What Is Left

TRIS

They say that I was a Dauntless/Abnegation transfer before the attack, but it feels wrong and not quite real. I am Beatrice...they have told me this a thousand times but the name feels like some other girl's. It is not quite mine when I utter it. I have been on my own for the last two weeks, my training is complete. My home is small but enough for a selfless existence. The utilitarian house and the drab grey clothing and the strict rules and social constraints scratch against skin like the wool material of the blankets I am distributing to the factionless.

Caleb, my brother, was not affected like I was affected but he assures me, when he visits, that this was my choice and I almost believe him. Except, there are times when he is here in this plain house with its cement walls that I can see him clearly in my mind's eye wearing loose fitting grey instead of Erudite blue.

My heart tells me to trust him after all he is my brother but my mind says differently; it reminds me of the way Caleb looks sometimes as if caught in a memory and the frightened gleam in his eyes that tells me he is afraid of me. I do not trust him and it makes my heart ache because I am alone here.

Actions that are familiar are also foreign to me...Like while chopping vegetables I deftly flip the knife end over end weighing it, testing it's weight. This would not be a good knife to throw. Or when the train passes and I just watch it go and my body screams to run after it and launch my self through the air and into its dark belly. I walk through the factionless sector but in my mind I run following a man with close cropped hair and the edges of a tattoo that peek from beneath his sweat-soaked black t-shirt. In my dreams that boy is mine and I am his. In my dreams I stroke a hand along the artwork etched in ink upon his skin and feel his breath hitch and know that I am the only one to touch him like this.

I hand the last blanket out to a factionless boy just a little older than I am and his eyes study me intensely. At first, he seems to struggle with speech but he finds his voice when I start to turn away, "Tris?"

And that feels right...It feels like me.

His hair is longer, curling at the ends but the black marks licking along his neck like Dauntless flames are familiar and I know...I know that he is mine.

AN: This is a One-shot that may or may not become more once I finish Deviation. The plot-bunny was pretty insistent that I get this off my chest before I do the next chapter of Deviation and I always listen to the plot-bunnies...They are scary!