A/N: Wow... 2,000 reviews! You are truly a wonderful group of readers to bring this story so far, and I can't tell you how much I appreciate your support. It means so much to me to see reviews continuing to come in for a story that I completed so long ago. Truly, thank you all so much!

In celebration of passing the 2,000 point, I'm posting an additional epilogue from Tris' point of view. I hope you enjoy it!

Epilogue 2: Tris – School

It's a brisk November day, and I pull my jacket more tightly around me as we walk the long route to Abigail's school. My eyes wander over my husband as they so often do, watching the way the wind plays with his hair. After all the years he kept it Abnegation-short, I still find it surprising sometimes to see the strands blowing in the breeze.

"You ready for this?" Tobias asks, giving my hand a squeeze as he meets my gaze. To be honest, he's right to wonder. I've certainly faced much larger and more hostile audiences than where we're heading, but there's something intimidating about the idea of sitting down with sixteen first graders to discuss how we changed their lives.

"I don't know," I mutter. "If we screw up, do you think Abigail will ever forgive us?"

Tobias just chuckles. "She's too much like you not to."

It's always funny to me when he mentions how much our daughter takes after me, because I see so much of him in her. But I suppose that's our original faction showing through – we each want to see the other, because we love each other more than ourselves.

"Besides," he adds as we stop at an intersection to wait for traffic, "they're six. How dangerous can they be?"

"Hmm," I answer, my lips twitching as I remember my fear landscape from so many years ago. "I recall six being a pretty scary number."

A small smile forms on his face as he pulls me closer. "True," he murmurs, brushing his lips along my cheek, "but I like it much better than seven, so we should definitely talk to them this year."

This time, it's my turn to laugh. Wrapping my hands behind his neck, I pull his mouth to mine, letting myself lose all tension to his presence. By the time we pull apart, I feel ready to face the unknown yet again today. We've tackled it together so many times, I have no doubt that it will be fine.

It would be helpful if they had some adult-sized chairs, but we don't complain as we take our seats in the circle that Ms. Connor set up. It's not much of a problem for me, but Tobias looks more than a little uncertain as he perches on the tiny chair that seems unlikely to support his weight.

He's wearing his "Four" face as he moves his gaze over the kids, but they seem utterly unintimidated. Perhaps it's because he looks ridiculously oversized straddling his seat, or maybe they're all a bit Dauntless at heart, but they seem to like his tough guy look. It makes me smile to see the way they take to him.

"Okay," I begin, drawing their attention, "as Ms. Connor said, we're here to talk about what NUSA was like. And about what we did to stop them and to form the UCA. And about why we did what we did."

I pause as sixteen pairs of small eyes look at me, and suddenly I have no idea how to get them to understand any of this. They've been studying the subject for the entire school year so far, as part of the fifteenth anniversary of the UCA, but that doesn't change the fact that none of them were alive during the time we're here to discuss. They only really know the world as it is now.

But I take a deep breath and begin anyway. "I guess we should start by telling you what the country was like then, since it was very different from how things are today." One of the boys looks like he wants to interrupt, but Ms. Connor makes a shushing motion, and he stays quiet.

"In today's world, we have many, many choices. We get to decide where we live – whether it's in a faction or not – and what job we have, and we can change that at any time. We get to see our families and friends whenever we want. We get paid for our work, so we're able to eat and buy clothes and have homes. We also get to go to school and learn, and if we get sick or hurt, we can go to a doctor. Back when I was your age, we didn't have all of that."

I look at Tobias, thinking about how his mother lived factionless for so many years. Perhaps he's thinking the same thing, because he nods before starting to speak. "Back then, there were only five factions, and everyone had to pick one of them if they wanted to live a good life. You also only had one chance to pick – when you were sixteen – and you weren't allowed to change your mind after that. So, if you didn't like the faction you picked or if they decided they didn't want you, you were left factionless. Or you died."

A few of the kids look startled by his blunt statement, but he continues anyway. "And being factionless back then was nothing like it is now. You all think of it as meaning that your home isn't in a faction. But then, it meant that you didn't have a home at all. And that meant that you didn't have heat in the wintertime, and you didn't always have food. You also couldn't go to school or see a doctor." The kids shift in their chairs, muttering indignantly, and I find myself feeling proud of how difficult it is for them to imagine treating others that way.

My voice is quiet when I speak again. "That was our world at the time all of this began. I had grown up in Abnegation, but when I was sixteen, I had to choose where to spend the rest of my life. I knew that if I changed factions, I would have to leave my family and friends behind. Forever." Abigail's mouth opens a little, her eyes conveying a mix of horror and sorrow at the thought.

I clear my throat. "But as Tobias said, we only had one chance to pick a faction then, and we had to live with that choice for the rest of our lives. So, I knew that if I stayed in Abnegation, I would have to follow all of its rules, even if I didn't agree with them. And I would have to be loyal only to it – I couldn't also be brave like the Dauntless or smart like the Erudite or anything else. Only selfless." I shake my head sadly. "I needed more than that. So, I left for Dauntless, where I thought maybe I could be free."

Tobias reaches out, taking my hand and giving it a gentle squeeze. My eyes find his, and I speak more to him than to the others. "It was a very hard choice, but it shaped my life in a lot of good ways. It helped me figure out who I was, and what I believed in. And that I liked parts of all the factions, not just one. It's also where I met some of the best friends I've ever had." I smile a little. "And it's where I met Tobias. Without him…well, everything would be different."

For a moment, I'm silent, thinking about all the effects of that Choosing Day, both good and bad. In many ways, it's linked to my parents' deaths. For a long time, I was haunted by their decisions to sacrifice themselves for me. Those choices almost destroyed me. And yet if they hadn't done what they did, none of us would be here now. NUSA would have wiped out the whole city.

Turning back to the children, I say, "But I think what I learned most is that we needed more choices. For ourselves and for everyone else. For all of you. And for everyone outside Chicago, too."

Clearing my throat again, I continue. "You see, it was even worse outside this city. There, most people were like the factionless were here. They were starving, and living on the streets in tents, and no one helped them. They didn't even help each other."

"Why not?" a girl in yellow protests.

Tobias answers her. "Because that's how they were taught to behave. Their whole lives, they learned to obey the rules no matter who it hurt. They weren't allowed to think for themselves. They were told lies over and over, and they learned to believe those. They were scared, and anyone who dared to stand up was…."

He pauses, apparently remembering how young his audience is and deciding not to tell them how many people NUSA executed. Awkwardly, he adds, "Well, they were punished, so they learned not to be brave. And finally, they were taught to only take care of themselves and to be selfish. Basically, they were taught the opposite of everything the factions teach here."

"But why did they listen to that?" a boy in Candor black and white asks. "Didn't they know it wasn't true?"

That's a difficult question to answer, and Tobias and I look at each other before I respond. "Do you know what a serum is?" There's a pause before several of the kids try to answer at once, and I realize that they must have covered the subject while learning about the Chicago Civil War – and Jeanine's simulation. Or maybe while studying Candor.

"Okay, well, they were given a serum that made them believe what they were told. It was kind of the opposite of Candor's truth serum. And the NUSA government sent messages right into their heads." I reach out, placing my finger directly on Abigail's forehead. "So, there was no way not to listen to them. And they did that over and over, every day. The people thought it was normal, because it was all they knew. So, no, they didn't realize it was a lie. They had no idea."

Tobias' voice is deep when he adds, "Our mission was to help them see the truth. We wanted to free them from all of the lies, and from the control that NUSA had over them, so they could decide for themselves how they wanted to live. But that was a tough thing to actually do."

He pauses as we both struggle to come up with an analogy that will make sense to these kids.

Finally, Tobias sits up a bit, an idea obviously occurring to him. "How many of you know how to read?" About half of them raise their hands, though some seem doubtful about their answer. "It's pretty hard to learn, isn't it?" He looks around the circle as some of the kids nod bashfully. "It takes time – and a lot of practice. And someone has to teach you. You don't just wake up one day knowing how to do it."

"That's right," I chime in. "Now, try to imagine if you lived someplace where no one knew how to read. Where no one had even heard of books, or writing, or reading. So, there was no one to teach you, and no books to practice with, and no pencils or pens or paper or anything like that. You wouldn't ever learn to read in a place like that, would you?"

A number of their brows furrow uncertainly, and some of them mutter protests, but it quickly becomes clear that they understand.

"If you had grown up somewhere like that," I continue, "and then one day, someone came and said, 'Hey, you're allowed to read now,' what do you think would happen?" I'm met with blank stares. "Would you suddenly know how to read?"

It's like watching light bulbs go on as their eyes light up. "No," they chorus together, before breaking into a series of enthusiastic responses.

"We would still need books."

"And a teacher."

"I don't even know how now."

I raise my volume a little to be heard over them. "Well, that's a lot like what happened in NUSA. People spent their whole lives learning to do what they were told. They never saw anyone come up with ideas, or make choices, or help other people. They didn't know that was even possible. And they certainly had no idea how to do it themselves."

I give them a sad smile. "So, Tobias knew that if he just went in there and said, 'You're free now,' it would never have worked. They needed to learn how to do things differently."

Tobias nods. His voice is thoughtful when he picks up the discussion. "I chose to teach them by using the factions as a starting point. So, I used their own machine to show the people some new ideas – right inside their heads the same way NUSA sent them lies. But I told them the truth."

He squeezes my hand again. "I knew that I had to show them real examples of what the factions teach – show them a real person making those kinds of choices. That was the only way to help them understand." The side of his mouth lifts. "So, I decided to show them the best person I knew: Tris." Abigail lights up with pride.

"I showed them lots of things that she'd done – and why she did those things. Whether it was to be selfless like the Abnegation, or brave like the Dauntless, or smart like the Erudite." His eyes move to children from each of those factions as he states their virtues. "Or kind like the Amity, or honest like the Candor. Or all of that together."

He smiles a little. "I kept showing them until they learned the same lessons that the factions teach. The same kinds of things all of you know." He focuses on the boy that Abigail pointed out as Billy. "I've heard that some people call that brainwashing, and in some ways it was. But everyone needs a starting point, and that was the best one I could give them."

He shrugs. "I'd do it again in the same situation."

Billy's eyebrows crease. "But didn't you make them all love her?" He points somewhat accusingly at me. "And then put her in charge? That's what my father says."

The side of Tobias' mouth puckers in annoyance. "Not really, no. I showed them a lot of the good things that she'd done, and I told them to follow her example. So, yes, people wanted to like her and listen to her, but she earned their trust and respect and love by doing a great job."

It's not an entirely true statement. I still remember the admiring looks that everyone gave me when I first took office – and even months later. Tobias spread his own feelings for me more than he intended. But that's not a discussion I want to have with this group of kids, so I don't say anything.

Ms. Connor speaks up for the first time since we started. "Do you remember what I said about how Ms. Prior ran the government? She could have made all the decisions herself, but she didn't. Instead, she brought lots of people in and let them all have a say in how the UCA was built. And she made sure that we always get to vote for our leaders." She looks directly at Billy. "You might not like how she came to be president, but she did not abuse the position."

Billy opens his mouth but then closes it again, nodding reluctantly the way the Candor always do when you prove them wrong. I try to suppress my triumphant grin.

"Why didn't you stay president?" a girl in mixed colors asks me.

"For a lot of reasons," I admit. "I was still very young, and I never really wanted the job in the first place. And it was a lot of work. But it needed to be done, so I told myself that I would stay only as long as I was needed, and then I would leave." I lift a shoulder. "I stuck by that."

"Do you think you'll ever be president again?" the girl asks. Her eyes move between me and Tobias. "Either of you?"

We don't even glance at each other before responding in unison. "Absolutely not." The answer makes Abigail giggle.

It's Tobias' night to read our daughter her bedtime story, so I peek in on Eli instead, watching our son's peaceful face as he sleeps. He looks so much like his father.

At moments like this, it's impossible to imagine living the life that I grew up expecting. Surrounded in gray and not allowed to carry on a meaningful conversation or even to express much emotion. Marrying someone because it was the norm, rather than something I truly wanted to do. Teaching my children to force themselves into a mold that didn't fit any of us.

I'll never be glad that the wars happened, not given the deaths they involved. But I am grateful for the outcome of them. Somehow, we turned that horror into something good – into the changes that we all desperately needed.

Whether the children in Abigail's class believe it or not, their lives are far better because of what Tobias did. And because of what I did, some part of me admits. It will probably never be easy for me to accept that credit, but when I look at my sleeping son and think of all the choices he has in his life because of my year of service, I let myself feel a little pride.

"I love you, Eli," I whisper, feeling the full depth of that emotion toward each member of my family. I can't say that I ever expected to love anyone as much as I do all of them.

I slide out of the room quietly before heading into the master bedroom, starting to get ready for bed. Tobias comes in a short time later, wearing a small, amused smile.

"Apparently, after our program today, Billy actually apologized for being a jerk."

"Whoa…." I grin at him. "What will Abigail ever have to complain about now?"

He chuckles. "There's always Eli. She realized tonight that he got into her stuff a couple of weeks ago and stole her 'most favoritest ever' toy." He shakes his head, looking like he's not sure if he should be annoyed with his son or proud of him for getting away with it for this long.

I laugh. "I hate to tell you, but I'm the one who gave it to him. Abigail hasn't touched it in years, and Eli developed a fascination with it, so I just let him have it." I lift a shoulder. "Clearly, she didn't miss it much if she didn't notice until now."

For a second, Tobias just stares at me, and then the side of his mouth quirks. "Actually, she didn't notice at all. I thought she'd given it to him, so I thanked her for being such a good big sister, and then she got all offended that he had it." His fingers find my elbow, and he gives a gentle tug, pulling me closer to him. "I guess I shouldn't have said anything."

"Mmm," I murmur as I begin running my hands slowly up his stomach and over his chest. He always feels good, but after the discussion today, his closeness seems better than ever. "That's what you get for being a Candor loudmouth," I breathe.

Another chuckle rumbles through him, and he leans his forehead against mine. "That is something I have never been accused of." He pulls back slightly, a mischievous glint in his eyes. "You, on the other hand, have a history of stealing, so I should have known you were at it again."

It takes me a long time to remember what he's talking about – back when we took blankets and supplies from Candor just after escaping from Evelyn's clutches. Before I can answer, he shakes his head again, mock sadness on his face. "You should be ashamed, you know, letting a one and a half year old take the blame for you…."

I smile as I form another circle on his chest, finding it difficult to think of a suitable response now that his fingers are trailing lightly down my spine, sending tingling sensations through my entire being.

"You're right," I eventually murmur, standing on my toes so I can kiss my way along his neck. "I should have blamed it on Uriah instead."

His laugh is deeper this time, and he touches his lips to my cheek. "That would have been much better." His tone is low. "You can never go wrong doing that."

He presses one hand to my lower back, holding me flush against his body as he claims my lips with his own. "Think Abigail is asleep yet?" he whispers when we finally pull apart for air.

"Yeah," I breathe back, letting my fingers trail lower. The movement makes him grin, and then he's lifting me abruptly, carrying me to the bed as I try not to giggle too loudly. And as his lips seal themselves to mine again, I realize something.

I've spent my life thinking that it's the big choices that define us – picking a faction, or deciding when to battle, or surrendering ourselves to save others. But now I understand that the small, repeated choices mean just as much.

Every day, I choose Tobias, and our children, and our friends. Every day, I choose our life together. And every day, they choose me. It's those choices – the ones that we make again and again even though we have a world of other options – that form us into who we are.

I wouldn't have it any other way.

A/N: Thank you again to everyone who has reviewed, favorited, and/or followed this story! Your support keeps me writing and always helps cheer me up if I'm having a bad day. Thank you also to my wonderful beta reader, Rosalie, who helped me throughout this story - and who reminded me that most first graders wouldn't have understood my original version of this chapter. :-)

Please take a moment to let me know what you thought of this second epilogue. Also, if you haven't read my other stories, please check them out. I have several posted under this account and some under my "Windchimed M-Stories" account (those are M-rated, so please only read them if you're old enough).

Wishing you all the best!

~ Windchimed