Wake up! blares over the loudspeaker of his cell, it startles him into an upright sitting position. Eric presses the heels of his palms into his eyes, groaning as he shifts and places his feet flat on the cold concrete floor. Doug, a middle aged guard tasked with standing outside of his cell, is rapping his knuckles against the glass — as if he's trying to rouse a big cat at the zoo — he isn't even looking into the cell. He's just trying to annoy the prisoner. "You have a visitor." His voice filters into the cell via the doorknob-sized holes in the glass.

Eric looks up and there she is, with a triumphant look on her face, the corner of her mouth quirked in a smirk. Her hands are behind her back, as she stands at attention, teasing him. He gets off of his bunk and pops his joints. The second sliding door — reinforcement to keep him locked in — opens and she waltzes in with an air of confidence he's not used to seeing her with. "Good morning."

"Here to let me out, or what?" He asks her, despite knowing he's never getting out of there. He leans forward, placing his hands on the glass. She places a hand where his is on the glass and stares at it for a moment. He doesn't look at her with questioning in his eyes like she expects. He'll have to accept that she has some sort of weird fondness for him. Even if he can't understand how, he doesn't question it, not out loud. Whatever it takes to get out of prison, or so he'd say if asked.

She shakes her head, "Not today." She shrugs, but she looks apologetic. "But, I still have good news." She smiles, and it reaches her eyes. "You get to live." He rolls his eyes and she laughs. That makes him smile.

They've been doing this for a while, she's been visiting him for the past 5 months that he's been in there. He knows her favorite color is the deep purple/blue color of the sky at night, she's hates peas — funny considering she grew up in Abnegation— he knows she questions how she can be equally selfless, fearless, and intelligent. She's a Taurus, which makes sense in a lot of ways. He knows she still feels out of place, moreso now that the city is in disarray. She's mad at him for saving her. Why, he doesn't know. But he could see it those first few times she came to visit. She bites her lip when she's nervous, she smiles even when she's unhappy. She keeps cutting her hair shorter and shorter because she wants to see how long it will be before Four tells her to stop. It's currently the length of her pinky finger. Every time she visits, she's in Amity garb. Today it's a long muted red skirt, and a faded yellow t-shirt. Why? Because if she's going to talk to him, she needs to be dressed in happy clothes.

Her favorite food?

Cake.

He knows her a little bit too much. She's his best friend.

He's aware that she's coming from the fifth voting to determine whether or not he gets to live. He's grateful that she's fighting so hard for him, but he doesn't deserve it.

"Yay me." He snorts, looking down at his bare feet.

"Your hair is longer since the last time I saw you." She comments. They'd shaved his head before they put him in there, he remembers seeing how uncomfortable she was when they were doing it. They stripped him of his Dauntless clothes and put him in a white tank top and navy blue sweatpants, essentially giving him back to Erudite before putting him in jail. She'd seen how broken his mother was when they dragged him out of her home in account of his crimes. There is no denying that she loves very much. And Tris had realized then that there must be some sort of redeemable qualities in him. When she saw him hug his mom and kiss his sister's forehead, the toddler clinging to him as he was yanked away, something in Tris broke. He didn't even fight back. And that was the most unnerving part of the whole ordeal. He's accepted everything that's happened.

Tris still remembers turning back and seeing the looks on their faces as they stood in the apartment doorway watching him get dragged down the hallway.

She looks back over her shoulder, staring at Doug as the guard pretends he's not dissecting this whole entire moment.

Eric glances at the guard and then back at her, leaning his face closer to the glass, "And your hair's shorter." She snorts and nods her head. He watches her, his expression soft. "How was it?" He asks, referring to the council meeting.

"Jack and Johanna changed their votes. We're three and three." Tris tells him. Her blue eyes are cold and he accepts that that's all she will say to him about it. He can see the leader in her and he's acutely aware that he's basically factionless despite the color of his clothes. He feels self conscious but tries to hold onto the confidence he had when he was in her place.

"Why are you here?" He asks her quietly, so quietly she struggled to hear him. But he knows she did by the way she stares at him, wide eyed and shocked. He doesn't mean it with malice, she's his only visitor. But she should hate him, she should want him dead. But she doesn't and he doesn't understand. And as a former Nose, he's certain that if there was a logical reason for her to be there, he'd have figured it out already.

She stares at him for a long while, unsure of what to say to him. She'd started going there to just talk to him, to ask him why he'd done all of the things he'd done. And when she yelled at him and he just accepted it, she felt wrong. There was no satisfaction or relief. There was no gratification. All she saw was someone who'd lost everything he'd worked for. She saw someone who realized he'd made choices that most don't have to make or be held accountable for, and accepted it. It doesn't feel right to kick him when he's down. And she's not naive to the fact that he'd deserve that. But she believes in second chances, everyone gets a second chance.

He sees then that she doesn't have an answer that will make sense to him, so she doesn't speak. They're silent for a long time, they end up sitting on opposite sides of the glass, both of them unsure of how to proceed. He's never been in a situation where he doesn't know what to say to a woman. And Tris is a woman.

He'd noticed it over time. Well of course, he'd always known that she was a female, but now, she's a woman. And she makes him uneasy because she's now aware of her own growth. He's not one of those pigs that doesn't want or like confident women — contrary to popular belief — but it's that her confidence is silent and he doesn't even think she knows that it's there. It's not forced like it used to be when she joined Dauntless 3 years ago. She doesn't look like someone trying so desperately to fit in or to be liked. And it's intimidating because he has no idea when it started to have an effect on him.

"Careful, I can see you thinking too hard, Twelve." Tris jokes, narrowing her eyes as she teases him. He snorts, looking down as he studies the hem of his sweatpants as if they're the most interesting thing in that moment. She places her hand on the glass, "What is it?"

"Nothing." He answers without really thinking about it. He shrugs as they make eye contact. "Just…" He pauses and inhales. "Don't you have a life outside of visiting me? Don't you have things to be doing like leading?" He looks down to gather some pride because the intensity she's staring at him with is stifling. She's angry that he's questioning her — he knows that look because he used to get the same one — and when she presses her lips together that way, it's too much. And then her expression falters and he sees her crack.

"Someone should remember you." She tells him, looking him in the eyes. "Everyone wants to erase you from the story, but I remember you. I know you saved me and then helped the rest of us. I remember."

"It doesn't change anything." He says. He's detached from it, like he's not talking about himself.

"You know, I never thought you could be selfless. I never considered you were the way you were. Cold— "

"Ruthless."

"Cold." Tris says adamantly, daring him to argue with her. He smirks. "I never considered that you were just doing what you thought was for the greater good. I never considered that you pushed us because there would be a time when all our training was real. And I know that's stupid, considering we're an army faction, but it didn't seem real."

He leans back on his palms, studying her. There's a second when she looks like the girl from Abnegation, but then it's gone when she looks up at him, directly in his eyes. He's never had someone tell him that they understand him or his actions. He doesn't know if he's worried or not. But it's nice to hear some sort of validation that he wasn't just talking to hear his own voice. Someone noticed him — whether she realized it then — she heard him. "Not until…?"

"Not until it… Was happening." The response is lame, she knows that. But she doesn't know what else to say. Not really."Granted, I never expected that the faction would be split by good and evil. Such a — "

"Cliché?" He laughs, nodding his head. "Yeah." He shrugs a single shoulder, making a face that says oh well. "It is what it is now. I can't change how they view me."

"Yes, you can." She nods. "People are forgiving."

"Not that forgiving." He cackles, brushing a hand over his short hair. He touches a finger to his dermal piercings above his eyebrow, thankful they're still there and someone hadn't ripped them out when they stripped him of everything else. He stands and turns his back to her, staring out the window in the wall next to his bunk. "I am still who I am. And there isn't a soul in this damn city that doesn't know I was Jeannine's pet." He spits the words like they're poison. He doesn't know what made him angry. He's always angry anyway so it doesn't matter. Self hatred is potent and it's like a drug to him at this point. It's his punishment for growing enough of a conscience to do the right thing. The day the feeling fades, he'll probably die.

"I'm sorry." She apologizes, making him — and Doug — nearly choke.

Eric turns and stares at her, his green eyes bore into her blue ones. He doesn't know what to say and it's one of just a handful of times where he's speechless.

"What, I am." Tris insists. He nods and turns back around to throw himself in his bunk. He flips to his stomach and their eyes meet again.

"What for?" He asks.

"For being unable to help."

"Aaah, I'll be alright." He smirks at her, propping his head up in his hand. He doesn't tell her that she's done enough, or say thank you because maybe that would be too nice. And he may not be evil but he's definitely not nice. He doesn't want her to think that he is either. She's definitely his best friend when comparing his relationships, but he's trouble and he doesn't want her to forget that. "How's Toby?" He asks teasingly, giving her the leering, leader smile she's grown accustomed to seeing.

"Four is fine." She tells him and he chuckles mischievously because he knows she would have shoved him if she could have. She's lying to him of course. And they both know it.

Four isn't stupid — not in the traditional sense — he knows Tris visits Eric. Every leader knows. Both Eric and Tris know that Four feels disrespected by it and just won't say.

"I'm sure he is." He says aloud, talking to himself more than he is to her. He gives her a sideways glance, "Does he know you're here… Does anyone?"

Tris yawns, holding her hand over her mouth as she draws in a breath. With a sway of the head, she confirms what he already knows. Four knows she'd rather spend her time entertaining a prisoner than be around him. She rolls her eyes at the smug look on his face. "You don't have to pretend you know?"

He knows what she's talking about but he won't tell her that. "Come again?"

"You don't have to fake it with me. I know you aren't a jerk naturally." She says it so matter-of-factly that he almost can't laugh. Almost. He is a jerk. He held her best friend over the chasm to make a point. He went along with Jeanine's harebrained — yet equally masterful — schemes with little thought for a long time. He is a jerk. And maybe a reckless one at that.

"You sound so sure of that." He notes, leering at her like he's supposed to be making her feel small but she just glares at him. She considers him for a moment, just letting her eyes trail over him and she sees him get uncomfortable and then she smirks, like she's won the game he didn't even know he started.

He stops and clears his throat. "A few good deeds does not a hero make."

He dips his chin with a sideways tilt of the head as he accepts defeat. She grins. And it's like 16 year old Tris is back again. He didn't know her as well as he could have then — or should have, considering he was supposed to find a reason to put a bullet in her head — but he thinks he has a pretty good idea of what makes her tick now that he's had pleasant conversations with her. An odd look settles on her face and he can only describe it is as infatuation. And it's bad. It's so bad.

She shouldn't look at him with any sort of affection whatsoever and it should never be fondness. Perhaps it's innocent in nature, that's acceptable. The problem lies in his inability to be nurturing in any sense of the word. He crushes things. That's what he does, he destroys. She seems to be the only person who can't see that. He's failed to get her to see it. She's too passionate, too deep, too complex to be hurt by him, she doesn't deserve that. And it's what will happen. He's hurt others beyond reparation, but she's under the impression that he won't hurt her, or at least that he won't do so intentionally. And he won't, he's passed hurting people for fun, that doesn't mean it won't happen.

"Don't look at me like that…" He groans, pressing his fingers into his temples as he sits up. He brings right foot up onto the bunk and rests his chin on his knee.

He misses the fleeting panic in her eyes. She sucks in a breath, scolding herself for being so transparent. However, she recovers well. "Like what?" She seems confused. Her eyes are wide and her head is tilted to the side as she leans back on her hands. She's saved herself. Having fun she mockingly copies him when he narrows his eyes. He realizes that she knows exactly what she's doing to him. She looks amused and he's never hated her as much as he does right then.

He closes his eyes and exhales as he laughs. Accepting that she's messing with him. "I deserved that." He'll let her have her fun.

She stands and dusts off the back of her long Amity skirt. She looks at her watch, it's just past 5 in the morning. "How early is it this time?" He asks.

"Early." She shrugs and stifles a laugh when he gives her an annoyed look. He stands from bed — if it can even be considered a bed — and he walks toward the barrier between them. She smiles up at him and sticks three fingers in one of the holes — because while she can fit her entire hand through if she wanted, he can't — resting her chin on her hand. He places his same three fingers over her's. He knows he shouldn't because contact is personal, but she's his only personal connection to the outside world and she keeps him sane. She laces their fingers together as a sign of… Good faith. She pulls away. "I have to go."

He knows. "Yeah."

"Okay." She pulls away, placing her hand on the glass and he mirrors her, smiling at her in a way he'd only ever smile at her.

She taps her fingers on the second door, and Doug signals for it to be opened. She looks back at Eric, expecting him to be looking at her. But he's not, he's turned away, walking back to his bed. She looks down and walks toward the exit of the secluded hallway reserved for his cell.

People stop what they're doing when they see her. It's supposed to be out of respect but she just feels like she's interrupting their days when she shouldn't be. She exits the large building, walking toward the truck Johanna lets her borrow. She pulls the key from under her bra strap and unlocks the door, climbing into the driver's seat.

She lays her arms across the top of the steering wheel and she takes a minute to rest her forehead on her forearms. She always needs to take a minute to process what she's doing. And every time she's says she'll stop showing up to see him, it's only a matter of days before she realizes that she's taking a train up to amity to borrow a truck and then she's headed west to see him. She rests her chin on her arms and stares off into the early morning darkness.

Tris takes a breath and then starts the truck. She drives down the dirt road, headed for Amity.