'Tis but the truth in a masquerade | Divergent | Tris/Four | PG13

[poptartmuse]

Title: 'Tis but the truth in a masquerade
Fandom: Divergent
Pairing: Tris/Four
Rating: PG-13
Spoilers: For all of Divergent.
Summary: A five things fic: four AUs that describe what life could have been like if Tris and Four had chosen differently, and one description of what reality holds for them now.
A/N: *flails* Hope you guys enjoy! Title is part of a quote by Alexander Pope.

i. “It is not enough to have a good mind; the main thing is to use it well.” - Renee Descartes              erudite

The first part of Erudite initiation is the testing phase. Every day, the pledges take three to four tests, in areas that range from calculus to literature to history and beyond. Some were essay exams, but most were bubble sheet tests. Bea had long ago perfected the art of filling in the perfect bubble sheet. There were no mistakes on her exams: not even in the way she filled her name into the scantron. The same could not be said for some of the other initiates. One girl had been physically dragged from the room after spelling the word petrichor with an extra e at the end. No one even looked up from their answer sheets to acknowledge her exit-the girl would now be factionless… something Bea planned to avoid.

Not that testing didn’t have its upsides. For one, Bea was with her brother, Caleb, who remained, as always, the eye of the storm-calm, easy-going, but always sharp enough to throw an insult so sly you’d think it was a compliment until he walked away with a smirk playing on his lips. Then there was her instructor, Tobias, another Abnegation transfer from a few years back: brilliant in all the ways she aspired to be and snarky in all the ways she found amusing. His body, muscled and lean, was just a perk. A really, really nice perk. She allows herself a long look up Tobias’s form, raking her gaze up his legs and abdomen until she meets his eyes, which smolder right back at her behind dark-rimmed glasses Bea knows he doesn’t use except in viewing far away objects.

She sits in the back for a variety of reasons, but this one is the most enjoyable. Their little secret.

Hormones, she sighs to herself dreamily. Dopamine. Seratonin. Rushing from neuron to neuron, exploding from vesicles and filling the synapse.

A small voice in the back of her head tells her that whatever it is, it feels good.

She’s been done with her exam for three minutes and four seconds now, though she generally takes a good five minutes at the end of each test to evaluate her competitors (and yes, perhaps to stare at her instructor). Caleb sits in front of her, his dark hair slightly messy, in that I’m-so-unconcerned-with-my-appearance-that-I-remain-ruggedly-handsome way. Bea is certain that two of the girls in their pledge class have approached him for carnal acts, but Caleb is well above striving for sex with some idiotic hormone-crazed teen… Bea gulps and begins to reassess her own urges. Additionally, if there is any area of knowledge that Bea wishes to stay unaware of, it is that of her brother’s sexual activity.

She’s finished and tired of waiting for Caleb, so Bea stands up from her chair and walks to the worn desk at the front of the room where Tobias sits, musing silently. Bea slides her bubble sheet on the desk, letting her finger-tips graze her instructor’s knuckles. He smirks.

“First again?” he sighs, withdrawing his hand into his lap. He gives her a warning look that says, Not here, imbecile. Bea nods imperceptibly.

“It’s almost too easy,” she laughs quietly. A seat rattles behind her, and she knows that Caleb has finished his test as well. The two always completed their examinations nearly simultaneously. Sure enough, Caleb is right behind her, delicately placing his answer sheet atop her own.

“Until tomorrow, then. Off with you, Priors,” Tobias grins, but Bea knows better-knows that she’ll be waiting at his door tonight during the second half of Free Study, knows that he’ll let her inside his room. Bea simply smiles and walks away, Caleb in tow. He raises an eyebrow at her and she tilts her head to the side in response.

Caleb has always been extraordinarily perceptive.

“Careful there, Bea,” he mutters when they arrive in their usual library carrels.

“Always am,” Bea says off-handedly, but the warning from her brother is clear.

“Tell me the truth,” he asks, his mouth hovering above her own. They're in his bed now, a pencil holder knocked off Tobias's bed from their... endeavors. “Are you here because you want me, or because you want a leg up in the initiation process?”

“I’m no Candor, Tobias,” Bea smiles, pressing her lips against his flutteringly. “Emotional honesty isn’t worth my time, generally.”

“Bea,” he breathes. Bea tilts her head to the side, assessing the situation. Tobias takes her head in his hands. “Stop evaluating me,” he laughs. “Just tell me what you think.”

Another test, Bea thinks. A test in disguise.

“Of course I want you,” Bea sighs, pulling at the bottom of his shirt to reveal his tanned skin beneath its hem. She looks away from him, and he exhales in relief.

“Good,” Tobias grins.

Passed with flying colors, Bea muses. Her heart does skip a beat when Tobias trails his fingers around the small of her back, painting the Erudite symbol-the great Eye-over and over again, so that it’s nearly tattooed there in her flesh. Perhaps admitting that he does have this bizarre power over her body would force her into an area she was highly uncomfortable with: the unknown.

“Why are you here?” he asks her lazily, after lying down in his bed for some time.

Bea takes a breath. “You want the truth?”

Tobias nods.

“I love my family, Tobias. I love my parents, though I’m sure they have their own misgivings about me, now.” Bea pauses. “I love Caleb, because he’s funny, and the smartest person I know, and absolutely has my back, no matter what. But I’ve never felt anything like how I feel around you, Tobias.” Bea leans up on her elbows, an inner quiet settling around the two of them. “I don’t like not knowing.”

“Do I look like an answer key?” Tobias laughs, turning to lie on his back. Bea takes the initiative and climbs above him.

“No,” Bea smiles, pressing a kiss to Tobias’s sternum. “Anyway, looking at the answers straightaway is cheating.”

“Cheating?” he grins.

She raises a leg over his lap to straddle him in a calculated and yet rather rewarding move. Tobias lets out a strange groan and Bea thinks she likes it. Needless to say, Tobias’s grin has faded into an expression of lust.

“I don’t cheat,” she murmurs, lowering her chest to his. She feels herself shake with attraction. He wraps his arms around her, fingers gliding up and down her back, closer and closer to the clasp of her bra.

“Good to know,” he mutters, capturing her lips in an open mouthed kiss that, no matter how hard Beatrice might try, could never be described or catalogued or labeled. It just was, and that was enough.

ii. “The truth is rarely pure and never simple.” - Oscar Wilde              candor

Beatrice taps her fingers against the table, all wired up and ready to go. This is her seventh lie detector test of the week.

Four enters the room without introduction-he needs none. The man who only told four lies… well, his reputation precedes him. He has been administering the tests for weeks now. Beatrice raises her eyebrows.

“Well you look like crap,” she says in greeting, and it is true: there are bags under Four’s eyes that seem to indicate a late night.

“We had our latest round of cuts last night,” Four replies with a yawn. “Up literally until the sun rose trying to decide who to keep.”

“What was so hard about it? If you lie, you leave. Tell the truth and you stay,” Beatrice reasons.

“Yes,” Four sighs. “But which is worse: lying that your parents never beat you or lying that you're healthy when in reality you have a debilitating disease?”

Beatrice says nothing while Four sets up his clipboard.

“I don’t know,” she finally admits.

“No one does,” Four replies immediately. “It is a lie to think that we can decide one over the other.”

“So you… lied? Last night?” Beatrice asks bluntly.

“No,” Four says. “We kicked them both out.” Beatrice’s eyes widen. Only one initiate was supposed to fail each day.

“Let’s begin,” Four says, scooting his chair closer. “State your name.”

“Beatrice Prior.”

“And your original Faction, please.”

“Abnegation.”

And so the formalities go on: how are you finding Candor (good), what is the thing you are most proud of in this world (Caleb), and on and on and on until the lie detector has completely calibrated.

“Now for something new,” Four says, a flash of strange emotion on his face that Beatrice recognizes as both intrigue and excitement. He leans closer and Beatrice can smell his distinct, clean odor. She can feel her heart begin to race.

“Why, exactly,” Four smiles, “is your pulse racing?” He gestures to the detector, which is flailing rapidly from side to side. Beatrice locks eyes with him, then closes them in attempt to slow her pulse.

“No, Beatrice,” Four reprimands, his voice closer than ever. “Eyes open.”

Beatrice’s eyes flutter open, and there is Four, right in front of her: less than half a foot away.

“Stop,” Beatrice nearly begs.

“Is that your answer?” Four asks, raising his clipboard and pen. Beatrice groans.

“God damn it, Four,” Beatrice says, fingers shaking. There’s nothing she would like more than to lie now, but it’s too late. “Alright, alright. Fine.” She exhales and lets her misgivings go. “It’s you. Your… proximity. Your scent. The way you look, the way you talk to me like I’m an equal and not some scrawny kid. The way you interrogate me. The way you completely took Arthur down in Debate class yesterday.” She chuckles at the thought, then settles into a glare. “Is that specific enough for you?” Four’s eyes are wide, as if he hadn’t expected her to tell the truth.

Four goes to the control panel and deletes the session from the consol.

She rips off the electrodes attached to her skin.

“You’re an idiot,” she seethes, throwing the wires down.

“Beatrice,” Four tries.

“No,” she growls, storming out the room, her examiner trailing behind her. “You knew you’d be forcing me into a confession. I swear, I need to find better people to fall for. ”

“Beatrice-”

“But seriously!” she yells, spinning on her toes to face him. Her face is flushed, and to her surprise, so is his. “You-you are something else. Right now, in this moment, I loathe you.”

“For a moment of loathing, it was worth it,” Four shrugs. Beatrice’s mouth drops open.

“So what if I like you!” she finally manages. “Your face is pleasing enough, you’ve taken care of your body and you know it. You’re pretty much exhaulted around here, what with your measly four lies. Who wouldn’t find themselves attracted to you?”

“So that’s it? You’re just… attracted to me?” Four asks.

Beatrice closes her eyes and exhales. "Of course there's more. You must know."

“If it helps, I definitely have feelings for you,” Four throws out there casually. "And I hope to explore them."

Beatrice nearly chokes on her own spit. “You-you what?”

"Ah!" Four laughs low and deep. "Have I truly rendered the great Beatrice Prior speechless?" He takes her small shoulders in his hands to steady her. “Be still,” he says.

“Why?” she asks, slightly breathless. He sighs.

“Well, I was going for the element of surprise, but if you must know, I am about to kiss you. Acceptable?” Four grins down at her and, against all odds, Beatrice finds herself grinning up at him.

“Very.”

iii. “There is no way to peace, peace is the way.” - A.J. Muste              amity

“He’s been Paired already, Bea,” Robert tells her in a sad tone. Beatrice immediately looks down, away from Service Manager, and back to her trash grabber. They’re in the factionless district, cleaning up behind a shelter constructed by the Abnegation.

“I don’t know what you’re talking about,” Beatrice lies smoothly. The nickname Robert uses implies an odd closeness that Beatrice is uncomfortable with. “It would be nice if you could call me Beatrice, please.”

Robert nods. His blond curls duck in front of his eyes and freckled nose for an instant.

“Will you tell me more about Pairing, Robert?” Beatrice asks, interest piqued. Every so often she glances at Toby.

“It happens once we’re initiated,” Robert begins. “From what I’ve heard, you put in your preferences and the main offices take them into account. Then you’re… Paired with another person who, eventually, you’ll marry.”

“It doesn’t seem right to have all our decisions made for us,” Beatrice begins, but Robert silences her with a gesture.

“It keeps the peace. No in-fighting for the most handsome boy, or the prettiest girl. Just… acceptance. Acceptance for your lot in life. And acceptance breeds happiness. And peace.”

Robert is looking at her longingly. Beatrice turns back to Toby, who is waving her forward.

“And what if you want to appeal the Pairing?” Beatrice asks, eyes locked on Toby.

“You don’t,” Robert says. “At least, I’ve never heard of it.”

Beatrice walks to Toby, who wears a yellow Service Manager shirt that contrasts against Beatrice’s own bright red initiate tank top.

“You look troubled,” Toby smiles, handing her a different tool. “Anything I can do to help?”

Yes, Beatrice thinks. Forget whoever she is. Pair with me instead.

“No, I’m fine,” Beatrice says with a false smile. “Just a little tired.”

Toby rests his trash grabber against the side of the shelter and give her full hug. The smell of him envelopes her, and Beatrice squeezes back with as much emotion as possible, trying her hardest to wordlessly express what her heart cried out every day.

"Come talk to me," Toby says kindly when they break apart. "Whenever you feel.. a little tired." He raises and eyebrow and chuckles. "So that's what you kids are calling it these days."

She flinches. She doesn't want him to call her a kid.

"That sounds great," she says instead. Toby looks over her shoulder and waves at someone in the distance.

"That's my Partner," Toby sighs with either happiness or frustration--Beatrice cannot tell.

"She is very pretty," Beatrice tells him, and it is at least partially true: Beatrice can't really see the girl from here except for her crop of bright red hair that seems to flow from her head like a horse's mane.

Toby looks from his Partner to Beatrice, and something inside her breaks. She thinks it is her heart.

iv. "Sometimes you have to be selfish to be selfless." - Edward Albert              abnegation

They sit together, close but not touching, silent forms dressed in muted grey that blend into the darkening landscape.

“We are the most selfish thing I have ever done,” Tobias admits in a soft voice. He places his hand in between the two of them. Beatrice wears a knowing smile and places her hand atop his. Their physical contact seems to start a fire between them, because Beatrice’s hand begins to burn and quake.

“When dealing with romantic love, it is difficult not to be selfish,” she intones. “So think of me, rather than yourself.”

Tobias cocks his head to one side in confusion.

“You think being… together,” Beatrice begins, flushing furiously, “is selfish. But consider this: I experience great joy from our… union. You make me happy, Tobias. And this, perhaps, is my own selfishness speaking, but making someone else happy is in itself a selfless act.”

“Not when in making that other person happy,” Tobias murmurs, scooting closer to Beatrice, “you simultaneously pleasure yourself.”

Tobias blanches and blushes.

“Well that came out entirely wrong sounding,” Tobias laughs, and Beatrice laughs too, both sounds quiet on the evening air. And then there is quiet, as Tobias presses a soft kiss against Beatrice’s lips, quiet but for shaky breathing and hearts beating fast and the train above them hurtling by.

“I love you,” Beatrice whispers as they break from the kiss. Tobias rests his forehead against Beatrice’s, brushing his nose against her own, mouths centimeters apart.

“I love you too, Tris,” he whispers, sealing his words (and their fate) with a kiss. The nickname’s tone of familiarity gives her a warm sensation in the pit of her stomach.

“So when do we tell the families?” Tobias asks, grinning widely.

“Soon,” Beatrice says. “Today.”

They’re walking back into town when they see the Dauntless hoard. Then they run.

v. "Humankind cannot bear very much reality." - T.S. Eliot              dauntless

His shirt clings to his chest, and Tris takes a moment to appraise the hard lines that fade and reappear as the winds whip and whirl around the two of them. Tris feels something hard inside of her chest soften as she approaches him. Their hands graze.

“We can’t stay here,” Tobias tells her as she settles in front of him. He rests a hand on her waist-not possessive, but comfortable, familiar. Like it belongs there. The two of them stand together now, appraising the Amity compound from a distance. Tris nods, knowing that every moment they spent unprotected by Amity’s walls was another minute they could be killed by Dauntless snipers.

Tris moves away from Tobias and sits in the absurdly green grass. She can feel Tobias wrapping his body around her from behind, his warmth a pleasant reminder of his presence. He says nothing, merely lets the tip of his nose trace meaningless patterns on the back of her neck. Tris sighs, leaning back into her former instructor. Encouraged by her actions, Tobias slides Tris around and takes her hands in his. He looks into her eyes and she blanches-the expression on his face is terrifyingly serious. Tris almost retracts her hands, buts instead, she remains very still, waiting.

“Stay with me,” Tobias murmurs at last. “I don’t… I don’t want this to end without you near me.”

“I’m not going anywhere,” Tris says automatically. “You might not believe this, but I need you significantly more than you need me.” She presses a hand to his cheek, and he kisses her palm sweetly.

“I’d fall apart without you,” Tobias says.

“Who says I haven’t already fallen apart,” Tris replies, eyes distant. She allows herself a flash of her mother's face, whirling in battle; a glimpse of her father, still in death... and then she puts the memories away, wrapping them in grief for another time. She pulls herself onto Tobias’s lap, wrapping her legs around his waist. Tobias wraps an arm around Tris’s waist, pulling her in closer.

“I do,” Tobias says defiantly. “We may no longer be counted among the Dauntless, but Tris, you are brave. You make the people around you braver. And not just braver: kinder, more selfless... smarter, too. You’re Divergent for a reason, Tris. You inspire in people the best qualities from each faction.”

“I don’t want to inspire anyone,” Tris sighs. “I just want you. A place to stay with a ceiling and a locked door would also be nice.”

“You’ve got me,” Tobias sighs. “You’ve definitely got me. And I completely concur about the locked door thing.” They both laugh, but the moment is short and bittersweet. Tris stands, and pulls Tobias up with too hands, and then they’re both looking down at their three companions: Peter, Caleb, and Marcus. Tobias shudders and Tris clutches at his side like a life vest.

“You can do this,” she breathes. “We can leave him in Amity.”

“I wouldn’t wish him on Amity in a million years,” Tobias sighs forlornly.

“Well, I would,” Tris growls. “Maybe they’ll rub off on him.” Tobias snorts in disbelief.

“Yeah, that’ll be the day.”

They kiss briefly and make their way down to the campsite. Amity awaits on the horizon, a brief pitstop on the way to glory, death, or both.