A/N: So I finally wrote a little bit of Three Parts Dead from Tobias' POV. As far as continuity it falls after chapter 16 and before chapter 17. I'm going to say right off the bat it contains a big fat spoiler for Ch. 17. Hopefully once you read it Tobias' behavior when it comes to that topic over the last few chapter will make a little more sense. Enjoy :)

Being Divergent should come with better perks. I should be able to manipulate reality as easily as I can manipulate a simulation. Unfortunately trying to will the people gathered in Tris and I's apartment out for the last half hour has made no difference. They are all still crowded around the huge map spread across our kitchen table bickering with each other.

Being around them means having to perform. It means pretending to care about what they have to say and my tolerance for people has always been low at the best of times. And right now, more than anything I want to scream at Shauna, but I can't because I'm a faction leader and that's not how I'm supposed to behave. And I hate it.

"Can we please just stick to what we know," I snap, annoyed at the prospect of having to listen to Shauna harp on about her paranoid assumptions about what's outside the fence for the fourth time in as many hours. It doesn't matter to her that every time she's brought it up she's been shouted down by everyone in the room except for Zeke, and that's probably just because he has to go home with her.

"Well considering we don't really know what's outside Amity, Four, I think it's perfectly reasonable to talk about it," she snaps back.

I close my eyes and take a deep breath, pinching the bridge of my nose and willing myself to calm. It's not much more effective than willing everyone out of our home was. I could argue with her yet again that what they taught us in school has all the hallmarks of convenient lies to keep us frightened and inside the the fence, but it would be as pointless this time around as it was the last three times.

"You know, we can make machines that sample the air and water to make sure it's harmless," Cara says, her voice distant as though she's deep in thought. "And they could be quite small; about the size of a wristwatch so they would be easy to carry."

"And what good will that do them if they're up to their knees in radioactive waste?" Shauna retorts. She's not any happier with the Erudite in the room than she is with me.

Cara rolls her eyes. "Well for one thing, if we calibrate the machines right they would never get anywhere near dangerous levels of the stuff. Otherwise I guess we'll just make sure they have iodine pills and gas masks." The condescension in her voice makes me smirk. It shouldn't, but it does. "We know it's going to be dangerous Shauna, that's why it's volunteers only."

"Unless you're me, in which case it doesn't matter," Uriah grumps from one corner of the kitchen. Despite the fact he's been lobbying hard to be allowed to go outside the fence everyone thinks it's a bad idea.

"You can always come help me, Uriah," Cara says with teasing sweetness. "I need guinea pigs to see if I can successfully remove the long lasting Erudite transmitters."

"Now why would I let you do that? That's the only thing I've got going for me," he teases back. It's true in a way. If every group going outside the fence has at least one person tagged with one of the transmitters we can - in theory - monitor their progress. Of course the fact that we've got dozens of people to choose from somewhat diminishes the likelihood that Uriah would be needed for that alone.

"Cara, add those gadgets to the list of things we'll send with our groups," Tori says, trying to get the meeting back on track.

"How many do you want?"

"Two for each group, that way if one fails they'll have a backup," Harrison says, always the calm voice of reason.

"They won't fail," Cara mutters, probably offended at the very idea that something she makes could fail.

"Just being cautious," Harrison says politely, trying to smooth things over.

"Fantastic. Now that that's settled we need teams to go scout the fence," I say before Shauna can start arguing again.

"Am I allowed to do that?" Uriah asks, his voice terse and petulant.

I turn and glare at him. "Maybe if you stop acting like a fucking child, yeah." He glares back for a moment and then drops his gaze. I turn back to the group, addressing them. "Tris and I will take the south, I know a good spot there, I think."

I expect Tori and Harrison to object to my going, considering my leadership status. It's not as dangerous as going outside the fence, but the city still has it's risks; groups of Erudite and Factionless outside our control possibly, as well as sinkholes and fallen buildings and whatever mother nature can throw at us. They exchange a look, but neither of them say anything so I press on.

"When we came back from Amity we crossed the fence here," I say, pointing at the spot on the map. "There's no cover though, the buildings have rotted down to the foundations. But farther to the east I saw a cluster of buildings; whoever goes should check those out."

We quickly decide on half a dozen people, including Uriah, to carry out the necessary reconnaissance. Cara's excited because we'll get to test some her wares in the real world. I have a feeling she expects full and thorough reviews of the prototypes she's sending with us when we get back.

I feel exhaustion creeping in as Tris and Christina hand out thick manila folders full of papers. It's getting close to midnight, and this meeting won't be wrapping up anytime soon. The two of them launch into their spiel about the training program for those going outside the fence, making notes and answering questions as they go along. They've been working hard on it for a week, and that in combination with with everything else we have going on means Tris and I haven't had any time to ourselves. It's been a rare night when we get to bed before the wee hours of the morning, and when we do we're both asleep within minutes. It's part of the reason I volunteered us to check the fence.

It's one o'clock in the morning by the time they finish and if I had any illusions about people leaving once they were done talking it's wiped away immediately. Sure they're all moving towards the door, but their pace is glacial. Zeke helps me clean up, collecting all the dirty dishes while I wash them as Tris tries to politely herd people out the door.

"Surprised you didn't volunteer to go with Uriah," I mutter as he stands next to me, towel in hand to dry as I wash.

"Shauna would shit if I did."

"Why?"

"We decided on no more dangerous shit while we're trying to have a kid," he says like it's the most obvious thing in the world, and I suppose it is.

I keep my eyes on the sink full of soapy water and dirty dishes, trying to hide the disapproval and disappointment that must show on my face at the notion. It's not that I think kids are a bad idea, it's just a bad idea now, in the world we're living in. I can't imagine bringing a new life into this chaos. Apparently my efforts aren't enough.

"What's that look for?"

"Nothing," I shake my head. "It's just... you two are really doing this?"

"Yeah, we are." He tries to contain his smile, and fails utterly. "It'll be good, and we all need a little good right now."

Up until now I thought this baby was about Shauna desperately trying to replace what she lost when Lynn died, and maybe for her it is, but for Zeke it's about hope; hope of a better future, a better world than the one we live in. And I can at least understand that, even if I still think a baby is terrible idea.

Shauna wheels herself into the kitchen, depositing a few empty beer bottles on the counter and giving me the stink eye. Guess she's still feeling pissy. "You ready to go?" Zeke dries one last glass and claps me on the back in farewell.

Tris turns around, a look of relief on her face, once she locks the door behind them. She shuffles toward the bedroom and I follow after her, turning off lights as I go. Once she toes off her shoes I grab her arm and turn her around to face me. Everything about her reads exhaustion.

I cradle her face in my hands, thumbs sweeping under her eyes like I can erase the dark circles there. "I'm sorry," I murmur against her lips. I don't even know what I'm apologizing for, really. Whether it's for keeping her awake last night with my nightmares or our friends laying siege to our home.

"It's fine," she says, pulling away and running her fingers through her hair. Her lips tilt up in a wane smile as she fingers at the hem of my shirt. I pull it off, giving it to her so she has something to sleep in. A minute later she's tucking the blue quilt around us and settling in my arms.

It's so routine now, laying down on my back so she can tuck herself against my side, her head on my shoulder and an arm and a leg draped across me. After everything she's still the only person I want, the only one I don't have to put on a performance for, but I hope I never take this for granted. I still don't think the Abnegation are wrong to value touch, but treating it like it's something taboo strips us of a part of our humanity. There's something inexpressibly comforting about this, something that can't be replicated with words.

I close my eyes and rub my hand up and down her back. She hums sleepily, contentedly. Even though I know I should be sleeping on the couch, and there's a part of me that's irritated at her unwillingness to let me, there's a bigger part that swells at the thought of it, that even when it's costing her something she still stubbornly won't let Marcus come between us.

Her breathing evens out, deepens as she falls asleep, her body warm and heavy against mine in a way it isn't when she's awake. It feels protective and possessive in it's way, and I like that too. Before she literally fell into my life this was something I thought I didn't want. But I know now it was because it was something I thought I would never get, never deserve to have. Sometimes the worst wounds aren't the ones that bleed.

I wait for sleep to come but I know it's futile. My thoughts are too scattered, my body thrumming with nervous energy despite how tired I am. I can't even keep my eyes closed, and after a while I give up trying. The world outside our window is rendered in silver and black, the moon illuminating it as the sun would during the day. Forcing my eyes to remain there is about as futile as trying to keep them closed in the first place. Finally I give up and let them drift to the dresser, to the bottom drawer that has a ring hidden in the back of it and let my thoughts tendril out.

I bought it after I was thrown from the train; the first day I could actually make it down to the Pit that's what I did. It has been hidden there ever since, waiting for the right time. At first I thought I was just waiting to give it to her until I could trust her to stay alive. And not that I don't have that fear, but not giving her that ring... it was never about that. It was about me, about my inability to trust anyone, even Tris.

And that was only reinforced by her telling me that if I had asked her to marry me she would have said no, that she couldn't trust me because sometimes I felt like a stranger to her even though she loved me. That was been a bitter pill to swallow, one that made silence so much more appealing than it was before that conversation.

But that isn't who I want to be. I don't want to be the person who turned on her in Jeanine's lab; don't want to be the person who doesn't trust her enough to tell her what is going on in my head, or what I am feeling. I don't want that kind of relationship with her any more than she wants it with me.

So I changed, or am trying to anyway. Because she was - is - my choice, has been my choice since I decided to stay in Dauntless. Maybe I wasn't thinking about marriage then, but when I told her I would be her family, I meant it, ring or not. It is just hard to pluck up the courage to have the conversations we need to have with the echo of her no still ringing in my ears.

Now those conversations have piled up. Conversations about what's going on outside the fence, inside the fence, between us. But Zeke was right that day we went to Erudite when he said there is no right time. And I'm done watching my life pass me by while I wait for things to be perfect. 'Perfect' is unattainable anyway, and waiting for it is an act of cowardice. Even if she says no I want her to know that, at least for me, marriage is where this is going; I want her to know that no matter what the future holds we're in this together, that I'm not going to let anything come between us again either.

I close my eyes again, pull Tris even closer and try to lose myself in her, in her scent and warmth curling around me. The next time we sleep in this bed she might have a ring on her finger. I try to focus on that outcome and not the alternative.