This is a drabble of something Shauna once said, before Tris went down the zip line. Shauna's POV of her initiation, during her fighting scenes, and Four (Tobias) helping her train at night.

And what's that thing we just know about me by now?

I ship ONLY FOURTRIS. Which mean ABSOLUTELY NOTHING ROMANTIC GOES ON BETWEEN SHAUNA AND FOUR.

Of course, Shauna is going to talk about how he looks, because, well, she's a girl, and lets face the facts: If we were sent through a portal that took us to the Divergent world, we'd be eyeing Four.

Well, I probably wouldn't, since TOTAL FOURTRIS SHIPPER.

Which reminds me, I DO NOT OWN DIVERGENT. THIS IS FANFICTION, HENCE THE NAME AND WATTPAD FAN FICTION!

Shauna:

I scream frustrated. Tears sting my eyes, which feel like the size of apples, about to pop from their sockets.

Of course, I lost again. I always lose all my fights. Transfers do better at combat than me. I sob again. My fight today was against Zeke. Before we fought, he promised me he'd let me win, so I'd go a little higher in the rankings. It's the last stage of Initiation. My time on the fear landscape was average, along with my number of fears. My simulation timing was a little below average. I'm probably last in stage three: Combat. He said he'd lose one so I'd at least have a shot at the top ten.

But he lied. He punched me hard on my stomach, knocking the air out of my lungs. I didn't even get a chance to give him an accusing glare before I knocked out. I can't believe I was stupid enough to trust him.

I guess I should explain this all to you. I chose Dauntless, like my Aptitude Test said, so the moment I arrived back after the choosing ceremony, we had the fear landscape. I had 17 fears. A pretty average amount. It took me about a half hour to get out, which was also average. The next thing we did were simulations. I screamed and cried through everyone, knowing what fear would pop out at me. I didn't do too well on those. And now, we are on stage three, which is combat. Like the other two stages, transfers and dauntless borns are mixed in, meaning us and the newbies fight each other. You'd thing I'd have a shot against the newbies since I've been here longer, but an Erudite kid beat the crap out of me the other day.

I'm so bad, I get beat up by the nerds. Great.

I did good at shooting the guns and throwing the knives, but I'm terrible at hand to hand combat.

I guess I've been crying, since I taste salt on my tongue. My theory is proven correct when I touch my cheek and my fingers are watery. I close my eyes. The aptitude test said I belong in Dauntless. How could I, if I am failing so miserably?

I hear the door to the training room open. I look up confused. It's about midnight; the Dauntless awake should be drunk about now. Drunk enough to not be able to open a door knob.

But it's not a drunkie. It's Four. The guy who has the best shot here in Dauntless. Sad, since he's Stiff born. I forget his real name. Everyone called him Four since Amar started calling him that after his fear landscape had only four fears. And it's not just the fact he has has the lowest amount of fears in Dauntless history. He gained the best aim, and was able to hit the bulls eye after every throw and every shoot of his gun. He beat the shit out of the Erudite kid that beat me up so bad, that Erudite kid's tooth flew out. He was even the main reason why our team won in capture the flag. And if that weren't good enough, he's actually attractive.

Him just standing in front of the door makes me feel degraded. I scowl, trying to be tough. I've never had a conversation with the guy, but he's probably overly cocky, knowing he will no doubt be in Dauntless after initiation, with the best job this place has to offer, and knowing that he'll even do a good job at it. He's great at leading people. Not in a controlling way, but more in a strategic and somewhat passive way. I'd know, since I was on his team for capture the flag.

"What are you doing here?" I ask, but my voice comes out scratchy. I'd like to punch my vocal cords right about now, but I'd probably miss. I am so pitiful.

"Training." He says casually.

"Why?" I ask. He's already Good at everything. I want to slap him because he is, but he'd probably easily dodge me.

" I can't sleep." He says, going toward a punching back.

"Come here for the punching bag to tire you out?"

"I can't sleep because I'm not tired." He says.

"Why?" I ask.

"None of your business." He snaps. I try not to flinch.

"So why are you here? I know because you can't sleep, but..." I say, before logic hits me. "Oh. You have nightmares." Never thought I guy like him would have any.

He punches the bag and kicks it. He moves so fast, I don't know which one he did first. I'm not going to ask about what nightmares. He wouldn't tell me anyway.

"You're lucky you know." I say, giving him high praises. "You have no problems here. You fit perfectly. It's like you were born here."

"Well." He says punching the bag harder. "I wasn't." He finishes bitterly.

What I said goes over my head again. Great. I reminded him of his old home.

"Sorry." I say regretfully. "It's just...you're doing better than me in initiation. I'm probably going to be factionless.

He shrugs. "Not if you learn to fight better."

"You say it like it's something easy to do." I say looking at him from the corner of my eye. His ears stick out, and his hair is still short like a Stiff's, but it makes him look more intimidating. Not solemn, like it would on other Stiffs.

He stops mid punch, and retreats his arm. I get a glimpse of his bicep. I wrinkle my nose. It's not huge, like he's on steroids, but not small either. It's somewhere in the middle range size. A sign that the rest of his body is perfect too. I glare at him in my mind. If you weren't in initiation, I wouldn't feel so bad about myself.

"Punch the bag." He says.

I blink. It takes me a while to realize what he's saying. "Why, so you can laugh at me?"

"No." He says calmly, ignoring my rude tone. "So you can win a fight tomorrow."

"How Stiff of you." I say dryly getting up from my crouched position on the dusty floor.

"I can always not help you." He says icily.

"Sorry, sorry." I say putting my arms up in surrender.

Teaching must be something he's born with, because he gives me helpful tips that not even Amar or Max have bothered teaching us. "You have a lot of muscles." He says. "You just have to put it to good use."

"People with muscles win fights." I say puffing as I punch the bag. Of course it moves, but I doubt an actual person would stay still waiting for me to punch. "I always lose."

"Only because you punch the second you enter the arena. You're not that fast, either." He critics. "But, if you dodge your opponents attacks for a few minutes in the ring to tire them out, you can get a few powerful punches in and possibly win."

I stop punching and look at him like an alien. "You talk like you've had years of practice analyzing fights."

He scowls. "Not analyzing. Experiencing."

"Experiencing fights? In Abnegation? They actually let you guys watch fights?"

"No." He says his voice rumbling, scaring me a little. "They don't." He says, with finality in his voice.

I punch again. I just imagine it's Zeke. I trusted him for years, admired him. I guess he only cares about being a part of the top dogs, not me.

"Before, you said to avoid attacks." I say, still boxing the bag, making it swing. "How in the hell do I do that if I'm slow, too?"

"You don't have to move around to avoid attacks." He says. "There is also the option of ducking down, low on the floor when someone charges for a good swing. That also gets them off balance, and you can either kick-which would be good, since you'd be on the floor, giving your legs a lot of force-or if you can't get a good angled kick, and good punch would do as well."

I nod. Punching the stupid bag isn't going to help me get better at a fight, but his advise is really helpful. It might just help me.

"Wanna practice?" He asks.

"I am." I say kicking the bag with my toe now.

"I meant on me. I doubt the poor bag will be able to duck, bend, and strike back like an actual person."

His words put a little fear in me. It means he won't go easy on me.

Who cares about the poor punching bag? What about poor Shauna?

Nervously, I try throwing a punch, but he catches my fist with his palm and twists it.

"Try again, but this time try distracting me so I can't catch the fist."

I throw my fist out like I'm going to punch his face, but then I kick him in his chest. He grabs my foot.

"Not bad. Except that I was expecting the distraction."

What kind of madness is this! "Can't we start small?" Maybe I can fight a butterfly. Then a grasshopper, then a frog, then a bird, then a cat, then a person.

"No." He says. "It's better to get the worse out of the way, so that you know what to expect for the rest."

I don't understand his logic, but so far he's been the only help I've had at hand to hand combat, and he's only been here for twenty minutes. In other words, I trust him.

For about two more hours, I learn how to kick, punch, and protect some of my weak spots. He has his palms out so he looks like a mime inside a box. He tells me to kick them, and he puts his palms up higher and higher when I smash my foot pn them. By the time he puts his hands down, I am panting.

"Not bad imrovement, but you could use some more." He says mostly to himself.

"You'll train me more?"

"No." He smiles a little. It looks foreign on him. "We'll see how well you do under pressure tomorrow in the real arena."

Shit.

My fight is against a Candor boy. His name is Ernie, and he's big and strong and fast and intimidating, and won all his fights, and I want to run.

He obviously underestimates me, since he stalks toward me slowly, almost bored. But he doesn't know I've been training, with Four, who is even a better fighter than him.

He sighs exasperated, and then throws a punch, and I dodge it. He raises an eyebrow, confused and not expecting that. I sweep him off his feet with my leg, and he falls hard.

Let's just say, from there, I managed to kick him, and even let out a few punches. When he lies on the floor bruised and out of consciousness, I turn and look at Four. He gives me an approving nod. Then I look at Zeke, who stares at me beaming. He gives me a sad thumbs up.

I guess I'll talk to him later.

"Good job, Shauna." Amar says. "You can take him to the infirmary now."