Hello! This is my first Divergent fanfiction writing. I've played around with one other story about the Hunger Games characters Finnick and Annie, but I regret saying that I lost a lot of ambition over that one. Anyways, this story is basically just a rewrite of the scene when Four/Tobias takes Tris into his fear landscape, except it's in Four's point of view. I realize that this altering the POV is the Slacker's Anthem of fanfiction writing, but I really wanted to share my take on it. Please leave comments!
Disclaimer: All dialogue, characters, and plots are the original work of Veronica Roth. I owe all credit to her, because it follows the original scene from the book Divergent almost exactly.
I stand at the door of the fear landscape room, lifting myself slightly on the balls of my feet. Footsteps tap on the floor; it's her, Tris, and I can tell she was trying to go unnoticed by the hesitation in her usually quick stride.
"Since you're here, you might as well go in with me," I say distractedly. I don't look at her; I'll lose my resolve if I do.
"Into you fear landscape?" she asks incredulously.
"Yes."
Maybe this is proof that I'm crazy, or that I like her way more than I should, but something feels right about exposing myself to Tris. After this she'll know more about me than anyone. My name. My father. My fears.
"I can do that?" she asks.
"The serum connects you to the program," I reply, "but the program determines whose landscape you go through. And right now, it's set to put us through mine."
"You would let me see that?"
She's the only one I would let see this.
"Why else do you think I'm going in?" I'm still not looking at her. "There are some things I want to show you."
I take out one of the two syringes containing the simulation serum, pushing the needle into her neck, and she grimaces slightly. When I'm done, I hand her the box with the other syringe, and she glances up at me with wide eyes.
"I've never done this before," she mumbles nervously.
I suppress a grin and tap the spot on my neck where I've injected myself so many times before. Briefly I'm reminded of every time I've been through my fear landscape, and how nothing has changed during all that time. I'm shoved back into the present when Tris removes the needle from my skin. She takes my outstretched hand, and I hold hers tightly. I wonder if she can tell how uneasy I am about this, about her.
"See if you can figure out why they call me Four," I say. I know she will.
Together we walk into the room until we are consumed by darkness. I feel her press against me. I shiver slightly and prepare myself for the first simulation: heights.
"What's your real name?" she asks. What is it with her and her questions?
Vaguely I say, "See if you can figure that out too."
I squeeze my eyes shut before fear takes over. When I open them again, we are standing on top of a building so high up the wind almost knocks us over. I wrap my arm around Tris's small shoulders; partly to shield her from the wind, mostly because I'll need her to keep me on my feet if my breathing stays this erratic.
I look down at her to keep my gaze from drifting over the edge of the skyscraper. Her blue eyes are wide, but not with fear. She looks excited and filled with adrenaline, and I am momentarily distracted by the pink flush in her cheeks.
"We have to jump off, right?"
I nod, not trusting my voice at this altitude. Panic is gripping at my chest – I long to be safely at ground level.
"On three, okay?"
How can she be so calm when my heart is threatening to leap out of my chest? For the millionth time, I am in awe of her bravery. And they call me fearless.
"One…two…three!" she pulls me along as we run to the edge of the building, and before I can stop our momentum, my feet leave the ground and I'm falling. Falling until I'm crouching on the floor of an entirely different scene. I see Tris smile before she helps me to my feet.
"What's next?"
"It's-" I start to reply, but then the walls close in, slamming her forward until she collides with my chest.
Oh no. This fear is almost worse than the heights. I bend over to stop the ceiling from pressing into my back, but it follows me without delay.
"Confinement," Tris answers her own question.
I moan like a wounded animal and she turns her head to look at me.
"Hey," she says. "It's okay. Here—"
It is most definitely not okay, but I can't say that I don't feel slightly better when she wraps my arms around her tiny waist. I bury my face in her hair, trying to control my heavy breathing. She smells like clean linen, like the houses in the Abnegation. She smells like home.
"This is the first time I'm happy I'm so small," she says with a laugh.
It's a struggle to hear what she's saying over the sound of my pulsing heart, so I make a small hum of acknowledgement.
"We can't break out of here," she says, and this time I make an effort to listen. "It's easier to face the fear head on, right? So what you need to do is make the space smaller. Make it worse until it gets better. Right?"
"Yes." No.
"Okay. We'll have to crouch, then. Ready?"
Tris pulls me down by my waist, and the walls continue to contract. She turns and curls against me, so that we're tangled together in this tiny box of a space. I gasp and my lungs clutch at the oxygen left in my body. I can't see her face anymore, and that leaves me totally focused on the lack of room.
"Ah," I wheeze. "This is worse. This is definitely…"
"Shh," she consoles. "Arms around me."
I do as I'm told, pulling her closer than is probably necessary or appropriate in a platonic relationship. But of course, a platonic relationship is not what I want.
It feels good to hold someone—to hold her. It takes the edge off the fear. I can't remember the last time I was so close to another person, physically or emotionally. I hardly know her at all, yet she's already got a hold over me.
"The simulation measures your fear response," she's still using that calm voice, "So if you can calm your heartbeat down, it will move on to the next one. Remember? So try to forget that we're here."
"Yeah?" I say sarcastically against her ear. "That easy, huh?"
"You know, most boys would enjoy being trapped in close quarters with a girl."
"Not claustrophobic people, Tris!"
"Okay, okay." She takes my hand and places it on top of her chest. Her heart flutters beneath my fingers. "Feel my heartbeat. Can you feel it?"
"Yes."
"Feel how steady it is?"
I quirk an eyebrow, confused by her question. "It's fast."
"Yes, well, that has nothing to do with the box." She says hurriedly.
Oh?
She continues, "Every time you feel me breathe, you breathe. Focus on that."
"Okay."
Her chest rises and falls at the pace of someone sleeping, and it's not so difficult to match after a while.
"Why don't you tell me where this fear comes from. Maybe talking about it will help us… somehow."
God Tris, of all the things you could ask me about. But I promised her information.
"Um… okay." I clear my throat. "This one is from my fantastic childhood. Childhood punishments. The tiny closet upstairs."
I can still remember that closet. If my fear landscape really wanted to torture me, it would have put dusty boxes and umbrellas with pointy tips in this small space.
"My mother kept our winter coats in our closet." Tris says thoughtfully.
"I don't…" I manage to say. "I don't really want to talk about it anymore." I know I won't have to justify my reluctance to her.
"Okay. Then...I can talk. Ask me something."
A laugh bubbles up in my throat. "Okay. Why is your heart racing, Tris?"
I feel her cringe against me. "Well, I…" she pauses. "I barely know you. I barely know you and I'm crammed up against you in a box, Four, what do you think?"
I think she's nervous. I grin.
"If we were in your fear landscape," I start, "would I be in it?"
"I'm not afraid of you."
"Of course you're not. But that's not what I meant."
The laugh escapes me, and in turn we escape the box. I let go of Tris reluctantly, and rise to stretch my limbs. While she recovers from the confinement, I turn to face her.
"Maybe you were cut out for Candor," I say cockily, "because you're a terrible liar."
She scowls. "I think my aptitude test ruled that out pretty well."
"The aptitude test tells you nothing."
"What are you trying to tell me?" she says, "Your test isn't the reason you ended up in Dauntless?"
She's fishing for information, and I don't like the way the conversation is headed. Before I can ward off her questions, a flash of movement catches my eye. It's her, the woman, pointing her silver handgun at us. Out of all four of my fears, this is the one that is easiest to overcome. The guilt that comes after I must shoot her has become familiar overtime, but not so familiar that it will leave my fear landscape.
I reach for my own gun that I know is there, and understanding fills Tris's face.
"You have to kill her," she says.
"Every single time." I breathe.
"She isn't real."
"She looks real." My eyebrows pull together. "It feels real."
"If she was real, she would have killed you already."
I'm grateful for her at this moment. Her soft voice reminds me where I am.
"It's okay." I tell her. "I'll just…do it. This one's not…not so bad. Not as much panic involved."
I raise the gun over my left shoulder, and take aim on the woman's forehead. Inhale, exhale. I don't look after I squeeze the trigger. I haven't missed. I never miss.
We stand in solemn silence until Tris tugs on my arm. "C'mon," she says insistently. "Let's go. Keep moving."
I know what's coming next, what Tris will see next. It's him.
"Here we go," I whisper. Be brave, Four.
My father looms ahead of me, his bland Abnegation clothes only bringing out the blackness of his eyes. I freeze, unable to look away.
Tris says quietly, "Marcus."
I hate that she recognizes him, but I must confirm the conclusion that she's undoubtedly come to.
"Here's the part," I say, "where you figure out my name."
"Is he…" She looks back and forth between me and the gray clothed monster, my father, and her eyes widen.
Then, with a disbelieving stare, she says my name.
"Tobias."
The simulation Marcus moves, unwinding the brown leather belt on his fist.
"This is for your own good," he says. His voice echoes hundred times—once for every time he's uttered that sentence to me.
He lifts his arm swiftly, bringing the belt back like a whip, and I raise my arm to keep the unavoidable sting from reaching my face. But the blow never comes. I open my eyes to find Tris, fearless and reckless, throwing her small body in front of me, shielding me. I watch in horror as Marcus strikes the belt around her arm, making her flinch in pain.
She rips the belt from his grasp, causing it to hit him in the shoulder. My father lets out a guttural screech, reaching his arms out to retaliate.
My lip curls in a snarl, and anger rushes through my veins, chasing out the fear. How dare he hurt her. He can strike me with that belt as many times as he wants, but something about seeing him do anything to her turns my blood to ice.
I grab her arms, pulling her swiftly behind me. I'm ready for Marcus's attack, but at the last minute the scene vanishes, leaving us in the reality of the fear landscape room.
Tris looks around, seemingly unfazed by the last fifteen minutes.
"That's it?" she says. "Those were your worst fears? Why do you only have four…"
I realize I've been staring at her like an idiot for this entire time, but I can't look away.
"Oh." She continues. "That's why they call you—"
She stops, meeting my gaze with her own puzzled one. I almost groan out loud from the oncoming realization.
I'm in too deep, I just know it. My subconscious slaps me in the face, screaming at me that if I let myself feel for Tris like I want to, I'll only lose her.
But the Dauntless in me ignores the warning, and I yank Tris into my arms, running my lips across her cheek, my breathing still heavy. I feel her heart accelerate, and she pauses for a second before winding her arms around me.
"Hey," she whispers. "We got through it."
Oh. She thinks my act of passion is a result of the fear landscape.
"You got me through it," I say. It's the truth.
"Well." She swallows. My hand is moving gently through her hair, and I wonder if she feels as nervous as I do when I touch her. "It's easy to be brave when they're not my fears."
She's always brave.
She releases me from her hold, but I'm quick to take her hand back in mine. I sigh, and pull her towards our next destination.
"Come on," I say. "I have something else to show you."