A/N: The nexus of this story really came from A.) my loathing of Allegiant, and B.) reading the epilogue and pondering how things would be different if Tris had survived David shooting her. So this story starts at the beginning of the epilogue and borrows dialogue (though I do trade some of it between characters, purposefully), and then deviates more and more until it is it's own story.

And this story is set up a little different from my others. For one thing, even though theprologue is written in Tobias' POV, the rest of the story will be 3rd person. For another thing, in the chronology of this story, this should be the epilogue since it falls after the events of the story proper. The reason I've set it up this way is... well, frankly I like telling stories like this, and just because you knows the ends, doesn't mean you can guess the means of getting there, and with this story in particular, there's some real shit Tris and Tobias have to go through some shit to get here, where things are pretty good between them (I've said on my Tumblr this is the darkest thing I've written for Fourtris and I'm not lying). Oh, and this chapter is not very smutty, but the following chapters will be (and there will be two of them - double trouble!).

The rest of this fic is mostly finished, but I'm letting them rest a bit before I go back and doing the final editing and polishing up. In the meantime you've got the next chapter of Appetence to look forward to and another Allegiant alternate-ending, the idea for which Arden's Joy sent me over a month ago and has been entirely too patient with me about. To give you a hint, the working title is "judas" :)

And of course special thanks to Wee Kraken who gave this a first look ages ago when it was drastically different and gave me the constructive criticism I needed to keep at this one.

Coming home to someone is many things. It is a literal action, an abstract idea, a physical feeling. It is more than the sound of the key turning in the door and the voice that calls from the porch. It is a choice, a promise, a declaration. It is a return, not as a person to a place, but as oneself to another. It is one individual saying to another: 'You are the one I choose'.

The roads leading outside Amity, to the place where our world meets the outside world are well worn now from the frequent coming and going of people now that Chicago is an open city. Evelyn waits at the side of the abandoned train tracks where we were met by Amar; where the illusion of our factioned world shattered like a pane of glass.

Evelyn waves when I get close enough, as if I could miss her in the swath of open space surrounding the tracks. She greets me with a kiss when she climbs into the truck, and I let her. I let the small smile it coaxes from me stay there too. "Welcome back," I offer.

It's been two years since she left the city, originally never to return, but so much has changed in Chicago that I don't see the harm in her coming back, and neither does she. That's not to say everyone is enthusiastic about it - Johanna isn't, for one -, but ultimately she let the decision rest with me. And the time away has done Evelyn good. She looks younger; her face is fuller, her smile wider.

When Evelyn left, I left with her, living up to the promise - or I guess, threat, really -, I made Tris after Shauna was shot, that if she recklessly risked her life again her and I were through. It was selfish and cruel to do, especially as she was recovering from near fatal gunshot wounds at the time, but I couldn't stay in the same city as her and live with not having her. I couldn't do it. So I ran away, like a coward.

Maybe it was cowardly of me to come back too, Evelyn thought so at the time. Then again she's always had trouble separating her relationship with Marcus from my relationship with Tris. Consequently, we did not part on the best of terms and it's been more than a year and half since I've seen her. There were other things too; we were both trying to figure out how to be a family again and we both made mistakes. We have kept in contact though, and having some physical distance between us allowed us to more comfortably bridge the emotion distance, as counterintuitive as it seems.

"Thank you for having me back. And thank you for letting me be a part of this today," she murmurs. Even though her voice is subdued I can tell how much it means to her to be home, on this of all days.

I reach out and squeeze her hand quickly, reassuring her.

"You know, today would be Choosing Day if the factions still existed," she says contemplatively, watching the farmland slip by as we drive. The crops that were once isolated to the area around Amity have spread; even in the city vacant lots have been turned into community gardens to help feed the rapidly expanding population.

"I know."

"I'm glad you'll never have to face that, with Natalie," she says slowly, like she's testing the way the name feels on her tongue. "It was… cruel, splitting families up that way."

"Every child has to strike out on their own at some point," I say noncommittally. "Luckily Tris and I don't have to worry about that for a while, considering Natalie's turning one today."

"What's she like, your daughter?"

I smile widely. "A handful, to be honest; more so everyday now that she's gotten a good grip on walking."

She laughs softly. "They always are at that age. It's one of the most amazing and terrifying things when they start exploring the world on their own, oblivious to what's safe and what isn't. Is she talking yet?"

"Still babbling, mostly, but she tries to mimic us a lot."

The fence looms up in the distance, ever present, but forever changed now that the gates hang open widely, unguarded. "What's it like, living without the Factions?" she asks as we pass through.

"Very ordinary," I say with a smile. "You'll love it."

xxxx

"My neighbor is a history expert, he came from the Fringe, and according to him this building was constructed before the Purity War," I say as I grab Evelyn's bags and lead her into the building she'll call home as long as she stays here; it's only a five minute walk from my own apartment. "He calls Chicago the 'fourth city' - because it was destroyed by a fire ages ago, and then again by the Purity War, and now we're on the fourth attempt at settlement here."

"The fourth city. I like it," Evelyn says as pass into the lobby, the phrase Peace Be With You inscribed in the marble lintel over the doors.

The building is a shadow of it's former grandeur. The fountain at the top of the main staircase sits dry and unused, and the frescos painted on the walls and ceilings are faded where they haven't completely crumbled to dust, but time could not completely diminish it's beauty, only dim it. Like Evelyn it's come alive again in the last few years.

"You're only a few blocks away from us, so anytime you want to come over," I offer, open-ended.

"I wouldn't want to intrude…" she mutters, trailing off as we reach the door of her apartment. It's on a lower floor, mercifully, since the elevators are still being repaired and I'm still not fond of small spaces, regardless.

"You won't." We can't stay distant forever, and now that we've healed as much as we can apart, it's time to bridge the final gap. "Natalie and Tris take a nap around 3 o'clock most days, but other than that, you're welcome anytime," I shrug.

"Are you sure about that?" she asks, her voice carrying the hard edge it so often does when Tris enters our conversation.

"Yes," I say firmly, setting her bags down in the small livingroom. The large window faces nothing, or at least nothing interesting, just the decaying building across the street. "You know she offered up her parents old house, but I told her you wouldn't want to live in the Abnegation sector."

Evelyn's eyes widen slightly in surprise. "You're right, I don't, but that was… very nice of her to offer," she hedges.

"Yes, it was."

"How are things between you two, if you don't mind me asking?"

"Mending. But if talking about this is just going to lead to a fight, I'd rather not," I say honestly.

"No fighting," she says holding her hands up placatingly. "Just one question and I will never bring it up again."

"Fine," I say defensively.

"Do you stay with her now because of Natalie?" Her face is mask-like, devoid of emotion as she asks.

"I stay with her because I love her. Not because there's no one else available to me, as you accused when I left you to come back here, and not because we have a child together now," I say bluntly.

"Okay," she says simply.

"Okay?" I ask incredulously because normally this would be a prelude to a fight.

She shrugs. "You love her and I just have to be okay with that."

"No, you have to respect my decision," I point out.

"I will."

Her choice of words is not lost on me because she didn't say 'I do', she said 'I will', but I suppose that's part of the process of bridging the distance between us, so for now, I accept it.

"So, George says he needs some help training a police force. You didn't offer?" Evelyn asks, changing the subject to something much safer.

"No. I told you, I'm done with guns."

"That's right, you're using your words now," she says with a wry smile. "I don't trust politicians, you know."

"You'll trust me because I'm your son," I say. "Anyway, I'm not a politician. Not yet, anyway. Just an assistant."

She walks around the apartment, her fingers dragging across the back of the couch and dancing across the counter of the tiny kitchenette. "Do you know where your father is?"

"Someone told me he left. I didn't ask where he went."

"There's nothing you wanted to say to him? Nothing at all?" she needles.

"No. I'm done living in the past."

She gives me a strange, searching look and then crosses the room and hauls one of her bags up onto the table. She pulls the blue glass statue out and extends it towards me. "I hope you're not so done with it, that you won't accept this."

I remember when she gave it to me the first time, when it was a forbidden object because it didn't do anything obvious. But for years after that it was the symbol of my defiance, and hers.

"When you were gone, this reminded me of how brave you were, always have been. I thought you might like it back. I intended it for you, after all."

I'm surprised at the upwelling of emotion the simple object can still evoke in me, so I don't say anything, not trusting my voice. Instead I smile and nod and accept her gift.

xxxx

The spring air is cold as we walk to Navy Pier, but it feels good, bracing. Like everything else in the city the pier is showing signs of change. All the same landmarks are here - the carousel, the Ferris wheel, the park -, but the grass is richly green and neatly trimmed. Before long there will probably be water lapping at the wooden pilings holding the pier up; the Bureau scientists are working hard to restore the lake and rivers of the city.

"Tris didn't need your help today?" Evelyn asks as we enter the grounds.

"There isn't much to help with, to be honest. Natalie won't even remember this so it's just family and a few close friends having a picnic and cake at the park to celebrate."

Honestly, I think we should be throwing the party for Tris, considering she was the one who had to carry and give birth to Natalie. As we cross the green a small knot of people come into view. Even from a distance I can pick out Tris, Natalie resting comfortably on her hip. But Matthew is here too, along with Caleb, Cara, Christina, and most surprisingly Zeke and Shauna. We invited them of course, but I didn't think they'd actually come.

Natalie spots of us first and lets loose an excited shriek. She squirms in Tris' arms like she's trying to launch herself out of them, but settles for toddling across the grass once Tris sets her on her feet. She's in such a hurry to get to me that she trips over her own feet and falls halfway between Tris and I, but before either of us can get to her she's already pushing herself back up, undeterred. I'm just grateful the grass is a soft place for her to land.

Still, I take a few big steps and sweep her up into my arms, surreptitiously checking her over. My pulse doesn't calm until I'm sure that the most damage done are the grass stains now embedded in her tights. "You okay, Baby?" I ask like I'll actually get an answer.

"Ba-ba!" Natalie says excitedly before dissolving into giggles.

"I'll take that as a yes." I press a kiss to her cheek, stilling there for a moment with my eyes closed to breathe her in. She smells like baby powder and strawberry shampoo. When she was born her hair was the palest blonde, but it's slightly darker now, ashy. Her eyes are just the same though; Tris' grey-blue filling up her irises, but ringed in the same deep blue as mine.

"Everything okay?" Tris murmurs as she walks up, one hand resting on Natalie's back and one resting on mine. I know she's not asking about the baby though.

"It's fine," I say, shifting Natalie from one arm to the other so I can take Tris' hand in mine. I walk us all over to where Evelyn is quietly watching us a dozen feet away.

"Hello, Evelyn," Tris says evenly.

"Beatrice," she replies, her tone as brittle as her manner. It would be rude if not for the fact that Evelyn's eyes seem to be riveted to Natalie, leaving little room for social niceties.

"Natalie," I say, giving her a very serious look to hold her attention. She knows this game well since we've been playing it for months. "Can you say 'grandma'?"

"Amma."

"Grand-ma," I say, drawing the word out for her.

"Amma!" she says louder like that will make her mimicry perfect.

I twist us around so that Natalie is looking right at Evelyn when I point to her that. "Grandma," I say again. "That's grandma."

"Amma!"

"Hi, Natalie," Evelyn says, her voice surprisingly like Tris' the first time she said those words; strained and tearful. "Can I… can I hold her?" she asks hopefully, her arms raising slightly in offering.

"She's a little fussy with new people," I warn, and sure enough she does exactly that once Evelyn tries to lift her out of my arms. "Sorry," I say apologetically, pulling her close again.

"It's fine," Evelyn says quickly, reaching out and taking Natalie's hand and bobbing it up and down, coaxing a smile out of them both.

Tris takes a deep breath, drawing herself up next to me. "I was going to take her to feed the ducks, would you like to come with us, Evelyn?"

"I would, thank you," she says formally.

Tris gives me a look as she takes Natalie, a look that reminds me of the conversation we had last night, in bed, when she promised me that she would be if not nice at least civil, if Evelyn behaved herself too.

She carefully sets Natalie on her feet, pointing her towards a flock of ducks that are pecking hopefully at the grass some distance away. "Do you want to go feed the ducks, Natalie?"

"Ucks!" she says before taking off towards them, Tris only a step behind and Evelyn following along uncertainly. I watch them closely for a time, but the most exciting thing that happens in that Tris allows Evelyn to hold the paper bag full of bread pieces we always carry when we come to the park, presumably so that Natalie will be more comfortable with her since she's the one dispensing the treats she's throwing gracelessly towards the birds.

Eventually I wander over to our friends, though my eyes keep cutting back to my mother and Tris. I make small talk with everyone, though it's stilted and desultory with Caleb. Much like Tris and my mother, he and I have never gotten along and probably never will. I still think he's a little coward for letting Tris take his place in the weapon's lab, especially since her threat to shoot him was an empty one.

I save Zeke and Shauna for last. "Hi," I say awkwardly, not quite sure what else to say to them. The last time I saw them was about a week after Natalie was born when they came with Christina to visit Tris and meet the baby.

Zeke claps me on the shoulder, and for a second it's like everything is normal between us. "I can't believe how big your girl is getting," he says. "I can't believe you even have a kid."

"Me either," I laugh, though it's really nothing to laugh about. The fact is Natalie could very easily have been the thing that drove Tris and I apart permanently. It's not that I never wanted kids; I did, in an abstract way, in a theoretical 'someday' kind of way.

But not now, and definitely not when things were as unstable between Tris and I as they were when I came back from my sojourn outside the fence. Things then weren't just bad between us, they were very nearly fatal, threatening to destroy our relationship in a way nothing else had. We had both broke promises - she promised to choose me, and I promised to be her family -, but even knowing we both made mistakes, that we still loved and chose each other despite our failings and our lies, wasn't enough to heal the rift between us.

There was hurt, and guilt, and resentment, and it had a habit of exploding between us with bitter, angry words shouted like volleys of gunfire. It was just as destructive. But we discovered that sex was easy, or at least easier than real intimacy. It could still be rough and angry, more about proving a point or winning an argument, but it could be soft and sweet like an apology too. Most times though it was just a way to be close to each other without wounding one another. It was honest and uncomplicated in a way words couldn't be at the time, though obviously it still had consequences.

When Tris found out she was pregnant she didn't tell me right away, and even when she finally did she made it clear that this baby was her choice, that she didn't have any expectations of it changing my life the way it was going to hers. She knew as well as I did that bringing a child into a relationship where the parents can be cruel and hurtful to each other as often as they're loving and sweet was far less desirable than bringing a child into a home with one parent who was at least stable.

As unprepared as I was to be a parent though, I didn't take her up on the offer. That night I laid in bed with her and we both promised to try harder because we did love and want each other. But that wasn't the only reason I was so immediately enthusiastic about Natalie. It was true that I wanted a family with Tris someday, but it was also true that I knew where Tris wouldn't stay alive for me, she would stay alive for this baby, knew she would do everything to spare this baby the grief she felt at her parents death. I wanted Natalie because it meant I could keep Tris. It was selfish, but I didn't care, not after coming so close to losing Tris so many times.

And for a while we both tried, and it was good. We still used sex as a coping mechanism, but there was talking too, healing. At least until the night Tris heard me admit to Christina that the reason I was so ready to keep the baby was because it would give Tris a reason to stay alive.

I can only imagine what my face must have looked like when she stepped out of the hallway and I realized she'd heard me, but the horror of it passed in a heartbeat to be replaced with pure anger. As soon as Christina scurried out of the line of fire we exploded.

So now you know, I spat out.

What is wrong with you? she demanded, her face flushed and hands shaking with anger.

What is wrong with me? What is wrong with you that I had to knock you up to get you to value your own life? I threw in her face.

Get out, she hissed at me, clearly wounded.

For the first time in a long time I scared her. She jerked away when the glass that was in my hand shattered violently in the sink. It made something flicker in the eyes I recognized from my mother's and it almost broke me.

What is wrong with me that I'm never enough? I asked instead, hands gripped so hard at the edge of the counter my knuckles were white. It was probably the most honest thing I've ever said in my life. And the most painful.

It's hard to think about it now, the doubt and distrust I put in Tris' eyes that night, but especially the fear. For a long time after that she was wary around me, and rightfully so, I guess. It didn't really disappear until after Natalie was born, once she was a real person to me, someone who I loved on sight and not just as a means to an end.

"I've got something to show you, actually," Shauna says, pulling me out of my thoughts. She tosses the blanket resting across her legs aside to reveal a scaffolded network of metal rods that brace up her legs to her hips. She smiles and, with a gear-grinding sound, stands.

"Well look at that," I say, smiling. "I'd forgotten how tall you are."

"Caleb and his lab buddies made them for me. Still getting the hang of it, but I might be able to give your toddler a run for her money one day," she teases.

"I'll hold you to that."

"Are you guys ready to eat?" Tris asks, reappearing at my side. Since she doesn't look like she's going to scream or break something I assume that feeding the ducks went peacefully.

We spread out on sheets and blankets, passing stacks of paper plates and plastic utensils between before piling them up with cold fried chicken and a few side dishes though the birthday girl mostly gets macaroni and cheese, and some apple slices. She doesn't mind. And she's delighted when we sing her 'happy birthday', though she tries to grab at the single candle flickering on top of her cake.

Once we finish eating Caleb and Cara cajole Shauna to her feet so they can observe how her braces work 'in the field', and since there's no possible way Natalie is going down for the nap she's due for with all the excitement around her and all the sugar she's just consumed, Tris sets her loose to romp around the park.

With Evelyn safely engrossed in the conversation she's having with Matthew and Christina, I move to sit down next to Zeke. "Thanks for coming today," I say quietly. "I know it's still hard for you."

"It's not about you. Uri would have wanted me to come," he says just as quietly. "He loved Tris like a sister."

I can't deny that the words sting, but if Tris has taught me anything it's that the time it takes to heal is incalculable. "Either way, I'm glad you're here," I offer.

"How's Tris?" he asks after a few minutes silence.

"Better since Natalie. She still has nightmares sometimes, wakes up in a panic thinking she's back in the weapons lab, but I don't know… life damages us, and we can't escape that, but we mend each other too, you know? And Natalie mends her in a way I never could," I say nodding towards where Tris is chasing after our daughter, her eyes bright and awake and burning with a will to live.

"Hm," is all he says, noncommittal.

We lapse into silence again until Tris and Natalie and Shauna come back, faces flushed and hair tangled from the wind that's picking up.

"We should get her home before her good mood runs out," Tris says breathlessly. And it's true that at this point, Natalie is a ticking time bomb primed for an exhaustion induced temper tantrum.

"Yeah, okay," I say, pushing myself to my feet.

It only takes us a few minutes to collect our belongings and we walk together in a loose group to the train station, exchanging hugs and handshakes as we say goodbye. Evelyn hovers in the background. Once they're gone I find myself between Tris and my mother as we walk home. It's probably the safest thing for all of us. I invite her up because it's only late afternoon, but she declines, citing her long trip and busy day. I don't miss Tris' sigh of relief, but I don't comment on it either.

Even though we're on the lower floors and don't have the panoramic views an apartment higher up in the building would afford us, it's still nice. The sunset it painted on the apartment walls when we walk in, the marshy river outside showing a thread of reflected gold; like so many other things it will take time to restore it completely.

More than any other place this feels like home to me. When I moved in all I had was a couch, a table, and a bed. It took Tris getting pregnant for me to invest in anything more than the bare essentials. Even then, it wasn't quite home. Now there are shelves full of pictures and books and knick-knacks. There's always a basket of clean laundry next to couch waited to be folded and Tris is forever shaking her head at the mess of files on my desk. There's a few toys sitting on the coffee table and a few dirty dishes in the sink. It feels lived in, comfortable, loved. It feels like home, and I know, deep down, that without Tris and Natalie it would never feel this way.

"I know it's early, but I think I'm going to give her a bath and put her in her PJ's," Tris says, lifting Natalie out of my arms.

"Probably a good idea," I say to her before turning my attention to Natalie. "You're probably going to pass right out once we put you in bed, aren't you?" I ask, pecking a kiss to her forehead where she's sleepily resting against Tris' shoulder.

They disappear down the hallway that leads to the bedrooms and bathroom and I pick up a report I've got to read about GD rebels in the Fringe. There are still people there who believe another war is the only way to get the change we want. I would rather avoid more violence; I've had enough of that to last a lifetime, and like Tris I still bear the scars of it. There are times when I'm playing with Natalie or tucking her into bed and I remember that my hands are the hands that executed Eric. I'm still haunted by nightmares of Abnegation bodies sprawled across the streets of my old home, and tortured by the guilt that I knew what Dauntless and Erudite were planning and did nothing to stop it.

Today though, I ignore those things as best as I can because this is Natalie's day and I live in a different world now; a world where our daughter will never know what it's like to be selfless, or brave, or smart, or kind, or honest, one excluding the other. For a long time I regretted the faction symbols on my back, but I finally realized that what I regretted was the lie of the Factions, the divisiveness of them. Natalie will not grow up in a world shaped by them. To her Abnegation and Dauntless and the rest of them will just be funny words and a boring history lesson. What I don't regret though are the virtues of the Factions because we should all strive to be selfless, and brave, and smart, and kind, and honest. We just shouldn't lose our humanity in them. It's a balance, one Tris and I still struggle to keep sometimes, but we're trying, for Natalie and for us.

A half hour later I'm stretched out on the couch still reading the same report when Natalie trudges out to the living room, not at all tempted by the bottle Tris fixes for her and instead climbing right up on the couch and stretching out on my chest. As simple as it is, it reminds me that as much as this feels like a home to me because of Tris and Natalie, it feels the same way to them because of my presence, and knowing that… there aren't words to describe the way it makes me feel.

I curl my free arm around her, pulling her closer. "Happy birthday, Nat," I whisper, kissing her damp hair. She curls her fingers more tightly into the fabric of my shirt and nuzzles her face against my neck.

The rest of the night unfolds as it more or less usually does. Natalie wakes up a few hours later, but only keeps her eyes open long enough to suck down a bottle. She's already asleep as Tris and I put her to bed. She's still sleeping in a crib, but that will change all too soon. We both lean awkwardly over the side and kiss her goodnight, tell her we love her.

"Do you regret coming back?" Tris asks quietly as we take a moment to watch Natalie.

"No, I don't," I say softly, wrapping my arms around her and pulling her back so she's flush with my chest.

"If we didn't have Natalie would you?" she presses.

"No. Where is this coming from?" I ask her sharply. "Did Evelyn-"

"No. It's just with her being back, I thought maybe…" Tris trails off.

"I don't. I could have stayed away, but I never would have been happy with my life like this without you in it," I admit. "But speaking of Natalie… I got you something," I say, fishing in my pocket for the small velvet covered box.

"I don't see what one has to do with the other."

"It's a special day for you too," I say, holding onto the box with one hand and flipping the top open to reveal it's contents with another. In the dim glow from Natalie's nightlight the ring looks even more faded than it should, but Tris still inhales a sharp breath in surprise. "It's old," I say apologetically. "But I wanted to get you something with Natalie's birthstone." It's a simple ring, with tarnished gold and a small, dull emerald, but it's unlike any Faction-inspired jewelry.

"It's beautiful," she whispers. "Thank you."

It takes us a minute to find a finger it fits on - which ends up being her index finger -, but once we do she turns in my arms and kisses me full on the mouth. "I feel bad that I didn't think to get you anything," she says sheepishly.

"You're alive, we have a beautiful daughter, that's enough."

"Still though," she frowns.

"Hey, I wasn't the one who had to endure twenty-two hours of labor," I remind her.

"Well, when you put it that way," she says with a wry smile.

"When I put it that way, I don't think an old ring I found in a junk-store is enough," I quip.

"It's perfect," Tris reassures me before pressing her lips to mine again. This time though she doesn't pull away, and neither do I. The kiss builds in heat and intensity, reminding me that despite the fact that we're parents we're still young and love, that we still crave each other.

I reach down and wrap my arms around Tris, hoisting her up into my arms the same way I did nearly two years ago when I appeared at the apartment she was sharing with Christina one night, jealous, angry, and hurt, but still so much in love with her.

I miss you, I said with that first tentative kiss there on the threshold.

I want you, I said when we stumbled down the hallway to her bedroom, locked in the same embrace we are now.

I need you, I said when our bodies were joined together, though I wasn't ready to accept it myself.

We work in tandem to join our bodies together. I want to tell her that she feels like heaven and hell and death and life, love and hate. I want to tell her that she feels perfect. That she's mine and I'm hers and it doesn't matter how many times we fight or lie or disappoint each other, nothing will ever change that. But now is not the time for words, not spoken ones at least, because the body has its own language; one that renders words hollow, and I speak in it until we're both left sticky and sated, bound together in a mess of limbs and tangled sheets and devotion.

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