Note: I changed a few things just for the sake of the fic, so everything is not completely accurate! Especially the fact that it ends happily.

All I can think is her.

I want to apologize for not trusting her, I want to tell her how much I love her, I want to tell her about reconciling with Evelyn. I want to tell her that everything is back to normal, that we can have the quiet, uneventful relationship we would have had if we had stayed in Abnegation. The one I know we're both craving after weeks and weeks of war and death and violence.

"Tobias!" Christina says, relieved, when I enter the compound again. It is chaos inside; there are papers everywhere, people lying, bleeding, on the floor, running around, shouting for medical assistance. My stomach falls. Tris.

"Is she okay?" I ask first. Christina hesitates, and I feel lightheaded.

"No," I say. "No, no, Christina, please tell me she's not-"

"We don't know," she says finally, firmly holding my gaze. "We're trying to stabilize her."

I can't see straight. Such a similar thing had been said when Uriah had nearly died; there was so much unsurety, and now he is dead. I want to punch something. I need to punch something.

"Tobias," Christina says, resting a hand on my arm. I think it's meant to be comforting, but I feel numb. "We only just found her a few minutes ago."

"What do you mean found her? Did you lose her?" I snap. I shouldn't be so angry with Christina, but I can't help it.

"She . . . she decided to carry out the plan instead of Caleb, since she knew she would be resistant to the death serum."

"Was she?"

"Yes," Christina says, and I feel the smallest sense of relief. "But David shot her. She bled a lot before we could get to her."

"Is David dead?" If not, he will be soon.

"Yes," Christina says. "He shot himself after he thought he killed Tris."

"Who found her?"

"Caleb."

I can't believe this. I should have been there, not that traitor. Did he think saving his sister's life would redeem himself? It won't.

"Where is she?" I demand, and Christina just beckons for me to follow her. She leads me down a now-familiar hallway towards the medical wing. Tris, my Tris, looks so out of place here. They've put her in her own private room, and it's cramped, but she's lying on a stiff white cot, bandages wrapped thickly around her thigh. That must have been where she was shot.

My chest clenches at the thought. Tris was shot. And I wasn't there for her. She was so brave, and she might die not knowing exactly how I felt-that was a selfish thought, to relate myself to her potential death, but then again, I am no longer Abnegation.

I am no longer anything. I am Tobias Johnson, factionless. No, not even factionless-there are no more factions to be distanced from. We are going to live normally, peacefully.

If only Tris would wake up.

I glance up towards the door; Christina is no longer lingering there.

Hesitantly, I lower myself onto the edge of Tris's bed. She looks paler than usual, and as if she's sleeping peacefully. Maybe she wants to die, I think. Maybe she wants to be with her parents, and Will, and Uriah. Maybe she wants to escape all this death and destruction. I don't blame her.

But I can't bear the thought of her not waking up knowing that it's over. That she succeeded in wiping everyone's memories, as Christina told me on the way to the room, and we're going back to Chicago to live peaceful, faction-free lives.

I can't bear the thought of losing her.

Suddenly, so vaguely I wonder if I'm imagining it, her eyelids flutter. Her left hand twitches.

"Tris," I breathe, waiting, agonizing over the fact that she isn't moving anymore. What if that was it? What if those were her last movements? Not the shooting of a gun, or the throwing of a knife, but a simple twitch of the hand? There were always qualities in her that could never be Dauntless.

Then she opens her eyes, and everything is all right.

"Tris!" I can't help it. I want to throw my arms around her, pull her so close that she can't breathe, hold her for as long as she'll let me. But she's clearly in no position for that.

"Tobias?" She grimaces first, probably from the pain, but a grin slowly melts over her face. "Tobias," she says again, as if realizing I'm really there, not some serum-induced illusion.

"I'm here," I tell her. "I'm never leaving you again."

She rolls her eyes. "Despite what my current bullet wound may suggest, I can handle myself."

"No, no." I shake my head. "I know you can. It's not that. You know I trust you; you know I think you're braver than I could ever hope to be. I just . . . I hate that I wasn't there."

"Neither was anyone else," she said. "And, honestly, Tobias, I don't know if I would like you to see David shooting me."

"I could have helped you-"

"You could have been killed," she interrupts, her big blue eyes boring into mine. They shine with a new kind of intensity now, less hungry for adventure, more mature and determined. "But you weren't, and neither was I. Remember what you told me? 'Nothing else is all right, but we are?'"

I find myself grinning at the memory. "Of course."

"It's true. Except now everything is all right. Isn't it?" She looks hopeful. "Did you administer the memory serum to your parents? Did it work here?"

"It worked," I say. "Except I didn't give my parents the serum."

I explain before she can question me any further. "Evelyn agreed to demolish the faction system."

"And Marcus . . . ?"

"Also agreed." I pause. "Under the force of Evelyn, of course."

Tris grins. Her eyelids are fluttering again, like she's having trouble staying awake.

"They must have given me something," she says. "Really strong painkillers. I . . . I can't . . ."

"It's okay," I say, bending down to kiss her forehead. Then I move to her lips. They are softer than I remembered; which seems odd to me, because I feel as if I know Tris better than myself. She kisses me back much more strongly than she looks at the moment, reminding me just how resilient she is. If she were to enter her fear landscape now, I'd bet there might not even be any more fears to overcome.

"Tobias?" She says quietly, clearly drifting off. "I love you."

I tell her I love her, more than anything, but she is already asleep.

"Nat, slow down!"

She doesn't.

Not that I really expected her to. Even at four years old, Natalie seems to be a shadow of her mother, rebellious and a little reckless, but not heartless.

"Slow down Nat!" Her little brother calls, as if she'll listen to him. Will is three now, and like Nat, has dark, dark hair. He has Tris's eyes, though. Nat ended up with mine.

"See that?" Tris scoops up our son off the rubble-strewn ground, pointing up ahead.

"That's crazy!" The three-year-old exclaims.

Tris grins at me. We're taking them to the ferris wheel at the pier. Not to ride, obviously, but Natalie had seen it once on a school field trip and was curious. So we decided to show them.

I haven't been back here since we played capture the flag in Dauntless initiation, and I'm overwhelmed with how much things have changed since then. There is no more Dauntless initiation; there is no more Dauntless. Only a peaceful city in which its residents coexist without much conflict. It's more than either of us could have imagined for our future, just like Nat and Will. Just like Tris is, for me.

"Daddy, look!" Nat says excitedly, finally pausing in running to take a few breaths. "It's the ferris wheel!"

"I see!" It's fun to watch her get excited about things that have become familiar and monotonous for Tris and I. Pretty much everything excites Nat, especially when we took her to the old Dauntless compound. Tris and I lived in an apartment there until she got pregnant, a year after our wedding, and then decided to move into a nice house in the old Abnegation sector of the city. It's just starting to feel normal to get up in the morning and combine gray pants with a black or blue shirt.

We approach the ferris wheel. It's rusty and clearly hasn't been used since our last visit here, but it brings memories back. Good ones, which I try to let overshadow the bad ones.

Tris lets Will down, and he runs off with his sister, trying to climb the ladder. Nat tries to demonstrate how to do it, even though she obviously has no clue, making Tris and I laugh.

She leans into me, and I throw my arm around her. It feels good to have her next to me, knowing that I won't ever come close to losing her again.

"Can I climb it?" Nat pleads.

"Not yet," I tell her. "Mommy did once, though. All the way to the top."

Nat regards Tris with widened, revering eyes. "Mommy was brave," she says.

"She still is," I say, and Tris rolls her eyes, but she's grinning. And as she leans in to kiss me, with our children groaning and shouting "ew!" in the background, I am eternally grateful that this is the life I have chosen.