Tris' POV

The truck keeps coming. I've never seen one like this. It's much larger than any of the others and its black. I make out two people sitting in the front. From this distance it's hard to tell, but I'm fairly certain I've never seen them before.

They stop directly in front of us. A man and a woman step out.

"Hello," the woman says in greeting. She has tattoos covering every inch of her skin from the neck down. Her hair is fiery red, her face is covered in freckles. "My name is Jen. And this is Amar," she introduces, gesturing to the man beside her.

He's tall with beautiful dark skin. His eyes are hazel and his features are solemn. "Hello," he says.

Eric hasn't moved an inch. He's staring at Amar as if he's seeing a ghost.

"You're supposed to be dead," Eric says, voice gruff.

"We have a lot to discuss," Amar replies stoically.

"If you come with us, we will explain everything," Jen steps in, face open and kind.

Eric takes a step backwards, taking me with him. "We aren't going anywhere with you," he replies.

"I see you haven't changed," Amar remarks. "Just as rebellious as ever."

"You don't know me," Eric spits out.

"On the contrary," Amar says, "I've been watching you, Eric. I have seen who you've become. I can't say I'm surprised."

What was that supposed to mean? He's been watching Eric? How?

"Who are you?" I ask.

The woman, Jen, places a slender hand on Amar's shoulder. "We are people who only want to help you. You can trust us," she says.

"How do we know you're telling the truth?" I question.

Jen shrugs. "You can't know for sure. You are running out of options though, Tris. You and Eric will die out here without provisions."

Two thoughts crowd my mind. This woman is a stranger to me, and yet somehow she knows my name. Also, she's right. Eric will need medicine and we have no food to survive. There's nowhere to go.

I look up at Eric. He's marble, he's a stone statue. He knows Amar and from his attitude, their history together isn't a pleasant one. He obviously distrusts these people, but what other choice do we have? They know things and I'm curious to find out how they know them.

I look to Jen. "We'll go with you," I say.

The other woman smiles softly. It's a smile I feel like we can trust. I hope I made the right decision. If not...the cost will be our lives.


"This is a bad idea," Eric tells me, sitting defensively in the the back of the truck. Arms crossed, feet spread wide, he cuts an intimidating figure. A very unhappy, intimidating figure.

"She's right though. We couldn't survive out in the wilderness for long," I tell him gently.

"We can't trust them, Tris." He bows his head. He sighs, and says, "Amar was my instructor when I was an initiate."

Eric's instructor. I try to imaging Eric during initiation. I think up several different versions of Eric during that time. I can imagine a scared, young man, wanting to succeed. I can see an angry, bitter boy who wanted to be the very best. Only he wasn't. Four was always one step ahead.

"Why did you think he was dead?" I ask.

"We were told he was dead. Except he isn't," he says in confusion.

I take in the scenery: old buildings, cracked pavement, broken down telephone poles. The remains of an abandoned city.

"I take it you and Amar didn't see eye to eye," I say, watching him closely.

Eric smirks, the spark of his old cruelty shining through his dark, hardened irises. "You could say that."

"Tell me," I encourage, scooting closer to press our sides together.

The move must have surprised him because his eyes widen momentarily. Then his face softens and the coldness thaws from his eyes. "He didn't like me. I wasn't what he wanted me to be. My actions often disappointed him. Four was his star student," he tells me, chuckling bitterly.

"I see," I say

I really do. Four and Eric are more similar than many might think, but I spent a lot of time observing them during my time in Dauntless. Both are strong, relentless. Both are natural leaders. The only difference is that Four is much better when it comes to hiding the coldness that resides in him. He can imitate compassion, mercy, and even forgiveness when the situation calls for it. It makes Four more likable, more relatable.

"I don't know how he's alive, but I know he doesn't approve of me. And I try not to make a habit of relying on anyone who might wish me ill will," Eric says.

"We're in this together," I remind him. "Whatever their intentions, we're in this together. You're not alone."

He reaches for the hand closes to him and squeezes. "I like the sound of that," he says.

The car stops then, and Jen hops out.

"We're here," she announces.

I wonder how I missed the fence that surrounds the entire area. It's so tall, and the barbed wire on the top would be enough to prevent anyone from coming in...or getting out.

We're in some kind of military compound. A large sign in front says Bureau of Genetic Welfare. Behind the fence there are dozens of buildings all labeled different things. And there are people everywhere, walking and talking. Some stop to stare at us and I feel Eric stiffen next to me. I keep hold of his hand as we jump down from the bed of the truck.

"Welcome," Amar tells us. "We know this must be confusing for you both, but we ask that you cooperate with us and stay patient. All of your questions will be answered."

He stares at Eric pointedly. Amar's distrust, while perhaps understandable, grates on my nerves. If he's been watching Eric, then he should know he isn't the same boy he once knew.

"I'm sure we have nothing to worry about, Amar," Jen says, grinning over her shoulder at us. "We have to go through security first, and there your weapons will be taken."

"No," Eric says.

"I'm afraid you have no choice. Our purpose isn't to harm either of you," she reassures. "It's merely to ensure our people's safety. You are worried you can't trust us. We are concerned we can't trust you."

"Then why bring us here?" Eric demands angrily.

"Because we saw that you were in need of aid," she replies.

"Eric," I murmur.

He looks down at me and I know his Dauntless mind is sending off a thousand warning flags. Our weapons are our only means of protection and to give that up, in his mind, is suicide. I can understand how he feels because those same flags are flying around in my head as well, but I can also see their point.

"We have no choice," I tell him.

His jaw is clenched so tight I fear it might shatter. His hand grips mine. "Okay," he gives in.

We walk to the checkpoint, and I bend down to take the dagger out of my boot and the small pistol from my jacket. Eric only had the one gun, and he reluctantly sets it on the conveyor belt.

"I hope I don't live to regret this," he mutters, for my ears only.

I laugh. "Me too."

"Now," Jen says, "We'll show you what we do here. Follow me."

Eric visibly relaxes when Amar starts walking in the opposite direction. He watches as the man disappears around a corner.

"Together," I say.

He turns back to me. He nods. "Together."