TOBIAS

I stare at the pile of files on the desk and sigh, drumming my fingers briefly against the edge of my chair, agitated. I am not used to so much paperwork. Endless paperwork. But Johanna Reyes and I are still catching up, navigating the ins and outs of politics in the larger government we now find ourselves a part of. It's a lot of work. Normally, I'm glad for the distraction.

Today I push myself away from the desk and walk to the window behind me. I take a deep breath as I step closer to the glass and let my eyes scan the skyline.

It's lighter in this office than the one I used to work in. The control room in Dauntless headquarters. Dark and dank. I could sink into it. Hide when I wanted to. There are windows all over this building, and the light exposes everything. The air feels thin, even though we are inside, and I begin to feel shaky. So I quickly move back, just a step or two. The queasiness eases. Some things haven't changed, and probably won't, I smile wryly.

Still, I stand up straight, and tall. Determined to face the things that have changed. I will be brave. Iam brave. Then I wince as my shirt grazes my chest, and I remember to roll my shoulders forward slightly. Breathing room. The fabric shouldn't be brushing the raw skin too much. I close my eyes, tight.

I got another tattoo yesterday. The day we scattered her ashes. Zeke wasn't so sure when I told him what I wanted after I'd hit the ground and finally caught my breath. But to his credit, he sat with me anyway, cracking jokes and smiling and making every possible attempt to lift my somber mood as I stared at the needle boring black ink into my flesh.

It's the last one I intend to get. So I wanted to make sure it was perfect. And, I admit to myself, I didn't want to miss a moment of the pain, as much as I understood and appreciated Zeke's efforts to distract me.

Maybe he's right. Maybe it wasn't the best idea to carve her into me permanently, when I should really be letting her go by now. But I don't care. She is a part of me.

My eyes drift to the Hancock building, unwittingly searching for evidence of her long-scattered by the wind. I lift my eyes to the clouds and then turn back to my desk, brushing my fingers over the spot. Seeing but not seeing what is marked there forever. A bird. Just like the ones that flew over her delicate collarbone. A bird, just like her. Never far from my heart, but flying free.

I hope that she is. I hope that she is.