The Iron Soldier: A FourTris Divergent Story

Chapter 39

AN: Here is a new update for those of you who are snowed in. I hope you enjoy and that it will answer a few questions for you. Thank you so much for your continued support.

Thanks again Eunice339, my amazing beta reader.

Four's POV

The sound of the chopper blades slicing through the air has me breathing a sigh of relief. Tris is unconscious, but she's still breathing when I carry her to the outside courtyard where we will easily be seen from the sky.

The WWTR agents start to jump out before the helicopter sets down on the ground. They are armed to the teeth and keep their guns trained on me while even more soldiers join them.

"Get down on your knees with your hands up!" The first to take position demands, yelling as if I were charging him. Every ounce of my identity screams in my head: run, fight, resist, live. I can't do any of those things. Though I prefer to die on my feet, I can't take the chance of a stray bullet hitting Tris. Instead, I grit my teeth as I get down on my knees. With my hands held high, a group of agents advance upon me, taking me down to the ground when they reach me. I don't resist, just as Natalie advised, but that does little to spare me from their wrath. One pushes my head against the ground while several others shackle my hands and legs. Another kicks me in my already damaged ribcage with the tip of his steal-toe boot. I growl in agony at the sharp pain that travels the full length of my body. I want to hate these men, but I can't. After all, I am a terrorist. I murdered some of their brothers. Time hasn't made that fact go away.

Several others run past me, attending to Tris. I watch them inject the stalling agent into her arm and a feeling of peace washes over me. She's going to make it. It doesn't matter what happens to me now. Tris is going to be okay and that's all that matters.

Tris' POV

I'm disoriented when I wake up. My eyes are blurry and my entire body aches. I don't know where I am, but there is something familiar surrounding me. It takes a moment to realize what that is—a delicate fragrance that I haven't smelled in a very long time.

I blink, over and over, trying to clear my vision until I can make out the silhouette of someone sitting beside me. I squeeze my eyes closed one more time and turn toward the shadowy figure. As soon as her face comes into focus, my heart leaps into my stomach. "Mom? Is that you?"

"Oh, my girl." She pulls me into her arms, holding me close to her chest. "I knew you'd come back to me. You're so strong." She curls a lock of my hair around her index finger. "And beautiful. You're all grown up now."

I pull away and look around. I am in a hospital room, surrounded by medical equipment and the overpowering smell of everything sterile.

I am at a loss for words. How can this be? My mother died when I was five. "Oh my God. Am I dead?"

My mother giggles lightly. "No, of course not. You're going to be just fine." A single tear escapes her control and rolls down her cheek. "Can you ever forgive me?"

"Forgive you for what?" I am far too confused to know if I am hallucinating or if my dead mother is really begging me for forgiveness.

My mother grabs my hand, squeezing it gently. "I did everything wrong. Absolutely everything."

I can do nothing but stare at her.

"I made a lot of bad choices and I've done some bad things in my life. But the worst, by far, was leaving my family."

"Leaving us?" I shake my head, unable to comprehend her statement. "Mom, you died. It wasn't your fault."

She laughs as she plants a kiss on my forehead. "Honey, maybe we should continue this conversation later." She stands, but I squeeze her hand so she can't slip away.