- in the gaps between building, the pewter gray waters of the river that bisected the city frothed in the wind.

"And- here we are, I think, " said Four, pulling up next to an almost eerily unadorned building built purely out of glass and white marble. In retrospect, Tris couldn't believe she hadn't noticed it gleaming, even in the dull light, considering how bright it shone, but in a way, it almost melted in with it's surroundings, despite how shocking it was up close.

Four stopped the car and cut the ignition, and then turned to look at Tris. "This is all you now. I can't go in. They wanted you."

Tris nodded slowly. She knew that this was something she had to do alone, no matter how much she wished Four, strong, beautiful Four, could be there with her. Swallowing her anxiety (or at least trying to), Tris steeled herself. She nodded once more to Four, not trusting herself to say anything, and then got out of the car.

It was windy by the river, and she pulled the tatty sweatshirt around her. Under the gleam of the building, she felt even shabbier than she had before, but there was nothing to be done about that. She scanned the façade quickly, and located the door- a task surprisingly deceptive.

The door was a glass slab embedded in the marble edifice, with no markings of any kind to distinguish it from the sweeping windows around it. Tris approached the door, but before she could pull it open, it swooshed open, hissing quietly, from the inside. A moment later a tall young woman, garbed in a white pencil skirt and white blazer, appeared around the side of the door.

"Tris Prior?" She asked, her voice sharp but quiet.

"Uh, uh, y-yeah," Tris answered, cursing her lack of eloquence, or even, like, ability to say her own name with confidence.

The woman nodded brusquely, and then beckoned Tris come inside, before turning and retreating back through the doorway.

Tris was too shocked to do anything but follow. In an English class, they had learned about the suspension of belief that takes place when a reader reads a fantasy novel. Now, she felt like it was happening in real life. Her brain had accepted that what was going on was too weird of words, and therefore, she wasn't truly reacting to what was happening.

Inside the building, the light was even more dazzling than before. Like the outside, it was built in white and silver only, and the walls, high and circled by rows of rooms (Tris realized they must be in a courtyard- atrium type of area) shone like . . . . . well, something very bright. The area was filled with people dressed like the woman who had greeted Tris in shades of crisp white, and there was a bubbling hum of conversation.

"This way, let's go." The woman tapped her foot impatiently, and Tris hurriedly crossed the room to where she was standing, in the doorway of a clear elevator. Tris stepped inside, and glanced around. She had been in clear elevators before, but this was like…. A super clear elevator. There were no black cables and wired, no heavy dark tech pieces making it work. It was all clear. The woman pressed a (clear) button the control panel, and the elevator zoomed upwards.

Tris tried not to look at the ground, but even a quick glance was enough to make her queasy.

The woman glanced at her, and cracked a hint of a smile. "It takes some getting used to."

For the second time in just a few minutes, Tris just nodded, but this time, she was more worried about literally throwing up than just saying something dumb.

Finally, after what seemed like an eternity but was likely only to be a few stomach-swirling seconds, the elevator whooshed to a stop next to a white doorway. Tris got out quickly, not looking through the glass berth at the ground beneath them as the elevator zoomed away again.

"Now then," the white-clad woman said, all steel again," right through that door. Come along."

She proceeded forward, her white patent leather heels clicking against white marble floors. Tris followed her down an airy hallway, and then stopped, while the woman knocked on a silvery door at the end of the hall.

She stepped aside, and gestured for Tris to go in. "Here we are."

Tris had no idea where "here" was, or really who "we" was, but she got the sense that now was not the time to have an existential crisis of what she was. Instead, she pushed open the door and stepped into a small, almost intimate room.

Unlike the rest of the building, it was not all white. Well, it would have been save for a pot of shockingly violet orchids swimming in a pool of white liquid.

"Lovely, aren't they?"

Tris jumped. She hadn't noticed the speaker, a woman seated behind the glass desk the flowers rested upon. In fact, there were actually two people in the room. The speaker, and a man.

"Uh-uh-"

The man smiled thinly. "Calm down, child. Take a seat."

Tris did as she was told, lowering herself slowly into a white armchair opposite the two people. She glanced at the people, fully taking stock of her environment. The woman was of an undeterminable age, with slick blonde hair pulled back into some sort of braid, wearing (surprise, surprise) a white dress. The man was clearly younger, but more heavyset, a belly spilling over the waist of his white pants. His hair was darker as well, and a shadow of a mustache grew on his cheeks.

"I'm Matthew Liber," he said with another thin smile.

"Rita Reginam," the woman said. "Now," she continued, interlacing her fingers on the desk, "I'm sure you have a lot of questions." She held up a finger, motioning for Tris to let her finish talking. "But I think you have to start out knowing that your parents were spies."

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