Eh, this chapter ended up way longer than I had expected it to be. Hope you like it!


Chapter 3: More Questions and Strange Feelings

I don't know how long it has been when I stop venting my anger out on the punching bag. Every inch of my body is covered in sweat. I let my hands drop, flopping down to the floor. I look at my knuckles. They are red, and in a few spots, purple with ugly bruises; the spots hurt when I touch them. But I don't mind. I needed this practice. I needed to hit as hard as I could and as long as my strength would permit, imagining the punching bag to be Eric and the rest of the negative thoughts oppressing me as well as my tormenting, conflicting emotions. And now that it's over, I feel normal again. Like all the tension coiled up in me like a tightened spring has finally left.

I peel my sweaty shirt off my body, letting it dry up, sitting on the floor shirtless. The day has been exhausting, even when I haven't really done anything. The vision of Tris hanging over the Chasm makes its way into my mind again, and I forcefully push it away. I do not wish to have to hit away for another hour.

When my body is cooled down and my shirt dry enough to be worn, I slip it over me, putting my jacket over it which I had discarded on the floor when I started to train, and walk out of the room, shutting the door behind me.

The hallway is quiet, completely silent; I must have been in the training room longer than I thought. I take a left turn to reach the Pit, and as I turn towards the secluded corridor leading to my apartment, I am stopped by the sound of sobbing floating in the air.

I freeze. The Dauntless never cry, at least they don't in public. Tears have been made into a sign of weakness. However sad things go, or however horrible, they try to take it with an easy grin and a laugh, or a punch to the face. I have seen it in Amar and in Zeke among other people; it is one of the things I respect about the Dauntless. It is not like they are any more fearless or powerful than everyone else; it's just that they have learnt to hide their weaknesses or overcome them, and therein lies their strength.

According to my assumptions, the person should not be a resident Dauntless. That leaves the transfers. And them giving way to tears would not be surprising; the Dauntless initiation is gruelling, and even in my time as an initiate, most of my dorm-mates had cried to sleep at night. Whoever this person may be, I should go check.

I quickly make my way towards the sound, which leads me towards the Chasm. I see the figure as I walk towards it; I have to stop short when am close enough to recognize it — kneeling on the floor, her hands clutching the railing like a lifeline, the small frame shaking with sobs, the mass of long blonde hair, tousled from bed. It's Tris, without doubt.

For seconds, I can't move. I just stare at her as she cries, and her sobs are so heartbreaking... She shouldn't be crying like this, no one should be crying like this. It drives a wedge through my heart, the way she just seems to be breaking apart before me. I find it difficult to believe what I see, especially after the incredible strength of will she has shown in the last two days, ever since we met. What could have happened to her to break her down like this?

I take careful steps closer to her until we are at touching distance. "Tris? What is it?" I ask her tentatively.

She swivels around, her body recoiling with fear and shock, and faces me. Her blue-gray eyes are bloodshot and swimming with tears, tears which run down in little rivulets all over her face. Recognition flashes in her eyes. For a beat, she stares at me with wide eyes, her lips parted slightly, even as I look at her in silence. Then, to my horror, she starts to sob again, even harder.

What—?

"What happened?" I ask her urgently. "Tris, what's wrong?" But she doesn't say anything, only shaking her head and crying. She hiccups and gasps, pinching her eyes shut. The front of her shirt is wet with her tears.

Okay, so it seems that I won't be getting any information from her. I sink down on my knees, crouching lower so we are at the same level. She looks so vulnerable, so broken. Who could have done this to her, or what?

I have no experience at comforting whatsoever; emotional issues have always been my weakness. I used to console my mother when I was young, after Marcus was done beating the crap out of her and I was let out of the tiny closet. We would both be crying then. But that was a long time ago. Tears have always made me uncomfortable, making me want to run away in the other direction. But with Tris, I reach towards her unthinkingly. I don't know what I am doing, or how, but I just do. I only know that I need her to stop crying, that I need her to be okay.

"Hey, hey, it's okay, Tris, shhh," I tell her softly in what I hope is a soothing tone. I squat down to the floor, opening my arms out to her, an invitation for an embrace. I am not used to hugging, but admittedly, it is a nice feeling once you stop being stiff. There is a strange softness of physical comfort this gesture offers, doing a greater job than words.

Why should she hug you? my subconscious sneers. She is a Stiff, and she doesn't even know you well.

But surprising me, she crawls into my embrace almost immediately, resting her head on my chest. Our position feels strange; I have never let anyone touch me so intimately, but it feels a good kind of strange, funnily enough. I don't feel awkward with her so close to me, it just feels — right. Maybe it is the way she is relaxing against my touch, her posture giving off an air of trust. I gently rock her in my arms, even as my shirt gets soaked with her tears. Slowly, her sobs subside, and her breathing deepens. I don't know how long it is that I sit with her, two strangers in such an intimate position, and yet not feeling like strangers at all. I close my eyes, resting my forehead on the top of her head, marveling at how perfectly she fits in my embrace. I don't know where these thoughts are coming from, or how I am so comfortable with her pressed against me when I don't even let most people touch me, but for the moment, I just push my brooding to the side, deciding to think about all that later.

When I open my eyes after a few minutes, I see that her breathing has evened out, and her eyes are shut, her face pressed against my chest. She has fallen asleep. I can't help the upward curving of my lips at the adorable picture she makes, her hair tumbling messily down her back. I'll need to get her to bed. Very carefully shifting my weight so that I am cradling her like one would a bride, and very slowly, so as to not wake her up, I stand up. I test her weight in my arms; it's no natter at all, she feels feather light. Taking a deep breath, I slowly begin walking towards the tranfers' dormitory. Tris shifts in her sleep, burying her face deeper in my chest, tickling me a little. I feel a small tug at my shirt, and look down to see that Tris has gripped the front of my shirt, the fabric bunched in her fist. It makes me chuckle.

She mumbles something incoherently into my shirt. I blink, straining to hear what it might be. Sleep-talking is a great tool for studying people's psychology; it is a direct link to their dreams, and hence, to some level, their subconscious. Where all the guards are down.

Tris shifts a little in my arms, letting out a breathy sigh.

"Mhmm... Tobias..." she murmurs. I nearly drop her in shock. Did I hear her right? Did she... did she just say 'Tobias'?

As if to confirm my suspicion, Tris starts talking again. "Tobias..." she whispers. "You don't have to..."

Okay, there is no mistake this time. She definitely said my name. But how can she possibly know my real name? No one in Dauntless knows my real identity, other than Amar, who is dead, Zeke, who I trust will never divulge my secret, and Eric, who I am sure is not in talking terms with Tris. I have changed myself so much since I came here, I doubt even my fellow initiates remember who I was, and even they never learnt my real name. First I was 'Stiff', and after that, I have always been 'Four', thanks to Amar. And yet here is this girl, uttering my name in her sleep. Could it be that she recognized me from Abnegation? But it can't be... I definitely don't remember her, so we could not have been close. I never really stepped out of my room when there were guests in the house anyway; Marcus never permitted it. It wouldn't do for his perfect reputation to have his beaten up son show up in public, would it? My jaw clenches as I think of him.

No, Tris can't possibly recognize me. No one has ever connected Tobias Eaton, faction traitor, with Four, Dauntless 'prodigy'. She of all people can't have. Maybe it is some other Tobias she is talking about. How many people called Tobias have you known? Admittedly, none other than myself. But I don't understand; none of this makes sense. I just stop thinking. I'll bust my brains if I go on.

I realize that I have reached the transfer dorm. Very careful not to make a noise, I walk into the room, where I had slept two years ago. Only one bunk is unoccupied, so I know it is Tris'. I navigate through the dark, reaching my destination. I lower Tris onto the bed, and begin to pull away, but her grip on my shirt stops me. I carefully begin to pry her fingers off me. She whimpers.

I chuckle softly, finally managing to get her hold off me.

"No, don't go..." she moans.

"Tris, shh," I whisper, pressing a finger to her lips. "We don't want your friends to wake up, do we?"

Thankfully, she takes the cue even in her sleep, making no more noise. Her body curls up in a ball, making her seem even smaller. I can't take my eyes off her. She must be cold. Her nightdress is so thin (and I avert my eyes from how it accentuates the subtle curves of her body, but I notice all that anyway). Will her sheets be enough? On an impulse, I take off my jacket, lightly draping it over her. She emits a small, contented sigh, shifting deeper into it, making me smile a little. At least we have established that she won't be cold. I cover her with the sheet up to her shoulder, the black material of my jacket peeking from under it, and step back.

"Sleep well, Tris," I whisper, and quietly walk back to my apartment.

-o0o-

I myself don't sleep well that night. Once the concern of seeing Tris safely to her bed has been done with, the issues bothering me crowd into my mind. I take a quick shower before going to bed, but that doesn't seem to be helping much. I drop down on the bed. I thought that I had enough to deal with where the girl was concerned, but she seems to be getting all the more puzzling with each passing day. How much more will the mystery stretch? First her unexpectedly excellent skills, then her ease in shedding her Abnegation traits and blending in with her new faction, and now her heartbreaking tears and her saying my name in her sleep. The first two I can attribute to her being a misfit; maybe she was never bound by the restraints of her faction (although a small voice in my head reminds me that it doesn't quite explain her expertise at fighting), but the last two? I don't know. What could have made her cry so much? Could her trial by the Chasm have affected her that much? I don't think so. Is she homesick? Maybe. Who knows? I make a mental note to ask her about it when I get the chance.

Then this last thing. What was that all about? I don't understand how much she knows about me, and it makes me insecure. And yet I don't know how to confront her about it; she seems like two different people at different times — first asking me if I transferred, and then actually saying my name in her sleep. Perhaps I am looking too much into this... maybe it isn't about me at all, but some other Tobias she might have known. I decide to let the issue slide for now.

And even as I close my eyes, I think of the subject I have refused to acknowledge till now — the strange feelings rising in me ever since I saw her. We have known each other all of three days, and yet she has an effect on me that no other girl ever had. I have never thought of girls romantically, even when they have thrown themselves at me, my Abnegation upbringing holding me back. Besides, I have never managed to trust anyone. But Tris is different. There is something in her which makes it difficult for me to look away from her, which makes me notice the tiniest things about her. I have been thinking about her more than I have about any girl in my life. Something makes me keep a look out for her, and yet it is not doubt at her capabilities that I feel. No, the first impulse I have when I see her is to press her so tight that she breaks, that she shows the burning flame she keeps within. I remember my fascination as I watched her struggle to hold on to the railing — that fire is what I want, which pulls me in. That is a girl like no other; she is a mystery.

Sleep doesn't seem to be my friend tonight. I toss and turn, trying to empty my head of the thoughts circling around. When I finally do fall asleep, I dream that Tris is hanging from the railing over the Chasm, tears running down her face. "Tobias, help me!" she calls out. I try to reach out to her, but somehow, I can't move a step. Her hands slip. "Tobias! Please!" she screams, and she falls down, down, down, until I can't see her anymore. This is for your own good, — the whisper carries in the air as I scream out her name.

I wake up in cold sweat, my heart hammering.

Well, that just promised a sleepless night for me.

-o0o-

I walk into the training room to find Eric already there, pairing up transfers on a sheet of paper.

"You're early," I say with some surprise.

"You're late," he retorts. "What, had nightmares after what you saw last night? Couldn't stand the sight of little girls giving a little trial of strength?"

I try not to let his words get to me. "What happened to me is none of your business," I snap.

"Ouch. I get it why you don't get any girls, Four. I bet they run away screaming when you look at them."

I refuse to reply, but Eric's words stick in my head. Is that the truth? Am I so busy keeping my defenses up that I have become unapproachable? Why does it matter anyway if girls are intimidated by me? It's not like I'm interested in them. Suddenly, the image of Tris comes to my mind. She certainly has not been intimidated by me. Ugh, why does that matter anyway?

Eric thrusts the sheet at my chest. "Here. Today's fights."

I look at the list. The empty slot at the name list is beside Myra, so Tris must have a fight today. I scan down the list — Edward paired with Molly, there's no question in who will win here, Will and Christina, Al and Drew... I stop breathing. Tris has her fight with Peter.

I notice Eric looking at me very carefully, searching for a reaction. Has he noticed that among the initiates, I am most concerned about Tris? I nod at him, careful not to give away any emotion.

"I'll copy it out."

"What do you think? Did I pair well?" Eric's tone is condescending. It is clear that he doesn't really care what I think; he just wants to see if he riled me up successfully. I'm not going to give him the satisfaction.

"Apart from the fact that I don't like your new rules, I see no problems in this," I say neutrally. "The pairings are fine. Although," I smirk, mirroring some of Eric's nonchalant cruelty, "I feel sorry for poor Molly. She going to go down hard."

"She did have her first taste of victory," Eric says, grinning. "I figured she should have some taste of loss too. Can't let them get too cocky." I nod amiably. One would think we are good friends, except that my blood is boiling at the sight of him. My hand shakes slightly as I write Peter's name beside Tris. I don't want this fight to happen.

The initiates enter soon after, and I notice Tris freezing as she sees the name beside hers on the board. Then she walks on, acting as if nothing had happened. The boy Al walks in with her, and stands close to her too. For some reason, it tugs at my already shortened temper.

Christina walks in after Tris. She looks bruised and beaten up, limping slightly.

"Are they serious? They're really going to make you fight him?" she says to Tris, gaping at the board. Her eyes stray to Peter. "What's up with his nose?"

At her words, I look at the boy too. His nose is bent at an awkward angle, and bandaged in places.

"Tris punched him," Al informs her.

"Wow! You rule, girl!" Christina laughs, thumping Tris in the back. I have to repress the urge to do the same. Tris just smiles modestly.

"Maybe you can just take a few hits and pretend to go unconscious," I hear the boy Al suggest to Tris. "No one would blame you."

"Yeah," Tris says. "Maybe." I shake my head silently; Al does not know Tris at all if he thinks she is going to back down.

Molly and Edward's fight goes just as expected. Molly's uncoordinated strength stands no chance against Edward's combination of strength and technique. The fight comes to a close within ten minutes. As Molly drags herself from the floor, only half-conscious, I notice that Eric doesn't even ask her to fight further, only waves her off to the infirmary, supported by Edward. His dark eyes are bright and hungry. He is eager for the next fight. It makes me nauseous.

Peter and Tris make their way into the ring. Tris looks tense; I don't blame her. Admirably, she doesn't look afraid. She steals a glance at me as she readies herself in the combat posture, and our eyes meet for a moment. Perhaps I should nod at her or something, or even try for a reassuring smile or maybe a thumbs up, but my entire body feels stiff with tension. She looks away.

The two start off, circling each other warily. Neither goes for the first blow.

"You two having a good time there?" Eric shouts impatiently. "Want to hang out all day?"

Peter flushes with anger, but Tris holds her composure. He swings a punch at her. Tris ducks quickly. Peter tries again a few times, but Tris manages to dodge the blow every time. I silently praise her quick reflexes. But she can't evade the blows forever.

"Going to keep running away, Stiff?" Peter taunts, his frustration showing on his face. "Wait, you aren't afraid, are you?"

Knowing her quick temper, I expect Tris to retaliate unthinkingly, but she shows more maturity by holding out for a few more minutes, before seeking out an opening and landing a strong punch in Peter's gut. It was well-aimed, well-timed and executed well. Peter stumbles back with a groan. I feel a sudden urge to pump my fist in the air.

Tris uses her chance to punch Peter some more times, and then kicks him. It is almost unbelievable how well she is fighting, her moves better planned than most of the initiates I have seen so far. Her confidence and skills shine through, as if speaking for considerable practice. Eric leans forward, his expression one of extreme interest. Yes, a little Stiff girl holding out for so long, and actually doing well in a fight with a boy nearly twice her weight is something one has to take interest in.

Just when the fight seems to be in Tris' hands, Peter manages to land a punch on her ear. It is a delicate spot, important for maintaining one's equilibrium. Dizzied, Tris stumbles back, and Peter immediately takes his chance and hits out at her. Once that starts, it is clear that Tris has lost her advantage. But the fight doesn't go out of her; every time she falls, she struggles back up again. She blocks a few of Peter's punches, and even lands some of her own. But I can see all too well that it will not be enough. Peter has steadied himself, and he won't let Tris take the lead again. I watch, the hair on my back rising, as Tris falls, struggles to her feet, falls, rises again. Bruises bloom on her face and arms; it is evident from her disoriented look that she is losing track of what is happening. But her arms keep moving, her legs keep moving.

I can't watch anymore. I can't just stand here, watching her take blow after blow, knowing that I can do nothing. My eye drifts to Eric and the look of interest on his face. I don't know whom I want to hurt more, him or Peter. My nails dig so hard into my palms that I wonder if they've broken the skin yet.

I just can't watch her falling. I can't hear the sound of flesh against flesh, of her screams of frustration and pain. I storm out of the room.

I stand in the corridor outside, breathing hard, and with a growl of frustration, punch the wall. My knuckles reply with a painful crunch, and with the throb that immediately develops in them, I know that I'll need to see Jane today. The noises of the fight have faded with my distance, but I can still here Tris' screams, and the sound of blows falling.

Coward, my subconscious sneers. What am I doing here, unable to take the sight of her in pain, when she is inside, taking blow after blow without conceding, still fighting back? I feel disgusted at my weakness. I need to go back in.

I take long, deep breaths, counting from one to ten, and when I am sure that I have my desire to strangle Peter at the very sight of him under control, I flex my aching right hand and walk back to the training room.

I shut the door behind me in time to see her crash to the floor from Peter's kick and lie there, moving feebly. Something inside me snaps.

"Enough!" I shout. My voice booms through the silent training room. Peter, about to aim another kick at Tris' now unconscious form, backs off.

"This fight is over," I say, struggling to rein my voice in to the quiet tone of the instructor. "Peter, you win." I glare at Eric, challenging him to question me, but he simply smirks and shrugs.

He raises his hands to clap slowly. The sound rings through the room.

"That was a good fight," he says. "Both combatants fought well. Take the Stiff to the infirmary, Four."

My immediate impulse is to scoop Tris in my arms and check her condition, but I force myself to circle off Peter's name in the board first.

"Next up, Al and Drew!" I call out. And then, forcefully slowing my pace to a normal walk as compared to the run that my feet want, I pick Tris up. Her face is bruised, as are her arms and legs, but they will heal. She feels too light my arms, like an injured bird, and I am reminded of how I held her against me last night. It's difficult not to let the heat creep up my neck.

Peter wears a triumphant smirk, but his appearance is hardly any better than Tris. Eric must notice it too, because he says, "Take the boy with you too, Four. I'm sure Jane would want a look at him."

It takes Peter a while to realize that the 'boy' referred to is him. His face flushes red.

"I am okay," he says. "I won. No need of the infirmary for me."

"Don't argue with me, initiate," Eric says with a hint of menace in his tone. "What I am saying is for your own good. You look like a wreck. It won't do for us to have you crying for your mommy in your next fight."

"What's the problem, Peter?" I can't help taunt him, a grin on my face, "Did it hurt your ego that you got bruised up by a little Stiff girl?" Laughter fills the room, everyone joining in. Peter's face turns even redder; he scowls.

"Come along. We don't have all day," I say coldly, before marching out with Tris.

Peter's company doesn't allow me to feel too intimate with Tris, but I can't help notice the faint smattering of freckles over her prominently curved nose, and how her lips are so light a shade of pink. Her skin is pale, and the ugly purple bruises make it look even more so. But these bruises are not blemishes, they are her medallions in Dauntless, a sign of her strength and resilience.

I place her on one of the beds lined by the walls in the infirmary. Peter tries to slink off, but Jane catches him in time.

"No running off, boy," she tells him sternly. "On that bed you go, right now." We share a quiet laugh. Jane is in her mid-thirties; the combination of the innumerable piercings on her and her maternal attitude is almost ridiculous.

She pulls me into her office, closing the door behind her for privacy.

"Your hand looks like it needs attention, Four," she says.

"You have a quick eye for injuries," I murmur, letting her examine it.

"Cracked a couple joints, most likely," she says. "I'd like an x-ray to be sure. How did it happen?"

"Temper," I mutter, not elaborating.

"As always," she laughs. "I don't think you could handle a plaster, would you? I'll just bandage it and let it mend on its own."

I glance at Tris, visible on her bed through the gap in the door, as Jane takes care of the hand.

"Take care of her," I blurt out without thought as I turn to leave.

"You know I will," she says and looks at me shrewdly. "So, is she the one?"

"The one?" I look at her, confused.

"I've known you since you were a scrawny initiate, Four, and all these years, I have never seen you care for a girl. You like her, don't you?"

I feel my face heat up. "I don't know what you're talking about," I mutter. "I've cared for Shauna."

"Like a sister," Jane says. "This isn't very sisterly, I think."

I shake my head at her, rolling my eyes, but the thought of considering Tris like my little sister makes me feel a little sick.

"You're being silly. She's just an initiate."

"Of course she is," Jane murmurs, giving a final tug on the bandage. "There. Done. Now off you go."

I walk out of the door and across the ward, my eyes drifting over to Tris one final time as I move out of the infirmary. Behind me, I think I hear Jane laugh quietly.

-o0o-

I walk back to the training room in time to see Will and Christina's fight. I look at the board — Drew's name has been circled.

"The fight's over already?" I mutter to Eric. "I don't think I was gone ten minutes."

"That Al guy was totally useless," Eric comments, making me glance at the boy slouching by the wall. "He took a few hits and went unconscious. I bet he was faking. A total loser, that one."

I look at Al, surprised. I was expecting him to have potential, to do well in the fights. He had defeated Will too easily yesterday. But then I realize from the boy's defeated posture and sad eyes, that the problem is not in his strength. It's in his reluctance to fight. Well, that's a demon he'll have to fight on his own.

"Initiates, you will be having a field trip tomorrow," Eric announces when the fight is over, and Will pulls away a nearly unconscious Christina. "You will be shown the work Dauntless do at the fence, which is the job many of you will be taking unless you make it to the top five. I want everyone by the tracks by eight fifteen. Be late, and you're left out."

There are murmurs and nods from the initiates, and then they are dismissed and slowly file out of the room.

I still have a few minutes' time before my shift at the control room. I wander in the corridor, somehow feeling like I want to see Tris. I can't pinpoint the reason, but there is this urge to talk to her, so I let my feet lead me towards the infirmary. But when I am close to the door, I hear laughter come from inside, and several voices. Tris' friends must be there with her. No go, then. I turn away and walk to the Pire, feeling a stab of disappointment. I tend to take the stairs to reach the control room, even though I have to climb eight floors. Anything better than the closed tiny space of the elevator. Gus nods at me as I walk in, and I plug in the headphones and stare at the screen, losing myself once again in the dimmed activity of this broken city.

-o0o-

I stand by the tracks, waiting for all of the initiates to arrive. I glance down at my watch. It's ten minutes past eight. The train is scheduled at Dauntless at eight fifteen. I run my eyes over the initiates, performing a quick head count. Seven. It doesn't take much to notice that it's Tris and Christina who are missing. I try to push away the worry, but it nags me anyway. I didn't see Tris after the fights; Jane had told me that both Peter and she had slunk off sometime in the night. She'd assured me that the injuries weren't bad, they'd heal soon. But that doesn't stop me from looking towards the headquarters anxiously. What's keeping them?

Two minutes before the train's arrival, I see Tris and Christina running up to the tracks and stopping at the back of the crowd, Tris holding a small piece of a muffin. She doesn't look too good, but not too bad either. Her skills and quick reflexes saved her. I look away from her before our eyes can meet.

I easily jump onto the train carriage as it arrive, the other initiates following me. Standing in the carriage, I see Al helping Tris up. It sends a spark of unreasonable annoyance through me.

While the initiates sit, I stand at the door, leaning my head out while gripping the handles. It provides a sense of freedom and a certain reckless abandon, with the wind in my hair; I love it. I hear the initiates talk, and try to ignore it; the constant babble is an annoyance. Peter starts insulting Tris, and with Christina and Will defending her, it quickly escalates to a full blown argument. I feel the beginnings of a headache. For all my excellence in fights and my intimidating attitude, I hate confrontations. My wonderful childhood ensured it.

"Am I going to have to listen to your bickering all the way to the fence?" I snap at Peter. That bullying jerk. At the same time, Tris says tiredly, "No one wants to hear what you want to say, Peter." I look at her, and our eyes meet. A light blush steals up her cheek as she stares at me, her eyes wide. What wouldn't I give to know what is going on behind those sharp gray eyes. Tris looks away from me first. I look at her for a few more seconds, then get back to looking outside. The cityscape changes with every passing miles, the establishments thickening and thinning out, sometimes well kept, sometimes broken. The buildings grow sparser and largely abandoned as we near the fence. I wonder what is outside of the city, what the danger is that my faction members are protecting us from. I wonder if anyone knows, and why no one asks. I have the security code which can lead me out; maybe someday I'll step out and explore the world, if there is any more of it outside.

"You do, don't you? Ooh!" Christina's shrill voice breaks me out of my musings. "Tris loooves—"

I turn around to see Tris hurriedly placing her hand over Christina's mouth, silencing her, her face very red. A trickle of cold floods through my body. So she loves someone? Who could it be? Al, maybe? He definitely has a crush on her. Or Will? He is good looking enough, and witty too. Stop it, Four! I'm beginning to sound like a prying, hormonal teenage girl. What do I care if she likes someone? She's just an initiate.

But I cannot deny the bitterness that settles in my stomach for the rest of the journey.

The train stops by the fence, and everyone climbs down. It feels strange to actually have the train stop for climbing down, after ages of travelling on running ones.

I tell the initiates about the job opportunities and duties at the fence, before letting them off for a few minutes to explore by themselves before we return.

"Hey, Four!" I look at the fence to see May grinning at me. She was an initiate in my year, Erudite transfer.

"May." I offer her a half smile. "How's it going?"

"The same boring life of the fence," she says with a long suffering sigh. "Patrolling, saving the city from who-knows-what, such a valiant task!"

I shrug. "Never appealed to me either."

"Instructor duty again?" She looks around at the initiates. "I only see you about once a year, Four. How is that fair?"

"I'm around in the headquarters," I point out. "You aren't always at duty."

"You are always high up in the control room," May says.

"Come over for a game of Dare sometime, then," I offer. "I'll be free in a couple of weeks, once initiation is over. How's security, anyway? Things with the Amity?"

"Oh, y'know, the same. We have to check the supplies that come in and the facilities that go out. Max loaded security this year, so we have to double check everything now. And the Amity are always around, digging and planting and whatnot. Seriously, their happy vibe..."

I lose her as my attention is shifted by someone calling Tris' name. I turn around to see an Amity boy with curly blonde hair hugging her. Instantly, my insides feel like they are being clawed by something vicious. I feel the unreasonable urge to pull them apart and give the boy such a talking to that he won't dare turn to look at her again.

The smile that he wears and the conversational way in which they interact tell me that they know each other well. Is this the guy Tris likes? He is probably an Abnegation transfer if he knows her. Are they dating? No, don't be stupid. I know the Abnegation too well; they don't 'date'. Their courtship rituals consist of volunteering together, occasional dinners with each other's family, a slow, tentative, annoying process. But it might be that they like each other; they seem very comfortable together. My eyebrows twitch in anger, but I don't know why.

"...Four, were you even listening?" May's voice brings me back to reality.

"Huh?" I look at her, befuddled. "Um, no, sorry, I lost you there."

May's gaze travels to where mine had been a moment ago, and a knowing smile lifts her lips.

"Ah, so this is what it's all about."

"What is? What are you talking about?"

"That girl. You like her." May wears a smug smile.

"What?" I curse the way my voice goes an octave higher. "Of course not. She's my initiate."

"Keep telling yourself that." May rolls her eyes. "I saw you. You were green with envy."

I frown at her. "Why should I be jealous of anyone?"

May shakes her head. "You're so daft."

"Hey, careful how you talk." I give her my best intimidating quiet voice.

"Don't you try your scary tactic on me," she says, laughing. "Oh, the legendary, unapproachable hunk Four has a crush. Ha, that's so hilarious!"

I throw her a dirty look. "You're ridiculous."

"No, you are," she says, shaking her head. "Now go."

I shake my head at her strange behavior, but once the boy boards his bus and goes away, I walk over to Tris.

That's two people who have commented about me liking Tris. What the hell?

"I am worried that you have a knack for making unwise decisions," I tell her when I am a foot away from her. I shouldn't let my bitterness out on her, but I can't help it. She should be more careful about faction before blood, anyway.

"It was a two-minute conversation," Tris retorts defensively.

"I don't think a smaller time frame makes it any less unwise," I argue, still annoyed, at Tris, at the curly haired boy, at myself, and yet I don't know why.

I take another step closer to her so that we are at touching distance. I am suddenly aware of her perfume, one that had lingered in my mind last night even after I had put her to bed — Dauntless soap, simple and clean, and something sweet, soft, like ripe apples in the orchard. My fingers tingle to touch her, and unable to resist, I lift my hand to carefully rest my fingers on her bruise. She closes her eyes. It worries me momentarily that I might be hurting her, but she makes no attempt to draw away from my touch, so I let my hand linger.

"You fought better than I had expected," I compliment her quietly. She earned it yesterday, I never got to talk to her.

Tris opens her eyes, smiling shyly. "Thank you."

"You should keep up with the attack front," I suggest. "It will help."

She nods. I should drop my hand, now. I have been touching her much longer than is necessary, and certainly longer than is appropriate. But her warm, soft skin feels nice under my calloused fingers, and my hand refuses to move.

Her eyes shift from my face towards the direction of Amity, and her gaze mists over, seemingly lost in some memory. I watch as her cheeks redden, and she bites her lip, laughter in her eyes. Oh, how ignorant she is of how much sensuality the simple gesture of sticking that soft bottom lip between her teeth holds; it sends a pleasurable shiver through my body.

"What are you thinking?" I ask her curiously. I finally find the strength to drop my hand from her face, but end up prolonging even that little moment, my hand trailing down her face, along her jawline, before finally letting go. My heart skips a beat as I feel her shiver slightly.

"Nothing. Just some — nothing," she stammers, blushing.

I blink at her. What was that? Then a sudden thought crosses me — could she be thinking of that Amity boy? They seemed close, and if she had spent time with him there...

Stop being jealous! Even if that were the case, there's nothing you can do about it.

Who's jealous? Not me!

Okay, May was right. I am ridiculous, arguing with myself.

"What happened that night? By the Chasm, I mean," I say, diverting my thoughts to other, more pressing concerns.

Tris blushes. "I'd rather not talk about it. Oh, I never returned your jacket!"

I laugh. Of all things, she is worried about my jacket? "By all means, keep it," I say, feigning nonchalance, while a part of me I didn't even know existed dances a little jig at the thought of her keeping something of mine. Taking serious matters at hand, I test my theory. "Are you homesick?"

Tris stares at me like I have grown a second head. "What? No! I made my own choice. I am happy about it."

Okay, that one's gone, then.

I nod, pressing her again. "Then what made you cry?"

She looks down, completely flustered. Is she afraid of admitting her weakness?

"I told you, I don't want to talk about it."

I look at her sternly. She should trust me. I am her instructor. The reasons that made her break down that badly, if pressed inside, can damage her permanently. "Tris —"

The horn of the train interrupts me. Relief flashes in Tris' eyes.

"Looks like the train is here," she says, clearing her throat. "Let's go."

I frown at her, but helpless, get to my duty of calling the initiates over.

Instead of clearing up, the mystery of this girl just became even deeper. All these days, I was the one people tried to figure out, a puzzle that they couldn't solve. But now it seems that I am not the only one here with big secrets.