To Rid the Disease

The Greek physician Hippocrates once wrote: "For extreme diseases, extreme methods of cure are most suitable."

I totally ship Eric and Christina. I'm trying to write another much longer story as we speak, but since my muse is only interested in picturing Eric in all possible positions known in the Kama Sutra and thus clogging my brains, I decided to write this instead to regain control over my creativity while appeasing my muse (that horny little devil).

The first chapter is written in Christina's POV and it is rated T due to her fight against Molly and Eric hanging her over the Chasm like a cloth on washing day. No smut yet so it's safe to read.

Another thing, being Dutch I'm used to the British spelling (i.e. organising instead of organizing etc.) but when using American slang I'll use the proper spelling for those phrases.

I dedicate this story to Acromania, the one who has convinced me to write more while being my inspiration and muse as well (go read her stories after mine), and to DarDarBinx101 who has become a true friend as well. Her original work is just amazing! (Shame on you if you haven't read their stories yet)

Girls, thank you for the friendships, and your love and endless support. You both are truly inspirational, wonderful human beings.

Now, enjoy, and review if you want - or not. ;-)

Christina

"Next fight: Molly and Christina!" Eric announced in a booming voice that echoed through the training centre. Christina's heart fluttered wildly in her chest as she cracked her knuckles while making her way to the arena. It was the beginning of the second week of initiation, of her new life in Dauntless, and she didn't know whether she was afraid or just bloody nervous as she eyed her opponent warily before her eyes shot to the side and glanced at Eric.
He stared at her impassively and something twisted inside her stomach in a sickening motion when his stormy grey eyes held her gaze for a seemingly endless moment before he turned his attention to Molly.
Christina took a deep breath and nervously tucked her chin-length hair behind her ears. She had always known that she would transfer to Dauntless, and the evening before Choosing Day she had decided to cut off her hair. And by God, did she ever regret that stupid decision! Her short hair was driving her crazy!
Okay, focus, Chris, she chastised herself. You've got other things to worry about now.
Molly aka The Tank.
The girl was built like one, and was about as merciful as one. But a tank was a thousand times prettier than her. She was tall, broad-shouldered, and ugly as fuck, and out for blood. She was also a former Candor, and one of Peter's brainless minions, and Christina hated her with a passion. She wasn't weak, but Molly had the advantage of more weight and length. But I'm faster, Christina thought as she cracked another knuckle, her eyes trained on Four as he supported Will from the waist, leading him out of the training centre, just as she entered the area across from Molly. She smirked when she saw how nervous the other girl was, but she wasn't foolish enough to become cocky.

"Go, for fuck sake!" Eric snapped angrily, and immediately the girls took their fighting stance and began shuffling in a circle around each other. No one concedes, he had said during the fight between Will and Al, and the fight had only ended after Al had knocked out Will. Molly tried a punch, and Christina ducked and kicked her hard in her side. Molly gasped and gritted her teeth like she was about to growl like a mad dog. She smirked at Christina, and without warning, launched herself, fists first, at Christina's midsection. She hit her hard, knocking her down, but Christina turned her body just in time as the other girl tried to pin her to the ground. Molly tried to adjust and twist her upper-body, but Christina kicked her in the face with both feet before she rolled backwards and landed perfectly like a cat on her feet. She knew she had to try and punch the other girl before she was able to rise if she wanted a fair chance of winning this fight by points, so she stepped closer just as Molly rose to her knees, her height and bulk slowing her down, and Christina's fists hit her jaw, her nose, her mouth rapidly. Thick, dark blood began running down Molly's face and splattered on the thin mat next to her feet.

Their eyes met for just a second and something made Christina hesitate. Molly grabbed the opportunity with both hands and got back on her feet. She rushed towards Christina, dodged her next punch, and forced her elbow down in her face. Pain exploded in her left cheekbone, dazing her for a split second. The next moment Molly punched her in the ribs, and Christina screamed when she felt something cracked, leaving her breathless – literally. She couldn't breathe, her lungs refused to expand and let in air. Another punch hit her in the chest, close to her heart, and her vision went black at the edges. She blinked and lurched to the side as he heart missed a beat – and then another. She slammed against the mat, and somehow she managed to cry out again as air rushed into her lungs again. But breathing was now so painful that she just wished for it to stop again. Molly appeared in front of her. She grabbed Christina's hair and punched her in the face. More in a reflex than consciously aiming, she punched Molly against the side of her head, knocking her off-balance. She crawled away from Molly, holding out her bloodied and bruised hand. "Stop! I'm... I'm done," she gasped.
"You're done?" she suddenly hear Eric saying, closer than he had been when the fight had started. She looked up, still not able to draw breath normally, and found him standing in front of her, his face an unreadable cold mask. "Okay." He reached out with his hand, and she eyed him warily. "Give me your hand."
His voice was quiet, his speech articulate as usual.
She laid her hand in his, and he carefully pulled her up. "Thank you," she panted, wincing as another sharp pain jabbed her sides.
"Alright, everyone take a break!" Eric announced before he placed a hand on the small of her back and ushered her to the benches near the walls next to the exit.

He kneeled in front of her and gently grabbed her chin to examine her facial wounds. The touch of his calloused fingertips gently trailing over her skin made her shiver, but the fact that he was this close to her, allowing her to smell his masculine scent that reminded her of musk and leather with a hint of tobacco, left her reeling and feeling mighty intimidated. She felt so self-conscious that she wanted to push him away.
"You're okay?" He asked her in a soft voice that both warmed and warned her. She conceded – why wasn't he yelling at her?
She nodded hesitantly as she searched his face for any hidden motives behind his sudden kindness. "I'll live."
He smiled – actually smiled at her, and for a moment she thought she had died and gone to heaven. His smile made him look younger and emphasised his handsome face, and she shyly smiled back at him. He held her gaze as he moved, and the next moment she yelped and almost slapped him across the face when he touched her ribs on her right side.
"Let's check that out at the infirmary after the break, okay?" She closed her eyes, fighting against the tears, and nodded. "Okay. Put on your boots, grab your jacket and come with me." He rose to his feet and turned to the other initiates. "Alright, everybody, follow me."

With every step she took, Christina had difficulty breathing deeply, and the pain almost distracted her from the warm weight of Eric's large hand pressing against the small of her back as he led her, and the others behind them, towards the Chasm. She knew that on the other side of the small bridge there were stairs that led aboveground. God, she could really use some fresh air and the warmth of the sun right now after spending an entire week solely underground.
"You're still okay?" Eric asked her again.
"Yeah, I'm fine," she said, just as they set foot on the rusty narrow bridge over the Chasm.
Then suddenly everything was happening so fast that her brains couldn't process what Eric was doing. One moment his hand was on her back, the next she was hanging over the bridge, with her entire body dangling above the roaring river, his hand grabbing her left hand tightly while her other hand was clinging on the rusty rail for dear life.
"Grab the rail," Eric said evenly, "or don't." He let go of her hand and she frantically grabbed the rail while he sauntered to the other side of the bridge. "You have three options: hang there for five minutes and I'll forget your cowardice. Fall and die. Or give up." He looked down at her and the corners of his mouth twitched. "If you give up, you're out."

This is it, Christina thought as she fought against the pain and the tears and the sheer shock of his actions. So this is fear. All of her eighteen years she had known moments of fear, but only now did she realise that she had known nothing.
She looked at Eric, and saw something unrecognisable glimmering in the depths of his cold eyes, and suddenly it was if the entire world around them vanished as she tried to decipher what she was seeing in those grey orbs.
She could no longer feel the stabbing pain in her side – only the cold, rusty metal of the rail cutting in her hands - and she didn't see anything else but his face, his eyes, and that glimmer of… Hope?
Was it hope she saw in his eyes?
No… it was faith.

Wait, what?
Faith? In her? Eric, Satan himself, had faith in her?

As if he had heard her thoughts, he nodded surreptitiously. Fuck me, she thought, and from the depths of her soul she suddenly found the strength to hold on. Newly found determination made her firmly pressed her lips together and helped her to focus on her grip on the rail. With her body held perfectly still, she kept her attention solely on Eric and their eyes locked as he crossed his arms and leaned against the railing on the other side of the bridge. He appeared to be relaxed, but she could see the alertness in his eyes and the tension in his posture, and somehow she just knew that he would never let her fall to her death.

The roar of the river should have been deafening, but she barely noticed it while she stared and stared at Eric, her body still and relaxed, her breathing regular and calm. She didn't know how many minutes had already passed, but slowly and surely the rest of the world began to fade in again. Her hands stayed firm around the cold metal, but every now and then the stabbing pain in her side threatened to destroy her concentration. Eric broke eye-contact for one second to check his watch, and when he looked at her again there was a small proud smirk on his face and she knew she had almost made it.

"Come on, Christina," she suddenly heard someone shout – a female voice. Tris. Others began to root as well just when her arms began to shake. "You can do it! Come on!"
"Five minutes are up," Al almost spat at Eric, his voice surprisingly loud and brave, and she almost chuckled at his sudden fierceness.
Eric checked his own watch again. "Time!"
The bridge shook as someone rushed towards her, and the next moment Edward was kneeling in front of her, his strong hands pulling her up by her arms. Just as she safely slumped down on the bridge, Tris was at her side, wrapping her arms protectively around her trembling form. Still, Christina's eyes lifted to Eric, and he nodded at her with glistening eyes. "Stand up, initiate," he commanded, and she stumbled to her feet, supported by Edward's strong arm around her tiny waist while Tris held onto her hand. Eric stepped closer to her and his eyes roamed over her face.
"Dauntless never give up," he said firmly, not just to her but to everyone - although his eyes stayed on her. "We are the protectors of this city. Everyone in it, including your family and the ones you love, depend on us. We are the only ones standing between them and death. When you are facing an enemy during battle, you won't be able to concede - you will have to choose between life and death without any hesitation while being prepared to die. And that is what we're trying to teach you here. Am I clear?"

Christina was the only one to speak up. "It is now," she said in a strong voice with her head held high.
"Let's get you to the infirmary," Eric said. "The rest of you return to the training centre. The fights will continue tomorrow."
The last one leaving was Tris, her face ashen and contorted in anger and fear. Christina looked at her and nodded reassuringly. It was only when Tris disappeared into the Pit that Christina turned around to face Eric again. He gently laid his hand on her hip.
"You did well, as I expected you would, Chris."
She was too goddamn tired and evidently still in shock because she didn't feel anything when he used her name in a rather intimate way - she just nodded.

"You owe me," she winced as he led her into a hallway nearby.
"I owe you? What?"
"Blood and tears," she said through clenched teeth. To her surprise he began to laugh. "In your dreams, Smart Mouth."
"A girl can dream…" she muttered.

(To be continued)