Chapter 1
A/N: This story is almost completely canon as it takes place one year before Tris' initiation, the only difference is initiation begins at age 18 not 16. Eric's character is based off Jai Courtney's representation and if he seems in any way OOC I can assure you it is all due to character development. Please enjoy and review.
A twisted smile played on her lips, it proved a firm prison for the bubble of laughter that begged to tear through her throat and fill the empty air. Unbearable heat had exploded in to jets of calm that washed over her and Mila was brought once more in to delicious delirium.
She gazed down at her wrists and frowned, these bindings were doing her nails no good at all. They were much too long, all it would take was a simple nibble and they would be fine again. It was unreasonable to say the least, that she should be denied the right to fix such a problem. These people were mad.
It wasn't the infirmary, father would never dare open her up to such ridicule. This was a far more private institute, somewhere to heal in peace. Mila savoured this sense of Zen, for soon it would be gone, and so would the safety net.
Everything began with the sickness, a churning sensation in the pit of her stomach that rendered the world in to a black and white void. A nightmare she yearned for, this was worse, this was…empty.
Her father's face was a myriad of deepened lines and sallow skin. Each step towards her was slow, dispassionate; it carried the weight of his indifference.
"Where?" he drawled, slumping in to the chair by her bed.
"By the dining hall."
He inhaled sharply, a huff of impatience. Be gone child, she saw his thoughts amplified, imprinted on his very person.
"Did anyone see?"
She kept her unusually wide gaze trained on him, never blinking. Mila was aware how this unnerved him, and how her father hated to be unnerved, it soon turned to resentment, which then turned to anger. Good. Let him fester.
"No. They attacked when I was least expecting. I was powerless to stop it," she breathed softly and smiled again. It was almost feral, purposely so, the canines protruded ever so slightly, small blunted fangs.
His watery stare slid over her weakened form, mouth curling in a sickened grimace.
"I don't want you going anywhere alone."
"Really?" she said, eyes flashing. "You don't want that?"
"From now on you'll be assigned an escort," he leaned in and fixed her with a firm look, no longer the disapproving parent but a powerful figure. The respected and fearless Dauntless Leader. "I don't want this happening again."
"We can't have anything tarnishing our reputation, can we father?"
"All I want is for you to be safe," he assured, though the words lacked any semblance of conviction.
Mila rotated her wrists slowly beneath the leather straps.
"I'd like to go now please."
Her words fell on deaf ears as he rose from his chair and addressed the nurse who had been assigned to her case. It was always the same woman, a large, bustling lady with a reddened face and keen ears, always straining to catch a new scandal. Janice? Janie? Mila found she really didn't care.
"I will send someone to collect her later," he told the nurse, "Make sure she eats."
Jane…Jackie? Snorted and looked over at Mila who grinned back and snapped her teeth.
"Some'ow I don't think that'll be a problem sir," she grumbled.
In long, striding steps he was gone, the nurse turned to her with wool clad arms crossed over her chest. The thick black material still struggled to contain her heaving bosom.
"Alright freak, I don't want any trouble from you or the dose'll be doubled, y'hear?" she sneered.
Mila was unable to move more than a couple of inches, the hold was far too tight. She remained still for a moment, meeting the woman's scornful gaze with a blank look.
Then she lurched forward violently beneath the unyielding straps, bore her pearly white teeth, and hissed.
In an alternate era, it might have been referred to as a 'Gentleman's Club'.
But despite the sweet smoke that permeated the shadows and the array of long limbs reclined around the room, this was not the roaring 20's nor did men sit in suits with cigars and discuss their latest business ventures.
This was The Pit, or rather a subsection of it, at a time when most of the Dauntless had retired to bed. These men sat in plush chairs, gathered in a circular formation as plumes of mist filtered from the end of a wilting cigarette.
Eric drummed his fingers along the black leather surface and smiled languidly at Max's in depth description of stage 2.
"Giant Tulips? You're serious?" he smirked and exhaled a fresh gust of grey.
"I shit you not," Max chuckled, "he was screaming so loud I thought I was going to pop a hernia."
Eric shook his head, eyes rolling as a glass of brandy stopped at his lips.
"That's what happens when you let hippies in to Dauntless, I don't know how you do it."
"It wasn't exactly my decision…?"
"No," Eric set the drink down firmly. "Training, teaching," he waved his hand lazily, "Trying to stop the transfers from shooting themselves in the face."
Max grinned, "Now that was only once, and it's actually pretty cool, like doing it yourself again," he scrutinized the younger man for a moment. "Man you should try it!"
"Me?" Eric arched a brow, "No."
"Why not?"
"They're choosing a new leader this year, that's what I have my eye on. Not babysitting initiates."
"You really think they'll pick you?" Max asked and was fixed with a reproachful glare. "No listen, I mean I had to wait 8 years to even be considered…,"
A new voice chipped in as a younger boy with dark dreads framing his face and a thick metal bar protruding through the stem of his nostrils slapped them both on the back and grabbed Max in a chokehold.
"Don't listen to him Eric," he wheezed as he struggled to keep the leader in a firm grip, "he's just jealous cuz he ranked fourth in his initiation."
"Third actually," Max sneered, rubbing his neck irritably. "And at least I can say I passed initiation, just wait till next year Ren. I can't wait to see your skinny ass getting thrown out with the Factionless."
Ren who had yet to undergo his own Aptitude Test, gasped mockingly and fell back in to a free chair, "I'm telling mum you said that."
"Fine," Max shrugged, "I'm a leader now, I could just have you both kicked out."
"You're such a dick," Ren laughed.
"Strike one," his brother warned and was met with resentful grumble.
Eric stretched indulgently and rose from the seat, Ren's surprised voice interrupted him as he turned to leave.
"Hey, where you going?"
"Hank wanted to see me."
"What the hell could he want now?" Max frowned and glanced at his watch.
Eric threw the cig to the ground, crushing it beneath his boot and shrugged.
"Guess I'm going to find out."
Hank was in the process of massaging rough circles in to his temples when a firm knock sounded at the door that evening.
"Come in."
His wiry form was taut with tension as a familiar figure walked in and stood resolutely at the entrance. There existed the dimmest of lights within the small space, but he'd known who to expect and though the visit instilled wariness within him, Hank was desperate.
"Eric, please take a seat."
A simple black desk kept them a fair distance apart, it was tall, and assisted the older leader as he looked down at the man opposite with what he hoped was a scrutinizing stare.
Eric met his gaze calmly, arching a brow in question when moments passed and still not a word passed between them. Somehow he finally seemed satisfied, leaning back in his chair to speak.
"I have a task for you."
A draw beneath the table was pulled open; his attention was drawn to the sheet of paper sliding along the surface. Eric could only stare at it blankly as he opened it up see what looked like a school grid, not unlike the ones he'd had back at Erudite.
"My daughter's lesson schedule," Hank explained, "You'll find there, subjects, times and any extracurricular activities in between."
"…And…why exactly is it you want me to have this…?"
"My daughter's a very special girl Eric; it won't be long before she begins her own initiation," Hank walked over to a crystal cabinet and pulled out a glass, he then proceed to fill it to the brim with colourless liquid. "Unfortunately being who she is, it seems to have attracted the wrong attention and I can't guarantee she will even make it that far."
Eric watched as the weary leader threw back his head and downed the swirling substance in a fluid motion.
"So your daughter's being bullied?" Eric asked with a daring hint of derision.
"It would seem that way yes, by who, I'm afraid, remains a mystery."
"What exactly has this got to do with me?"
Hank had been in the middle of refilling his drink when the stream stopped, bottle pausing in mid-air. He fixed the younger man with a strict azure stare.
"I need someone who can keep her safe. We have eyes in Dauntless, so the chances of an attack are slim, but I worry what will happen when she's no longer in the compound."
Eric regarded the man with unabashed shock; this certainly hadn't been what he'd expected. In fact it came to him as a surprise that Hank even had a kid. Was this common knowledge? How had he never heard of this before?
"So you want me to be her what? Personal bodyguard?"
"Essentially, yes."
An uncomfortable pause existed in which Eric questioned the tenacity of the man before him and whether it was worth the risk of calling him out. Hank's own flesh and blood was incapable of the most basic self-defence? What the hell did he expect when it came to initiation?
He could not contain his ire however, as he looked down at the flimsy paper.
8.00am: Breakfast
8.45am: Carpool
9.00: Registration…
"I don't have the time to-"
"You're going up for leadership this year, am I correct?"
Eric's gaze travelled dangerously slow to that of the man before him, fingers whitening against the sheet.
"Yes," he answered, "I am."
"I can't promise anything right now, but I'm sure you can imagine it would work…heavily in your favour should you decide to agree."
Eric wanted nothing more than to snap his fucking neck, and his spoilt little brat too, but it was evident he had no choice in the matter.
"How long will this go on? Until the culprits are found?"
Hank's eyed widened for a moment, it was only for a split second, but Eric honed in on it like a hawk.
"Oh-well-no-it," he sighed, "I'm afraid it won't be that simple. I'm going to need you stay with her until the ceremony."
"A year?" Eric spat.
"11 months to be exact," Hank replied shakily.
He exhaled singularly through his nose, 11 months. It was all that stood between him and leadership. Then he would not have to answer to anybody, especially this simpering fool.
He was halfway to the door when Hank spoke again.
"Mila is currently in our private healing quarters. Janet will escort you there."
"Why is she-"
"It's not your concern," Hank waved his hand non-committedly, "just get her to her dorms safely."
Janet, it appeared, was a short, rotund oaf of a woman who plodded through the Dauntless corridors with single minded determination. They ascended in to the leader's quarters, a series of archways and subsections, evidently the young girl had a palace of her own already. It was no wonder she was a target.
"Hope you know what ya in for," Janet cackled over her shoulder. "You've certainly got your hands full with this one, that's for sure."
Eric slowed his pace and arched a brow before replying amiably.
"Can't say I'm surprised he's locked her away all this time if she inherited her father's face," he smirked.
Janet grimaced and rifled in her pockets for a rusty set of keys.
"I wish," she muttered, "Stark, raving mad this one is."
Her eyes met his, wide and underlined with dark, purplish circles.
"Absolutely nuts."
She pushed open a heavy steel door, plump face reddening with the effort. The faux infirmary was immediately thrown in to an artificial glow that highlighted the cold, sterile walls and cast sickly shadows on the sleeping figure within.
Eric stiffened; it was not the natural, languid form of a girl cocooned in blankets atop a soft mattress.
This was entrapment.
Mila's chest rose and fell in deep, robotic motions as black leather straps covered the breadth of her wrists, ankles and torso. A floor length dress had bunched up from an earlier struggle, to reveal the freckled brown skin of her thighs; it was such a startling contrast to her weed of a father.
His sharp grey gaze narrowed as he spotted the glimpse of white bandaging beneath the heavy material. The outfit ran all the way up to her chin, swarthy dark silk encasing her arms, but the pale gauze protruded out past her wrists.
Her face was not all sharp regal angles, the stubborn chin and hollowed cheeks he had been expecting. Everything about her from the generous curve of her thighs to the line of her jaw was inherently gentle. The sight should have incensed him, frightened even. It should have filled him with a deep rooted disgust and a vow never to return. This was clearly no ordinary case, and she most certainly was no average brat. Leadership be damned, he should have turned around, and ran.
But fuck if this creature wasn't sensational.
The drug induced haze seemed to dissipate the moment the dumpy nurse lay one finger on her.
Mila's eyes snapped open, and he was struck then with the final oddity, her right eye stared up, blue and bright like a circular sky and beside it her left eye gazed on in a stark contrast of brown. Her crazed stare followed the older woman's movements intently.
Suddenly her pale pink lips ascended like a curved blade, and she was grinning oh so wide, a convoluted grin upon her dark freckled face.
"Jaaaaanet," she sing-songed lowly, a creepy, provocative whisper. "I dreamed of you."
The nurse inhaled deeply and tugged Mila's dress down to a respectable level, the younger girl's expression never wavered. Janet eventually caught her eye, and pointed a thick, stubby finger in her face.
"Shut it freak, that dose had you out cold and you know it. I don't want to hear any more of your shit!"
Mila stared in wonder at Janet's hand, a wet tongue hung lazily on her bottom lip as she followed it up the nurse's arm and back to her face. The smile returned, and her eyes glinted with malice.
"But Janet it felt so real," she pouted, "You were standing right there. Just as you are now. Only…you were different. Your body, it was deathly blue. And all chopped up, severed chunky pieces that wept. But it's okay," Mila nodded dreamily.
"You were stitched together again, like a big ragdoll," she threw back her head and laughed, loud singular laughs that reverberated along the walls.
"HA! HA! HA!"
Janet bristled with anger, though her face had taken on a sickly pallor as she regarded the crazed girl.
"THAT'S ENOUGH FROM YOU!" she screeched. "I'LL TELL YOUR FATHER ABOUT THIS YOU WEIRD LITTLE-" she spluttered, hands grappling at the air. "PSYCHOBITCH!"
Mila's giggles halted instantly. She regarded the woman with a look very much akin to fear and fell back against the hard platform of her makeshift bed.
It seemed to appease her nurse, and Janet approached carefully to loosen the straps.
Suddenly there was a strange sound, a wheezed inhale followed by a high pitched exhale. To anyone else it would have been nothing but an irritating sound. But to Janet it brought to her, the forlorn memories of her fear simulations, she saw once more the sight of an abandoned carnival and in it a lone clown.
Mila continued to breath in and out a light honking noise like that of a clown's nose, hoh-haw, hoh-haw, hoh-haw.
"STOP!" the nurse roared.
Hoh-haw, hoh-haw hoh-haw, hoh-haw.
"THAT'S IT!"
Janet threw down the steel buckles of the bed's restraints and fled the room, sausage fingers clapped tightly over her ears.
Mila did not stop until the sound of steel on steel echoed around the room as the door was slammed resolutely.
It was this sudden impact, the imitation of emptiness that made her realize she was not alone at all. And that just wouldn't do.
She turned her head; dark corkscrew curls fell haphazardly over her face as Mila caught sight of an unfamiliar figure.
"Who are you?"