Another fic that I felt the need to churn out. Probably a short, two or three chapter thing. More Peter because he's so desperately unloved in this fandom. Enjoy!
"What's the lowest number anyone's gotten?"
Peter snapped out of his trance at the question. He had been sidetracked contemplating his own fear landscape, wondering what he could possibly face. Certainly not something as weak as spiders or humiliation, as this so-called "Dauntless" trainer feared. How could someone be touted as the bravest of the brave, and yet be deterred at something as simple as spiders?
But the question brought him zeroing back in on reality, focusing his unnaturally fast-paced thoughts on the scene at hand.
He had a theory about the lowest number, one he had not told anyone, not even Drew. His eyes slipped over to his left, a quick flash of a glance at the man named Four. His face was uniformly expressionless.
"In recent years, four."
He smirked, stealing another glance at Four. So he had been right. He basked in his own cleverness for a brief, satisfying moment.
So four was the number to beat.
For a brief moment, he thought back to the fears he had experienced via injection. None had been the same, but they had left him with the same feeling: His stomach tight, sweat across his forehead, weakness in his bones. He hated that feeling. He could only hope that in his fearscape things would be different, that awareness would come with understanding.
His eyes floated around the room on their own accord, taking in the faces of his fellow initiates. Most looked tense, focused, pondering their futures. Others looked sick; That idiot Will looked like he was about to spew his lunch onto the carpet.
The only one who had any variation in her expression was Tris. She seemed confident, almost smug about the whole thing. Like she knew something the others didn't, as if she was better than them.
Peter's hands tightened into fists at his side. She infuriated him, more than any other initiate had. He had mildly disliked her at the beginning, when she had been sniveling and weak and defenseless. But after he had done away with Edward and she had done so well in the simulations, his annoyance had heightened into full-blown hatred.
Peter forced himself to look away from that girl, turning his attentions back to the trainer.
"-of this exercise, though, each of you will only face one of my fears, to get the sense for how the simulation works."
One of her fears. Peter snorted. God forbid he had to come face to face with spiders. Really, this would be too easy.
She began to partition out fears at random. He watched as Lauren's finger hovered in his direction. "You. Public humiliation."
Peter smirked. He had perhaps gotten the tamest fear of the lot. His smile widened more when he saw that Tris had gotten kidnapping. Good. The little bitch deserved it.
He was number five, and he watched the people before him, thinking privately that they looked quite ridiculous, trapped in their own little worlds that no one but them could see. All he could glimpse was their reactions, and he had to admit that it was quite hysterical to see someone like Will, supposedly so rational, running around the room and letting out strangled screams as he attempted to swat away fake spiders.
While waiting, Peter prepped himself for his own simulation. It was all mental, after all. The secret was keeping a cool head, not sabotaging yourself. Peter's thoughts were often fast-paced and scattered, abnormally so, but he felt like he had a good sense of control over his own mind. He wouldn't fail. No, he couldn't fail.
Not if he wanted his dream. Not if he wanted to be a leader in training, to one day eventually run the whole Dauntless faction.
He vaguely heard someone call his name, but he was so focused on his fantasies of the future that it took the trainer three tries to finally get his whole attention. When he finally looked up, everyone in the waiting room was staring at him. He tried to ignore them as he walked stiffly toward the door. Good practice for what he was about to face.
The trainer named Lauren strode toward him, holding a needle as long as his neck. Peter did not flinch as she jabbed it into his vein - over the years, he had grown used to pain.
As the pain faded, so did the room. Peter closed his eyes to stop himself from feeling nauseous at the sudden change in scenery, and when he opened them he found himself in an entirely different place.
He recognized it, though. After the countless days he had been in the Dauntless compound, it had become comfortingly familiar to him. The initiates dormitory looked like it always did, maybe a little tidier than usual.
He felt something strange against his skin, not the cotton t-shirt he had been wearing just moments before. He looked down to see that he was clutching a towel around his waist. He felt the top of his head, and water dripped down his fingers and neck.
He was standing in the doorway, and he distantly heard the door slam shut behind him. He heard a voice, and he looked up from his towel to see a group of initiates standing in the corner, laughing at something. Tris, Christina, Will, and a couple others looked up at him in surprise. The surprise quickly changed to snickering.
Peter looked down again. He had always taken pride in his body - the well defined muscles, the slim figure and tall build. But something had changed. The muscles were gone. He was shorter than he had been at twelve.
He could feel his face getting hot. Just a simulation, Peter. Get it together. He strode toward his bunk, ignoring the whispers and eyes that followed him.
Then it hit him like a ton of bricks.
This wasn't just any kind of humiliation. He was reliving what he had done to Beatrice Prior.
The realization made his stomach turn inside of him, but he didn't stop his feet as they carried him closer to the bunk. Once there, he began to rifle quickly through his draws, searching for a shirt and pants. Maybe if he could do it fast enough, maybe-
He turned around, and Beatrice Prior stood in front of him, a malicious smirk lighting her face.
Even she was taller than him now. He had to look up to meet her eyes, which seemed colder than normal. An air of cruelty that she had not possessed before seemed to radiate from within her. He was no stranger to that manic look in her eyes though. He had seen it countless times in the mirror, staring back at him.
He immediately tried to dodge her, but an arm came up and slammed between him and his path. A nauseating sense of deja vu filled his head, and he shrank away.
"You're so small, Peter," Tris said with a sickly sweet air of gentleness. Her smile had transformed into a snarl.
"I wonder if all of him is small." Will's harsh voice floated from behind him, but he could not move his eyes away from Tris.
Christina gave a snort. "I'm sure it is. Just look at the poor thing."
He made an attempt to duck under Tris' arm, and for a brief moment he thought he had succeeded.
But then a hand came up, grabbing him from behind, jerking the towel away. Cold air rushed toward him, and he knew that he was completely naked in front of the entire group of initiates.
He stood, frozen, paralyzed, unable to do anything even if he wanted to. But seeing that cruelty in Tris' eyes, knowing that it would never have been there in reality, brought him back to his senses.
He felt foolish, standing there, not really naked, in front of a group of a fake people fabricated by his mind.
"A simulation," he murmured to himself, watching Tris drop the towel to the floor, her eyes raking over his fake body.
He thought of what Tris had done when he had committed this same embarrassment to her. She had run away, clutching her clothes to her naked body. At the time, he thought she had been weak, to flee. But now he understood.
An emotion he had never experienced flooded through him, so new that he at first didn't even recognize it. Shame.
Shame at what he had done.
"I..." he had to get out of this simulation, but he wasn't sure how. Taking a gulp of air, he looked this fake Beatrice Prior into her eyes. "I'm sorry."
His breathing slowed, he dropped the clothes he was clutching over himself to the floor. He could feel his heart rate lowering in his chest.
The room changed back to normal. He was clothed again, his body back to its regular height and build.
The girl, Lauren, marched toward him, flicking the light switch on.
"So, you're afraid of humiliation too, I guess," she said as she coaxed him back through the door.
Peter said nothing, only giving her a cold stare.
Lauren didn't catch on, mistaking his silence for fear. She smiled in a comforting manner. "It may not seem like an advantage now, but knowing one more fear will help you when you get to face your own fearscape."
"Sure," Peter muttered, turning away from her and practically running out the door. He refused to look at any initiates, and most especially Beatrice Prior. To think that they had seen him like that, so weak and foolish, was almost as humiliating as the simulation he had been forced to go through.
He managed to stagger a few steps out the door before landing heavily against the wall, sliding down to the cold floor. His head was dripping with sweat, his breathing too fast. He closed his mouth and took a few sharp breaths from his nose.
"It was just a simulation, Peter," he whispered to himself, hands clenching and unclenching against the material of his jeans.
But some annoying, weak voice in the back of his head told him the obvious. It wasn't for Tris, though, was it? it said to him, almost smug.
And there was that feeling again.
He swallowed wetly, standing up and taking a few deep breathes. He did not want to go back to the dorm after that. Instead, he tracked down a secluded hallway and prostrated himself face down on the dirty floor, feeling the cool cement against his tired eyes.
If Dauntless initiation wasn't the death of him, then his goddamn feelings might be.
Feedback is greatly appreciated.