Hey, this is for 4 Alaza-Mz. Jane Doe .Fangirlss!

I hope this is to your liking! I really struggled to get the right dynamic that I wanted; but I finally settled on this. ANyway, hope y'all like it!

This is rated T for strong language and slightly darker themes

I do not own Divergent or any related characters/situations

This is a slightly AU version of the chasm scene

Characters may or may not be ooc, just a warning!

Enjoy!


Tris' yelp died on her tongue as her face was covered—a hand on her mouth. Strong arms held onto her—dragging her through the compound.

She squirmed—twisting her body, but their grip tightened and someone threw a jab to her ribs. Tris winced, tears brimming behind her eyes. What's going on? Tris' mind whirred as she bucked and flailed—nails trying to dig into the arms around her. She inhaled sharply, trying to calm her heartbeat. There's two pairs of hands on me—so there's at least two of them.

"We're almost there," a thick voice whispered. Tris' eyes narrowed. Molly.

The roaring sound of water washed over Tris and she felt her stomach drop. The chasm. Her scream was muffled by the hand—a fist hitting her ribs. She was pushed against the railing, a strong grip holding her steady. She took a deep breath and froze. That familiar lemongrass scent engulfed her. The hand was removed from her mouth as she was hoisted up a little, toes skimming the ground.

"Al?" she croaked—earning another jab to the ribs. She heard a soft gasp as a hand rubbed up on her.

"I don't really know what he sees in her," the voice cooed. Tris tried to picture who the voice belonged to but she couldn't think too hard as his fingertips skimmed her chest. She cried—wiggling against the metal bar.

Molly's loud snickering echoed all around her as his fingertips pushed into her—nails digging into her chest. "Stop," Al said, voice low and shaky.

"We're just having a little fun, right Al?"

"Don't be such a coward," Molly sneered, a rough hand grabbing onto Tris' hair through the sack—snapping her head back.

"I can't—" Al said as footsteps echoed down the hallway. A pair of hands left her—lemongrass scent fading away.

With Al gone, she used her window of freedom to her advantage—twisting out of their grasp. She heard one of them curse under their breath as they knocked into her. Spots danced in front of her eyes as her head connected with the metal railing—her body slumping to the ground.

The sounds of fighting echoed around her as she took the sack off of her face—blinking hard against the darkness. Her vision was blurry as she watched a dark figure slam into Molly.

Her eyes were wide and mouth was slightly open as the mysterious figure punched Molly in the face—a deafening crack drowning on the roaring waters below.

Tris was watching Molly get pushed into the wall, blood dotting her face before she took off. A scream bubbled in her throat as a hand wrapped around her neck—hot breath pelting her ear. The figure turned around and Tris narrowed her eyes.

She could see dark eyes and clenched fists—his slender body towering above them. The boy behind her was trembling as his grip around her throat tightened. Tris gagged—trying to breathe.

"Let go of her," the figure's voice was deep—familiar, but Tris couldn't pin it down.

Her elbow slammed behind her—the boy's cry piercing her eardrums. She twisted away as the sounds of flesh on flesh echoed around her. She collapsed by the wall—blinking eyes trying to focus. She watched his fist connect with the boy's face—his cries long gone. Her vision began to shift as the figure stood up and walked to her.

He tilted his head as he looked down on her—arms outstretched. Tris inhaled sharply, his warm scent encasing her—all earth and musk. The air shifted and she glanced down—the ground moving beneath her. Her eyes drifted back to him as he carried her—shadows covering his face. She winced as his hands skimmed over her ribs—darkness spotting her vision.

She watched his lips move—no words coming out. Her eyes traveled back up his face—things coming in and out of focus. His slightly parted lips. His dark eyes—green flecks swimming in their brown depths. Her brows furrowed as his hand caressed her face. She leaned into his calloused thumb—eyes blinking as they settled on his hair, a dark halo, the last thing her eyes took in before darkness overcame her.


Tris cried out as she awoke—a deep pain throbbing in her side. Warm hands were on her—nudging her back down on the bed. Where am I?

She looked up and was staring into dark blue eyes—his hooked nose inches from hers. "Are you okay?" Four asked, voice deep.

Tris nodded softly, breath hitching in her throat. "What happened?"

She heard him exhale softly through his nose before leaning back. "You were attacked—almost thrown over the chasm. Do you remember who did it?"

Tris' eyes widened as her memories crawled back to her. Hands on her—the chasm—lemongrass. Her mouth ran dry as tears brimmed in the back of her throat—hot. She clenched her fists in Four's sheets—anger swelling in her stomach. "Al."

Four's eyebrow raised as he rubbed his chin in thought. "There were three in total. Do you remember the other two? I know it was dark—but if you could give me something—"

"Molly. Molly was there," Tris said, swallowing hard. "I don't know the other one."

Four scoffed. "It's either Peter or Drew."

Tris was about to blurt out Peter's name but it died on her tongue. Her eyes narrowed—trying to remember the boy who had touched her. She shook her head, sighing softly. "I think it was Drew. He didn't sound like Peter and his hands were different."

Four tilted his head to the side, eyes narrowed. "How do you—"

"Peter and I fought before—I remember his hands—" Tris inhaled sharply—feeling heat color her neck. "And this other guy's hands were different."

Four's jaw clenched. "How do you know what they felt like?"

"He touched me," Tris said, voice almost a whisper.

She pushed herself back into the mattress—eyes watching Four's dark blue orbs cloud over. He balled up his fists and turned to leave—Tris' hands wrapping around him and pulling him back down. His face was inches from hers—nostrils flaring.

"I can't just sit here and do nothing."

Tris cocked her head to the side a moment before shaking her head. "Please, don't. It's not what you think—it—just, please."

His jaw clenched and unclenched before he nodded softly. "You should get some sleep." He leaned back a little, his big hands falling into hers.

She smiled softly, her fingers smoothing over his unblemished hands. She blinked rapidly, mind too scattered to think clearly, before she settled into his bed—his soft scent engulfing her. Her lips turned down a moment—his scent light, like a gentle breeze. You're not him, she thought as darkness overcame her.


She stopped before the cafeteria doors, arms shaking and eyes narrowed. Four's words echoed in her mind. Keep down low—let your friends take care of you. Tris dug her nails into her palms, anger boiling beneath her skin. With a huff, she walked in.

She slouched her shoulders and took tentative steps forward. Her eyes glanced up and shock filled her veins. Drew and Molly looked like hell. Molly's face was swollen—lip cracked. Her right eye was covered in a dark bruise and her nose looked broken. Tris looked to Drew—his lip busted and jaw bruised. He was sporting two black eyes and his right arm was in a sling. Their eyes locked on hers and she bit her tongue, cowering down as she sat with her friends.

Christina's gaze settled on her, eyebrow raised. "What's wrong?"

Tris sighed deeply, mouth open to speak when his voice swarmed her. She turned around, Al's face contorted in sadness. His eyes were red with tears and his lower lip was quivering.

"Tris, I—I'm sorry," he said—voice cracking.

Tris snapped up, anger filling her limbs. She narrowed her eyes. "No. You don't get to do that." He tilted his head, fresh tears brimming behind his eyes.

"I don't know what's wrong with me."

"You're a coward," she spat—fists clenched. "Stay away from me! Don't ever come near me again."

Tris' body was shaking in anger as Al stalked off. She turned around and sat down—trying to steady her breathing.

"What was that about?" Christina asked.

"I was attacked last night," Tris whispered, throat dry. "Molly and Drew—"

"Shit, they look like hell," Uriah quipped, cutting her off. "I applaud whoever did that."

Christina narrowed her eyes. "What was that with Al?"

Tris looked up, inhaling sharply. "Al was there, too." She shut her eyes, fighting back the surge of emotions that were swelling in her chest.

"Are you serious?" Tris didn't know who asked, didn't care—she simply nodded softly—stifling a sob.

Uriah took one of Tris' hands, Christina gripping the other. "I'm so sorry," she said, squeezing Tris' hand.

Tris smiled—anger swirling in her stomach as they chatted. They talked about why Al would do that—saying he's been weird since stage one. Tris tuned them out, feigning cowardice. She wasn't afraid. She was livid. She was hurt.


Christina sobbed onto Tris' shoulder as they lifted Al's body. Tris suppressed an eyeroll as Eric talked about his bravery. With clenched fists, she stalked off—feet carrying her down a dark hallway.

She walked on until her feet started to twitch. Sighing, she braced herself against the wall and slid down—feet outstreched before her.

"Don't like funerals, Stiff?"

Tris bristled at his voice—hands clenched by her sides. She looked up to see Peter, his lean frame against the wall. Of course I run into you. His hands were in his pockets as he arched his back, stifling a yawn. She watched the shadows dance across his face, his dark hair gleaming in the light.

Tris averted her gaze and scoffed. "He wasn't brave. He threw himself over the chasm. That's not bravery."

Peter quirked an eyebrow. "Is that all he did?"

Tris eyes snapped to his—narrowed. "Why are you still here, Peter?"

A smirk crossed his face as he slid down the wall to the ground, opposite of Tris. After a moment of silence, he shrugged—a small chuckle escaping his lips as Tris scoffed. "Feisty today, are we?"

Tris huffed, her entire being too tired to argue. "Something like that."

She watched his face soften for a moment, her stomach flipping when his bruised lip came into view. She tilted her head to the side before leaning forward. She ignored his raised eyebrows as she scanned his face. Her eyes trailed over his busted lip—taking in the mark above his eye, his slightly swollen cheek, a thin pink gash across his chest. Without thinking, her finger traced the line—Peter's body going rigid under her touch.

"What are you doing?" His voice was low and it stirred something within her—her heart drumming in her throat. She inhaled sharply, his scent swarming her—all earth and musk. She blinked rapidly—her head feeling very light as she slipped into him—his arms wrapping around her. "Shit. Tris?" His hand was caressing her cheek, the other shaking her shoulder gently.

"It was you," she whispered, eyebrows knitting together.

"What?" he asked.

Why? Confusion washed over her as the words 'thank you' bubbled up her throat, dying on her tongue. She shook her head as her eyelids fluttered closed. She felt him shift under her, a grunt escaping as he lifted her up. She heard him mutter under his breath as he walked—his heartbreat drumming in her ears.

"You awake, Stiff?" he asked, voice seemingly far away.

She kept still, feigning sleep as he carried her. She heard a small knock—a grumbled noise on the other side. The door opened and a gasp escaped him. Tris didn't open her eyes, she knew who Peter was standing in front of.

"What did you do?" Four asked, voice dark. "This is the second time you've brought her here—unconscious."

She felt Peter stiffen around her. "I didn't do anything. She passed out—I—I found her."

"Give her to me," Four ordered.

Tris kept as still as possible as Peter shifted her to Four—her fingers tracing over his knuckles before Four took her in his arms. Tris resisted the urge to bite her lip, confusion filling her veins as her fingertips tingled after running over his skin—cut and scraped.

She settled against Four's chest as his arms snaked around her—his warmth different than Peter's. "Thanks," Four said, voice strained.

"I didn't do anything," Peter mumbled before the sounds of footsteps padded away.

Tris opened her eyes slightly—watching his retreating figure. His lean frame cast in shadows—hair like a dark halo. She smiled softly. Thank you, Peter.


I hope that was good! The prompt was to have Peter save Tris instead of trying to throw her over the chasm. I felt that, whatever his motives are (I sort of left it up in the air for you to decide, with some hints here and there), he wouldn't want to be recognized as the hero. And Tris, being who she is, knows he saved her but won't make a big deal out of it because she understand he doesn't want to be known for saving a Stiff, ya dig?

Also, sorry it's so short-but it felt right to end it where I did. There isn't much to do with how I wanted to portray it-but I think it's meaty enough even though it's short.

Anyway, follow/favorite/review; do the lovely things you do!

I was wondering if you guys wanted to maybe follow my Tumblr and then I'd start posting up there when I'm updating for which fic? Because I get a lot of reviews asking me to update this or that and some get worried I'm not going to update a specific story. (I'll never abandon a fic until it says complete, even then I might do a sequel)

So, this way I can say what story I'm working on at what time and there won't be a lot of confusion? You guys can also send me requests/prompts on there. Just a thought :)

dardarbinx101 is my username thing on there :)

Until next time, bye-bye!