Notes: This fits into my "Forgiveness" universe - this would be read as the earliest encounter. A prompt on tumblr asked for another scene from this verse, and another person asked for Eric/oc in a power outage. I had fun with this one! I love to hear from people (and I delight in chatting). You can find me over on tumblr under the username paradigmflaws. The link is on my homepage. Feel free to chat with me there!
The metal of the train is cool at my back and it is a blessed change from the rest of the city. Everything is so hot that it felt like even just stepping outside of the Dauntless compound burns. The air is hazy with heat and humidity, making the typical black clothing we wear an absolute misery.
If we are smarter, we might forego most of it. Or if we were braver.
Eric sets an example that the rest of us are - rightfully - too scared (or too smart?) not to follow. His shirt is sleeveless but he still wears the vest that is exclusive to our faction. They are an Erudite design, I had been told. There is lining that acted as armor over key places like joints and organs.
Right now, I didn't give a damn. It is hot and I want it gone.
Still, the metal wall of the train is a relief. I know the tracks we are on, I know that we will be going through the tunnel that had been created before the city had been walled off. It is a small passage, the train clearing it with barely inches to spare.
I look forward to the subterranean section eagerly. Dauntless' compound was cooler because it was encased in rock and partly below ground. I expect the tunnel to be the same.
It is only when we break into the darkness of the tunnel that I hazard a look in Eric's direction. The tattoos etched on the sides of his neck are a sharp contrast to his paler skin. The emergency lighting isn't bright, only barely illuminating our figures and there are still shadows. His tattoos blend into the darkness like something sinister. An icy chill creeps up my spine.
My eyes drop to my feet. I do not want to get caught looking at him.
The thoughts that I have are quickly discarded as the train shudders to a halt. It is abrupt enough that I slide along the floor. Eric, who was standing, staggers heavily and it is only when he reaches up to grab a railing that his footing is secure again.
Instinctively I look to him for an explanation. From the perturbed expression on his face, I know I won't be getting one.
"What happen-" I begin to ask, my heart rate slightly elevated but not pounding. Not yet. I am not worried yet.
The emergency lighting clicks off and we are plunged into darkness.
Now I will worry.
I cut off my question, leaning back against the wall of the compartment. For a moment, I don't breathe as my ears strain for any hints of movement. Are there factionless around? They had been more and more restive lately, have they done something to cause this to happen? How had they known, if that were so?
When Eric grunts I jump. He cannot see me, I console myself. He didn't know.
"Power outage," he explains tersely. "Something at Erudite."
Right. Power. Electricity. The train grid ran on it and apparently something had managed to wipe out whatever..the emergency lights ran on? I didn't know. I had never studied it. For a moment, I find that I am tempted to ask Eric - how could this have happened? And, how does he know?
He is not Dauntless born, though, and I assume that growing up in Erudite is enough to have exposed him to this. I exhale slowly, a quiet hiss in the darkness.
For a moment, I try to consider our options. "We can't get out of the train, can we."
It is not really a question. I know that the doors at the front and the back of the train carriage have long since been sealed shut. The doors that we enter and exit out of require space to open and it is not space that I think we have in this tunnel. The walls are too close.
Eric does not sound amused as he answers. "No. We have to wait."
Any optimism that I have is ruthlessly crushed at his answer. His voice was grim and I want to make myself as small as possible against the wall to try to avoid his frustrations. It is irrational of me. I know that he can't see me.
Still, the silence presses down uncomfortably. "This sucks," I volunteer carefully.
I do not want him to interpret it as a complaint. I have seen Eric react to individuals who have been too free with those before. But it is all that I can think of to try to ease the tension that I am feeling.
When I feel footsteps (and it is one of the most disconcerting sensations in my life. I do not hear Eric approach, I feel him as each step vibrates in my very bones) I cannot help the way that my eyes frantically sweep from side to side, trying to peer through the darkness. I do not move, wondering what he is doing.
There is a thud and I realize that he has decided to sit down. It is the quiet rasp that confuses me. I do not know what that sound is.
I feel a touch on my shoulder and I flinch back to the side.
Suddenly I understand. Eric had sat down, and he had slid his hand along the side of the train compartment. He was trying to figure out where I was.
As he had done so, I thoroughly expect the issue to end there. What I do not expect is for his hand - now with a better sense for where I am - to come back to my shoulder. My skin is bare for the most part and I cannot escape the texture of his palm, calloused and rough in places from his years of training.
I go stiff underneath his touch. In hindsight, it was not a smart idea. It makes it easier for his hand to curve around my opposite shoulder and pull me over. In a matter of seconds I find that I am sitting with my side pressed against him. His arm is a heavy weight over the back of my shoulders, his hand resting lightly on my upper forearm.
If it were light enough to see I know that I would be red. Heat floods my cheeks and my eyes drop to the ground out of instinct. It does not matter, because he cannot see me.
The sensation of Eric sighing beside me is disconcerting. It is odd, intimate, and it is a humanizing element for a man that I had been more than happy to view as the leader of Dauntless, removed from my daily life so thoroughly as to be completely inaccessible. I cannot maintain that distance now, though. His heat surrounds me. I feel his heart beating a slow and steady rhythm where he has me tucked against his side.
It is a degree of intimacy that I do not associate with Eric. It baffles me, and I am disconcerted.
He feels my tension as he settles himself more comfortably. I am pulled even closer in such a way that I feel that I am beginning to be draped over him.
Eric's voice is curt. "It's colder here. Do you want to be uncomfortable?"
All of the sudden I understand. We are dressed for the hot summer afternoon aboveground. Where we are now is easily fifteen degrees cooler. What might have been a few seconds of blissful relief could now be a few hours of exposure to temperatures we are not prepared for.
The gooseflesh rises on my arms as his hand runs lightly down the back of my upper arm. There is logic that I understand, and then there is this. The … the touching part of it.
That, I cannot explain.
I will not ask, either. I think Eric knows, because I feel his chest shake in what might be a silent laugh. Because it is dark and he cannot see me, I send a dark glare in the approximate location of his head. He is finding this amusing, and I am confused and anxious and I am not entertained at his humor.
Of course I discover his sense of humor now. "Oh, go to hell," I snap, unable to refrain. After all, I am Dauntless. "I'm going to be uncomfortable one way or another. Cold, or knowing that if I breathe a word of you actually being nice to someone."
His fingertips trace up my arm again. For a moment, it is just a touch. Then it is his hand that curls around my bicep in a firm grasp. The world spins dizzily as I find myself moved with an effortlessness that I find disconcerting. I am blind and reliant on touch to figure out what is happening but my awareness is reduced to the burning focus of his hands.
It takes me a moment to recalibrate.
Eric's hand has not left my bicep, although it is relaxed again. His other hand is now resting on my thigh. He had leaned over to gather them over an arm, pulling me up. My side is now flush against his chest. I can feel the closures of his vest.
I am on Eric's lap.
The revelation courses through me like electricity. Instinct goads me to try to scramble away but they are efforts he thwarts easily, even without his vision. I am hindered by the fact that I am surprised and he is not.
When I finally relax, feeling his thighs bracketing mine and his arm a scalding bar around my waist. His heartbeat has not increased at all.
"I can be nice," he murmurs, his words a warm caress against my ear.
I shiver - and it is not because I am cold. A new world is unfolding before my eyes, and I find myself fascinated by it, against my better instincts. But I am Dauntless. I am brave. I am not meant to be wise.
My head leans back against his shoulder. "I don't believe it."
He is determined to prove it to me. The point stands, though. No one else will ever believe me. Perhaps it is just as well.