Summary: I just joined the Divergent Nation. It's lovely being here. This is set in Divergent. Four snapshots through the eyes of the four men in Tris' life- Four/Tobias, Al, Caleb, and her father. Please review. -Lu

FOUR

She's light in my arms, as light as a child. No. Don't use that word. She's proven herself more than most of the adult men and women of Dauntless. She's small and she looks defenceless but Tris is no child.

The familiar bareness of my room greets me as I shove through the door and as always my eyes are drawn to the only splash of colour in there, the myriad of blues that cover the bed. There is something so calming about the colour. You can lose yourself for hours in the depths of a million shades of blue and when you swim your way back to the surface it's always as if your mind is fresh and clear. I've lost myself in the cool musings of the colours adorning my bed many a night after walking my fear landscape. The gentle, soothing lap of the colour dabs at the raw pain and burning terror of memories and nightmares.

Tris's hair makes a golden halo against the blue as I place her on the bed. Without meaning to my fingers trail through the golden strands as I pull back and I stand and stare at her for a moment. Normally I wouldn't allow myself this luxury, it's far too dangerous for the both of us and there is already too many whisperings to allow me to feel safe. I count to ten slowly in my head, ten seconds of watching her breathe. In and out. I hold my own breath to feel the silence of the room press in upon me and try not to get drawn into the shadow of her eyelashes against her skin. When the last second ticks by I turn quickly and stride from the room. I am strict with myself. I said ten seconds. The air hisses in and out of my clenched teeth as I march back through the dim passageways to the Chasm. The heap of dark clothing on the floor is exactly where I left him. I give Drew a brutal nudge with my foot as I approach and smile sadistically at the groan that escapes the bloody mess. Not a single drop of pity or guilt flows through my veins as I look down contemptuously at him. Shame it was him really. I know he's not the one I want, not really. It's really Peter I want to be a writhing mass of bloody pain...And Al...

I give him another nudge with my foot and sigh, gazing around. I suppose I'll have to take him to the infirmary. My eyes fall on the metal railings, the exact spot I just saved Tris from tumbling to her death, and my eyes drop back to Drew. It would be so easy to tip him over the edge. It would solve two problems really. I wouldn't have to explain why one of my initiates was a bloody mess and Tris would have one less predator on her trail. As I glance back at the edge again I bite my lip, tossing the idea over in my head. My calculating mind weighs up the benefits and costs of going through with it...with murder. But my deeper nature trickles through the logic and a little moral voice joins the chorus. Not to be outdone my red hot fury, still burning strong, and my learned cruelty from Dauntless whispers in my ear; three conflicting natures that twist and entangle my brain as it fights to make a decision.

Another pitiful moan from the ground at my feet makes the decision for me. Swearing under my breath I haul a protesting Drew into a standing position, taking far less heed of his injuries than I did with Tris, and begin to drag him in the direction of the hospital.

"You don't know how lucky you are asshole," I whisper under my breath as we make slow progress down the passageways.

There is a spluttering noise from Drew that is followed by a sharp grunt of pain as I hoist his arm further over my shoulder.

"W-we just..." he mutters, and stops as his feet stumble over an uneven bit of ground. I keep moving at the same pace, pulling him along and gritting my teeth as I wonder what possible justification he is going to give the attack. "Just w-wanted...t-to scare...her..." he rattles out eventually.

Sharp pain shoots up my jaw with the strength with which I grit my teeth to stop from throttling him. Luckily for him, and perhaps for me too, the lights of the infirmary are before us in the dark. I release my grip on Drew and he slithers pathetically to the ground. I give a sharp tap on the doors. As I hear the scuttle of footsteps on the other side I lean down so my lips are next to Drew's ear.

"Who's scared now?" I hiss icily. The doors open suddenly and I straighten up and nod curtly at Lauren. "Found this one fighting with the other initiates," I say simply and without waiting for her surprise I turn my back and stride off down the passageway. I know that even if she suspects me of lying, which she undoubtedly will, Lauren won't be the one to tell anyone.

It only takes me a few moments to reach my room again as I storm through the corridors. As soon as I am standing outside the door I stop and inhale a deep, slightly shaky breath. For several seconds I rest my forehead against the cool wood of the door and try to suppress the boil of rage inside me. When I think I have it under control I slip the door open and step into the room.

Exactly as I left it. My eyes are drawn to the same spot as always but now I don't know whether it's because of the bright splash of colour or because of Tris. I flick my eyes over her quickly- I've already had my ten seconds and I don't allow myself any more indulgence. She's still passed out but she could be sleeping, except for the bruise forming on her cheekbone. I shy my eyes away from her and glance down at my hands. They're still covered in blood. Quietly I head to the small bathroom and turn my back to Tris, running water in the sink and starting to scrub the blood away. Some of it is mine, from the fresh splits that have opened on my knuckles, but most of it is Drew's. The water in the basin turns a pale pink as it swishes away the blood. I run the water, turning my hands over and over under the gentle stream, until it runs clear. The rhythm and the cleansing calm the last of my immediate anger and so I turn off the tap and dry my hands, staring at my reflection briefly in the mirror. There is a small cut on my lip. I don't remember getting hit but then I don't ever remember much when I get like that. All I see is red.

Tossing the towel aside I turn back to the room, determinedly keeping my eyes from the bed. But as I crouch to get an icepack from the fridge I feel her eyes on me and so when I suddenly turn to face her my gaze goes directly to hers. She's watching me warily but then her eyes flick down to my hands and I see a look of concern flash over her features.

"Your hands."

You've got to be kidding me! She's the one worried about me? If she wasn't wincing as she tried to lift her head I would feel like laughing at the ridiculousness. So instead I walk calmly towards her and kneel with one knee on the side of the mattress.

"My hands are none of your concern," I reply simply as I lean over her and lift her head slightly to place the icepack there. She seems unconvinced and then she's reaching out towards me and I freeze. She hesitates a second but then her fingertips touch lightly to the cut on my lip. My eyes are searching hers as she stares at my mouth, a slight frown creasing her forehead.

I'm desperately tempted to reach for her hand, to hold it there and to kiss her fingertips. But instead I speak against them, feeling the tremble in her arm as I do.

"Tris, I'm alright." It's ridiculous I even have to reassure her of this; after all, she's the one who almost met an unfortunate end at the bottom of the Chasm tonight. I squeeze my eyes shut tightly for a second at the thought, but just a second, not long enough for her to notice. Her hand falls from my lips and I rock backwards away from her and I pretend I don't see a flash of disappointment in her eyes.