Disclaimer: I don't own Divergent or any of the characters.

Thanks to all who reviewed 'Resolution'. This is for those who wanted more from Four's POV.

Staring at a screen all day without losing focus is a kind of endurance that Dauntless doesn't train for, which might be why Eric was more than happy to leave the grunt work of the second stage of training to me. You'd think with his obvious enjoyment of other people's pain he would want to be here, but there's no glamour in it – no chance to intimidate the initiates with the promise of pain. Sure, they would experience fear – some of them real terror – but apparently it's not the same when he doesn't get to inflict it personally.

I shut the door behind Al – some of the initiates command respect but every encounter with Al increases my disgust. He has power and strength but is completely gutless. I understand his reluctance to use his power against those who are weaker, his reluctance to become cruel – a bully – but rather than find a way to use his power well, he has made himself weak. He is too much of a coward to face his own dark side – there is no place in Dauntless for him. He should be gone by now and I can't believe that we've lost someone like Edward and still have this pathetic specimen. I resent every moment I have to spend training him, every investment in him that increases his chance of becoming Dauntless. Sometimes I wonder how I became so hard – and that's what really scares me – that I might become a man with no regard for other people's pain. Then I opened the door into the corridor and saw her there, and realised again that I did care. And that scared me too if I was honest. Scared me because my choices weren't so simple anymore. Tris sat in the corridor – I'd been putting off dealing with her simulation all day, but I needed to do it. I wanted to postpone exposing her to this, but seeing her nervousness I realised I was just prolonging the agony for her.

She rose when I called her, and deftly dodged Drew's childish attempt to trip her – what an ass. I followed her back into the simulation room, and had to halt abruptly as she backed up towards the door again. I didn't need the software to sense her unease – I could feel the trembling in her whole frame as she pressed against my chest - but I'm wondering where it comes from. She's so small, and I'm amazed again that she has managed to survive the physical challenge of the first stage. The only time that she could have seen equipment like this is at her aptitude test, and I've never heard of anyone being frightened by it. Did something happen during her test? I don't ask her though, simply instruct her to sit as I guide her towards the chair. She stalls again and avoids sitting.

'What's the simulation?' she asks me. Her anxiety causes her voice to shake. So – was it the equipment that freaked her out, or the test simulation? I make a mental note to check the footage from her test.

'Ever hear the phrase "face your fears"? We're taking that literally.' I watch her while I explain the process to her, as she tries to get her fear under control. All the initiates are nervous at this stage, but she's seriously rattled. She succeeds enough to finally get into the chair.

'Do you ever administer the aptitude tests?' she asks. Strange question - so something did happen at her test. I don't have anything to do with the tests, but I'm going to make a point of finding out who administered hers. One advantage of working in the control room – I can access almost any information from there.

'No, I avoid Stiffs as much as possible.' Curiosity seems to overcome some of her nervousness.

'Why?'

'Do you ask me that because you think I'll actually answer?' The habit of privacy is life-long and hard to break. Besides, I haven't worked out how to behave around her yet. Every time I see her my feeling for her get that bit stronger, and that bit more confusing. I want to get out of Dauntless and all that it's becoming, but she's trying with all her strength to get in. I don't want to commit myself to something and then face the pain of losing it – losing her. I don't want to compromise her choices, and wonder when I became so sure of myself that I think that my decisions would affect her in the slightest. Most of all I know I can't put her in any danger, and while I want to keep her close, perhaps remaining distant from the guy who will soon become a Faction deserter is safer path for her.

'Why do you say vague things if you don't want to be asked about them?' I smile inwardly. Sometimes she almost visibly recoils from me as though I terrify her, and then she gives up cheek to me. I might scare her, but she's not going to let me beat her down. Good girl! I still don't answer her though, and at least a part of that is my own way of coping with stage two. Eric might get off on it, but I don't derive any pleasure from seeing people reduced to wreckage by their fears. I can't afford empathy in this room – no decent trainer can – and keeping my distance is a way of remaining functional.

I lift the syringe prepared earlier, and brush her hair away from the injection site on her neck. Her hair is soft, like a silk ribbon, and I linger a little too long, letting my fingers brush the soft skin of her neck. Immediately her tension returns, and I feel like a creep, trying to surreptitiously touch someone who clearly finds me repellent.

I explain how the serum works, and inject it slowly into her neck. I want to tell her that I don't want her to be frightened. That's what stage two is about. I want to tell her that I'm trying to get her to the place where her fears can't control or limit her. I want to tell her that it's about freedom. In the end all I can do before the simulation begins is hold her face between my hands and whisper to her as gently as I can.

'Be brave, Tris. The first time is always the hardest.' Her eyes hold mine for a moment, and then she goes under.

I turn to the computer screen and connect the wires that will allow me to see what she's experiencing. I watch as the anxiety becomes panic, as the black birds peck and claw at her. Then I don't need to see the screen to understand her fear as she screams. I turn to look at her. Her back is arched and stiff, her fingers bone white as they grip the arms of the chair. She screams again and her face contorts in pain as the tears begin to pour down her face.

I know that she's in no actual danger, that it's quite literally all in her mind, but I also know that the terror is real. I've experienced real threat, and I've experienced the terror of the simulation and it's deeply traumatic. Not for the first time today I want to put a stop to the horror that I'm subjecting the initiates to, but I know that I can't. But, unlike any of the other times, I want to gather her up, hold her close until the pain and the fear subside, and promise that I'll never let anything hurt her again.

Suddenly she relaxes. The change is so sudden I wonder if she's alright. I turn to the screen and I see her stretched out on the grass. The crows are still pecking and clawing at her, but she's no longer trying to fight them off. I think at first that she's given in – just surrendered to their relentless attack - and then I realise that she's attempting to relax. I can see the tension disappear from her limbs. I check her vitals at the bottom of the screen. Both her pulse and her respiration rate are steadily declining towards normal. I can't believe it – it's too soon. It's almost as though she knew how to stop the simulation, but that's impossible. She couldn't possibly even be aware that it's not real. Unless of course, she did. Unless she's Divergent.

Immediately I push the thought out of my mind. It's incredibly rare – so rare that most people think it's a myth. I look at the screen again. Her vitals are almost normal. My eyes flick to the clock – two minutes fifty. Wow. I'm definitely going to check her aptitude result.

Suddenly she's out of the simulation. The clock stops at three minutes. Immediately her arms begin to flail, fending of the birds that are still there in her mind. She becomes aware of her surroundings and curls into a ball, hugging her knees moaning softly. I reach out to her and she recoils violently.

'Don't touch me.' I can't help feeling hurt – rejected. I want to comfort her but I'm not exactly experienced at dealing with distressed females. I gently push her hair back from her face.

'Tris.' She doesn't respond. 'Tris, I'm going to take you back to the dorms, okay?'

'No!' I can see the panic building again. Panic this time about being weak in front of the others, and I remember that she's just witnessed the strongest of them stabbed in the eye b1y a fellow initiate. She must be terrified to draw attention to herself. If Edward couldn't beat them what chance would she have, and they'd already singled her out for special treatment before now.

I pull her out of the chair and propel her towards the door, and we head back to the dorms. She's silent, seemingly lost in her own thoughts and I don't know how to bridge the silence – or even know if I should. When we're nearly there she pulls away from me again.

'Why did you do that to me? What was the point of that, huh?' The accusation hurts, but I get it. 'I wasn't aware that when I chose Dauntless I was signing up for weeks of torture!'

'Did you think overcoming cowardice would be easy?' I try to remain clam, but it just makes her angry. I don't say anything, just let her vent. Suddenly the fight goes out of her and she begins to cry. She seems totally drained.

'I want to go home,' she says. She seems totally drained by her experience, and I don't have any comfort to offer her, but maybe I can give her a reason.

'Learning to think in the midst of fear is a lesson that everyone, even your Stiff family, needs to learn. That's what we're trying to teach you. If you can't learn it, you'll need to get the hell out of here because we won't want you.' I hate myself for coming down hard on her, but I know that when I provoke her that she fights back. And I need her to be a fighter. Her eyes are shiny with new tears.

'I'm trying. But I failed. I'm failing.' Her lip trembles, and I realise she has no idea what she's achieved – how could she have.

'How long do you think you spent in that hallucination, Tris?' I ask.

'I don't know – a half hour?'

'Three minutes. You got out three times faster than the other the initiates. Whatever you are' - Divergent? – 'you're not a failure.'

'Three minutes.' A watery smile steals its way onto her lips, and I can't help but smile back.

'Tomorrow you'll be better at this, you'll see.' I want to tuck a stray lock of hair behind her ear, but settle for guiding her again towards the dormitory. In their own way the fear simulations are physically demanding; the aftermath of the adrenalin rush is exhausting, and she needs to rest. She'd have more of the same to face in the coming days.

'Tomorrow?' she asks. I don't answer, just try to gently steer her. 'What was your first hallucination?' She steals a glance at me.

'It's not so much a "what" as a "who." It's not important.'

'And are you over that fear now?'

'Not yet.' Even thinking about it starts to make my palms sweat, and I hate that he still has that power over me. 'I may never be.' I'm conscious that I still have two more initiates sitting waiting in the corridor, but with her record breaking time I've got a few minutes to spare before anyone really misses me. I lean against the wall and look at her. Even with her red, puffy eyes, she's still lovely to me.

'So they don't go away?' she asks. I'm not sure if she's interested in me, or if she's taking in information that will help her through initiation. Either way, she's getting over the shock of her first simulation, and I'm glad to see the colour returning to her cheeks.

'Sometimes they do. And sometimes new fears replace them' I realise this is my chance to say what I wanted to say before she went under. That I have a chance to help her prepare for tomorrow.

'But becoming fearless isn't the point. Learning how to control your fear, how to be free from it – that's the point.' She takes the information in.

'Anyway,' I continue, 'your fears are rarely what they appear – I mean, are you really afraid of crows?' I smile at her, trying to lighten the conversation a bit. 'I mean, when you see one, do you run away screaming?'

'No I guess not.' She moves closer and leans against the wall beside me. She leans her head to one side and all I can think is how cute she is. It's all the more entrancing that she has absolutely no idea. She regards me carefully, and I hope my face isn't becoming as flushed as it feels.

'So what am I really afraid of?' Her eyes are so different from the fear filled orbs of a few minutes ago, and she looks at me with total trust.

'I don't know – only you can know.' She takes it in and nods slowly.

'I didn't know becoming Dauntless would be this difficult.' I am surprised at her openness – although I always find it surprising in others. Not everyone is as reticent as I am.

Suddenly the loneliness of the past few years is just too much. There are so many questions, fears, anxieties in my mind, and I've kept it to myself for far too long. I have friends here, but I've never shared any of my concerns with them. The need to trust someone becomes overwhelming, and I find myself openly criticising the faction leadership, and their policy changes. This is dangerous talk, but something about her, something about this tiny girl, makes me feel safe. I don't know why, but I trust Tris.

She listens, and asks a few questions, but seems to accept what I say as truth. That in itself is a surprise. This is a Stiff who chose to turn her back on her faction. They always say the transfers are more zealous – I mean look at Eric – and her acceptance of her new faction's shortcomings means that she was more conflicted about her choice that I realised, or she is smart enough to already be asking her own questions. Either way, it doesn't cross my mind that she'll betray this confidence.

She just takes a deep breath, tries to fix her hair and prepares to enter the dorm. 'Do I look like I've been crying?'

I lean towards her, looking at her swollen eyes and pale complexion, with two spots of rising colour on her cheeks. She looks completely done in but all I can think is how much I want to kiss her. I resist the temptation to say you look adorable, and settle for telling her seriously 'No, Tris. You look as tough as nails.'

She offers a smile and turns away into the dormitory, and I lean against the wall again, savouring the sensation of her nearness. With real reluctance I walk back to the simulation room, and call Drew. My hearts not in it though. All I can think of is her exquisite face just inches from mine. I swear, next time I get that close to her, I'm definitely going to kiss her.