Beatrice

This day could not have gone any slower. Between school dragging, and working an extra hour handing out clothes to the Factionless, for once I am thankful to sit down to a quiet, although late, dinner. It means I'm one step closer to lights out, and one step closer to meeting Four.

"So, Caleb, Beatrice, what are they teaching you now in Faction History? I know that they had that letter program. Did they replace it with anything?" our father asks.
I shake my head. "No. Nothing. We're focusing on Abnegation now, actually."
"Oh? Which part?"
"Basically how our faction came to give without taking, and how we learn from helping those in need," Caleb answers.

I lower my head and allow them to continue on without me. I'm not interested in this, any of this, right now. I'm tuned in just enough to be able to answer anything should I need to, when something Caleb says catches my attention.
"But what if we didn't help the Factionless?"

I look up and catch my father glaring at Caleb. "What are you saying, Caleb? That you agree with Erudite?"
"No, no. That's not what I'm saying at all," Caleb stutters out. "What I meant was what if there weren't any Factionless? What if they never became Factionless in the first place? Then what would we do?"
My mother smiles and pats my father's hand gently as she says, "Then we would find another way, Caleb. There is always someone in need. They just don't always ask for it."

Caleb nods and turns his attention back to his food. My mother is still patting my father on the hand, and with both of their attention on each other, I sneak a quick glance in his direction. A look of total relief on his face, and I know he's lying.

My brother never lies.

As I lie in bed listening to my father's soft snores, I move my watch into the dim moonlight to check the time. The Abnegation turn their lights out at 10 pm even though the city allows them to stay on until midnight. It's been almost forty-five minutes; everyone should be asleep already.

I slowly make my way downstairs, pausing only when the second to last step creaks. I stand perfectly still trying to think of how to explain to my parents why I'm fully dressed when I should be asleep, but they never come. I breathe out a sigh of relief and slip out the front door.

When I close the door to the overflow building, it is much darker than I anticipated. I take a few steps in the direction I need to go but stop and wait for my eyes to adjust instead. I can't quite tell if the thin door is cracked open or not, so let out a quiet "Four?"

"I'm here," an unmistakably masculine voice replies, and it takes me a bit by surprise. Then again, what did I expect? A sliver of light suddenly shines out from underneath the door, and as it slowly opens, my breath catches in my throat.

The boy with the blue eyes is staring back at me.

He gestures me forward and after a moments hesitation, I go. He closes the door behind me, and as he sets the flashlight on a shelf, I can see the look of disbelief on his face too.

"Well," he says. "This is..."
"Awkward?" I finish.
He chuckles slightly and nods his head. He may have a deep voice and he is definitely much larger than I am, but he's nervous too, and that makes me feel just a bit more comfortable.

We stand there for a little while, neither one quite knowing what to do. Each time one of us catches the others eye, we both look away quickly. I clear my throat and open my mouth to say something, but he rushes his words out first, perhaps in an effort to show me that he's willing to go first.

"So, I guess we have a lot of things to talk about," he says. "And I know you wanted me to go first, but can I at least know your name?"
"It's Beatrice," I reply. At that moment, knowing I snuck out of my house to stand in a storage room with a boy from Dauntless, that name suddenly seems so proper, and not at all fitting.
"Beatrice," he replies.
"It sounds weird to hear you say it."
"Do you want me to call you Six?"
"Yes. And no. I don't know. All of it seems too...formal? None of it seems right, you know, for this type of moment."

This time he smiles. "I know exactly how you feel. Tell you what, why don't you pick a new name? Something that does feel right for this moment."
I smile too and think about it. "How about...Tris."
"Tris," he says. "I like it."

Hearing him say it, I like it too.

"So, Tris. I believe you have some things you want to discuss?"
"Yeah, I do," I say. It's odd, because as much as I wanted to know in my letters, it seems sort of stupid and trivial now. Four is here, right here in front of me. He's a real person and not just words on a piece of paper anymore. And maybe it's the Abnegation in me, or maybe it's just human nature, but I don't want to know all of his secrets anymore, well, not right away at least. He has them for a reason.

"What should I call you?" I ask.
"I know this is going to be hard to believe, but in Dauntless, they call me Four."
"They call you Four?" I ask, raising one eyebrow. "Why?"
"Initiation. I wanted to escape, the same way I think you do, and when the opportunity came up, I gladly accepted the nickname and created a new me."
I nod. Not only do I understand him, he seems to understand me too. "Do you like the new you?"

He let's a loud breath out through his nose, and looks down. I wait patiently for his response, but when he turns slightly to grab a bucket and holds it out to me, I raise an eyebrow at him. He raises an eyebrow back at me, so I take it. He grabs one for himself too, and I follow suit as he turns it upside down and sits.

"Yes and no. Things are very rarely that simple, don't you think? Like I said before, I could have easily became the same person I am now without having to transfer to Dauntless. Part of me feels like a coward for not even trying, and part of me wonders if that statement really is true. And yet another part wonders if this is really what I want to be, or even who I'm meant to be."

I nod, echoing his feelings with my own. "Do you think we'll ever live a life without this doubt?" I ask.
He shakes his head slowly. "No. You might still have a small chance, but I don't. I feel like every single thing I do comes with a hundred questions attached, and consequences I could have never dreamed of."
"I think I know how you feel," I say.
"Well then, I guess there's not much hope for either of us, is there?" A small smile finds its way to his face, but it has nothing to do with happiness, and everything to do with realizing a truth he doesn't want to.

"What do you want to be?" I ask softly.
He lowers his head and chews on his thumbnail for a second. It's only now that I see his hand is bloodied and swollen, and I wonder what he had to do to get that. He looks up to catch me staring, and quickly pulls his hand down so it rests with the other one between his legs.
"Happy," he answers.

I don't know much about Fours past; his childhood, his original faction, his life now. But I do know pain and longing when I see it in his eyes. I've seen it many times in the eyes of the Factionless; I wonder if I would see that same look in my own.

I reach out and take his hand in mine, slowly examining it for injuries. Through the drying blood and the swelling, I can see scars and scabs too; this isn't the first time this has happened. When I do the same to his other hand, he takes in a small breath, but doesn't protest. A quick glance up finds his eyes locked onto mine. "Come on," I say as I stand. He stands too and grabs the flashlight as I lead him out into the main warehouse, hand in hand.

My heart beats a steady, hard beat as I lead him to the other side, and into a bathroom. He closes the door behind us and sits the flashlight down on the floor, causing eerie shadows to manifest all around us. His eyes appear dark and hollow, and it causes an uneasy feeling in me; almost as though I have seen this before. I shake my head once and push the odd thought aside. The shadows are dishonest anyways; the light always tells the truth.

I turn the faucet on and pull him towards me; close enough that we share breaths.
"What happened?" I whisper.
"Punching bag. You don't have to, my hands will be fine," he whispers back.
"I want to." He nods and I guide his hand into the stream.

He winces at first as the cold water runs over his hands, but relaxes as I gently run my own over them, washing away the blood and soothing the ache. The first aid kit above me yields nothing but antiseptic, so I apply it carefully after they are clean.

"It's not healing salve, but at least they won't get infected," I say as I pat them dry.
"Thank you," he says. I look into his eyes, and for the first time in my life, I don't want to lower my head and look away.

I can see a light in them, despite the darkness.

We stand like that for a few minutes before he speaks. "I should go. I don't want to miss the last train."
"Okay."

This time he takes my hand and leads me through the warehouse. I smile a little as I think about what my parents taught me; touching is not something to do lightly, because every touch means something.

I like his touch.

I miss it the second he releases my hand to check that it's okay to leave.

"Are you going to be okay going home?"
"Yeah, I'm fine. I'll be fine."
"Okay," he says, hesitating just a beat. "Do you want to-"
"Yes," I blurt out. He smiles. "Sorry," I say, embarrassed by my enthusiasm.
"It's okay. Same time?"
"Yes."
"Okay. See you next week then."

I nod and slip out the door. As we head our opposite ways, I take one last look back before I turn the corner and see him do the same. I give a small wave and he nods his head just before he slips out of view.

A/N:

Just wanted to leave a quick thanks for the reviews you guys are leaving me. All of them make me smile like a goofball, and it makes me happy that you're enjoying this story.