A/N: Four isn't in chapter 17 at all, so I didn't feel the need to write it. But anyway, enjoy chapter 18! I am so, so, so, so sorry about how long this has taken. I feel terrible. I keep getting so distracted. I hope everyone survived hurricane sandy with as little damage as possible.

Chapter 18-The First Fear

"Lynn," I open the door and gesture for her to come. She gets up and comes over to me.

I hold the door for her and come in after her. "Take a seat."

She sits down on the seat and plays with her piercings. "What is this?"

"Fear," I tell her. "The simulation will make you experience one of your worst fears until you can get your heart rate slowed and your breathing even. It's all about keeping a clear head." I pick up a needle. "I'm going to inject serum your neck."

She tips her head to the side and I inject her carefully before walking to my computer. I begin attaching electrodes to myself.

She goes into the fear and I sigh. People dressed in black are grabbing her arms, lifting her off her feet, carrying her somewhere. She starts screaming and kicking, her heart rate accelerating wildly. I shake my head.

After twenty minutes of her useless sobbing and shaking she finally seems to remember what I said, and she clenches her hands into fists and stops screaming. A moment later I begin detaching the wires. She's waking up.

I walk over to the chair and wait. She opens her eyes and starts throwing punches. I dodge a few and then grab her wrists and pin them down. "Lynn, come on. Snap out of it."

She blinks and starts shaking and crying.

"That was horrible."

"I know," I said quietly. "You can go back to the dorms through the back door."

She nods and I help her to her feet. I guide her to the door, and she leaves, rubbing at her eyes. "Four?"

I raise an eyebrow.

"Will it always be so bad? Will I always feel so terrified?"

"Sometimes you get past fears, sometimes you don't. I can't tell you for sure what will happen to you."

She nods and rubs at her eyes. "I'll see you around, I guess."

I nod and watch her leave. Then I turn and go push open the door. "Peter."

Peter comes into the room and looks at the chair. He makes no effort to get in it, though.

"Go on, sit."

"What is this?"

"A fear simulation—we make you see one of your worst fears. You have to calm your heart rate and breathing in order to get out. Sit."

"I don't—"

"I don't care. Sit."

He walks over slowly and sits in the chair. I pick up the needle.

"What is that for?"

"This is how you get put in the simulation."

"I don't—"

I stab his neck and push the plunger, fast. He flinches and I pull the needle out. "Enjoy. Keep your heart steady."

I quickly attach my own wires again and I wait.

Peter's running through the Candor compound, going somewhere—he's running with a purpose. He bursts through a door to a house, and I note that it looks nothing like Abnegation.

There's a thumping upstairs, and he runs. A young girl is tied up in a pink bedroom, her wrists and angles bound together and tied to a wooden chair. She's got duct tape over her mouth.

Peter frantically runs to her, and pulls the tape off her mouth. "Hey, it's okay, shh, where's Mom?"

He hears the sound of a bullet clicking into place and a man points a gun at the girl's head.

"What is going on? Get away from her!"

Peter lungs, trying to reach her, but there appears to be an invisible shield. He can't reach her.

The man shoots.

Peter screams and collapses to his knees, crawling across the floor, still trying desperately to reach the girl. Her eyes had rolled back into her head, and there's a bullet wound in her forehead. She was dead.

Peter is still screaming.

I wait impatiently for him to relax. I don't know who she is, or why he's reacting like this, but I know we've been in here for a long time and I want out.

In just under a half hour, Peter managed to stop sobbing and dry heaving on the floor and he fell back against a purple wall and gazed emptily at the carpet. A moment later, I came back to the room. I quickly take off the wires and turn to him.

His bloodshot eyes open, and his whole body jerks forward into a sob.

I wait.

And wait.

Finally he rubs at his eyes and throws his feet over the edge of the metal chair. "That," he says slowly, "was pure cruelty."

"Who was she?"

His head snaps up and his eyes widen.

"You-you can't tell anyone about that."

"I know. I can't. But who is she?"

His eyes slide away from mine, "My sister."

"Is she still in Candor?"

"No. She's dead." He gets to his feet.

"Peter, I—"

"Don't say you're sorry. I don't want your pity. How do I get out of here?"

I lead him to the back door and tell him how to get back to the dorm. He leaves wordlessly.

I don't pay much mind to anyone else's landscapes, mostly because I accidentally felt bad for Peter, and I don't want to feel bad for anyone else.

Then it was Tris's turn.

"Come on, Tris."

She gets up and walks toward me, jumping over Drew's foot at the last second when he tries to trip her. I put my hand on her shoulder and guide her in. Technically, there's no need for my hand. I know that. It's a doorway. She can get through it all by herself. But I want to touch her, and here's my perfect opportunity.

I close the door behind us, and she flinches, her thin shoulders pressing into my chest as she leans as far away from the metal chair as she can get.

"Sit." I put my hands on her arms and squeeze gently. I nudge her forward.

"What's the simulation?" I can hear her trying to remain calm, which is good. Good practice for what's coming.

"Ever hear the phrase 'face your fears'? We're taking that literally. The simulation will teach you to control your emotions in the midst of a frightening situation." For the first time all day, I use the explanation I was told to use.

She touches her head and sits in the seat carefully, like if she moves too fast it might attack her.

"Do you ever administer the aptitude tests?"

"No. I avoid Stiffs as much as possible," I tell her flatly. I'd be at great risk of being recognized if I did that.

"Why?"

I almost flinch at her nonstop questionnaire. "Do you ask that because you think I'll actually answer?"

I hated to be harsh to her, but she's strong. My words, my attitude, all of it will bounce right off her.

"Why do you say vague things if you don't want to be asked about them?"

I ignore this, reaching out and gently sweeping her hair into my hands off to her shoulder, letting my fingertips brush against the soft skin at the back of her neck. A reasonable person would have asked her to move it herself, but I'm yet to rule out the possibility of my impending insanity.

I tap the syringe and she turns to look at me.

"An injection?" Her eyes widen, and for a minute I think dear Lord, don't let needles be one of her fears.

"We use an advanced version of the simulation here; a different serum, no wires or electrodes for you."

"How does it work without wires?"

Curiosity killed the Tris, I think sourly. "Well, I have wires so I can see what's going on. But for you, there's a tiny transmitter in the serum that sends data to the computer."

She's turned her arm up to offer me the underside of her elbow, so I reach out and flip her arm over. I carefully ease the needle into her neck. She winces as I inject her, and it kills me to know I'm deliberately causing her pain. Her eyes stay glued on my face, though, so I wear a calm mask.

"The serum will go into effect in sixty seconds. This simulation is different than the aptitude test. In addition to containing the transmitter, the serum stimulates the amygdala, which is the part of the brain involved in processing negative emotions—like fear—and then induces a hallucination. The brain's electrical activity is then transmitted to our computer, which then translates your hallucination into a simulated image that I can see and monitor. I will then forward the recording to Dauntless administrators. You stay in the simulation until you calm down—that is, lower your heart rate and control your breathing." I feel almost out of breath. That's the most talking I've done all day—a bunch of nervous babbling to Tris, who probably didn't understand most of it.

She appears to be freaking out. I move forward and plant my hands on either side of her head—I can't help myself. I'm dying to offer her some sort of comfort. "Be brave, Tris. The first time is always the hardest."

Her eyelids flutter closed and I quickly attach myself to the computer and watch.

Tris is in a field of some sort. A crow lands on her shoulder and she swats at it. Then she turns and looks at it, and begins attacking it, crying out when it sinks its stupid talons into her. Her head lifts up and her eyes fill with dread as a whole flock of crows begin flying at her.

She flails her arms and sobs as they all land on and peck at her. She's bloody and sobbing and calling out for help, and I'm watching and I feel sick to my stomach because I can't help her.

She lays down, stretching and breathing through her nose. I feel a sense of pride. My words rubbed off on her. I glance at the clock in the corner. Barely two minutes has passed. That's my girl.

The simulation begins to fade just when the clock shows her third minute in. I pull off the electrodes and wait. Her eyes fly open, filled with fear, and she curls into a ball and begins sobbing.

I unthinkingly reach out and touch her shoulder—the same shoulder birds were tearing at moments ago. She flings a fist out and hits my stomach. It doesn't really hurt, and I can only understand her pain—fear landscapes are rough.

"Don't touch me," she sobs.

I ignore her and stroke her hair softly. "It's over."

She's now trying to rub off birds that aren't there. "Tris."

"Tris, I'm going to take you back to the dorms, okay?"

Surely, Drew would notice if I called him in just three minutes after I called Tris in, when everyone else had to wait half an hour. She doesn't need a larger target on her back. I tell myself that's the reason I'm going to walk her back, but I know it's not.

"No!" She looks at me through teary eyes. "They can't see me...not like this..."

"Oh calm down," I roll my eyes at her, trying to put off a joking attitude to calm her down. "I'll take you out the back door."

"I don't need you to..."

I think for a minute about letting her walk alone and stalling time here, by myself.

"Nonsense," I take her arm and pull her up.

She walks with me for a while before yanking her arm from me and turning her eyes to mine. Her face is full of betrayal, and I almost feel guilty.

"Why did you do that to me? What was the point of that, huh? I wasn't aware that when I chose Dauntless, I was signing up for weeks of torture?"

I think back to when I was in her position, the way I'd felt when I sat down in that chair only to have the man I'd run from come back for me. "Did you think overcoming cowardice would be easy?"

"That isn't overcoming cowardice! Cowardice is how you decide to be in real life, and in real life, I am not getting pecked to death by crows, Four!"

She sobs into her hands, and for a minute, I'm bitter. My first fear was realistic. For God's sake, my first fear was my childhood.

"I want to go home," she mumbles.

I stare at her, and wait for this little tantrum to end.

"Learning how to act in the midst of fear is a lesson that everyone, even your stiff family, needs to learn. That's what we're trying to teach you. If you can't learn it, you'll need to get the hell out of here, because we won't want you."

"I'm trying. But I failed. I'm failing."

I sigh. Failing? No. I would never allow that. "How long do you think you spent in that simulation, Tris?"

"I don't know. A half hour?"

"Three minutes. You got out three times faster than the other initiates. Whatever you are, you're not a failure." I smile a little. "Tomorrow you'll be better at this. You'll see."

"Tomorrow?"

I touch her back softly. It doesn't matter that her shirt separates our bare skin—I feel the heat of her anyway.

"What was your first hallucination?"

"It wasn't a 'what' so much as a 'who'. It's not important." I shrug quickly.

"And are you over that fear now?"

"Not yet." I take my hand off her and put both hands in my pockets, leaning against the wall outside the dormitory. "I may never be."

"So they don't go away?"

"Sometimes they do. And sometimes new fears replace them." I feel fidgety, nervous. This isn't a topic I enjoy. I hook my thumbs through my belt loops. "But becoming fearless isn't the point. That's impossible. It's learning how to control your fear, and how to be free from it, that's the point. Anyway, your fears are rarely what they appear to be in the simulation."

"What do you mean?"

"Well, are you really afraid of crows?" I kind of smile at her and I watch her whole face relax. "When you see one, do you run away screaming?"

"No. I guess not." A torn expression takes over her face, and then she steps forward, leaning against the wall in front of me. I stop breathing for a moment at her unexpected closeness. She leans even closer to me, and I feel the space between us charge with energy. It tingles. For a minute, I debate closing it, pulling her against my chest and telling her I won't let her fail.

"So what am I really afraid of?" She asks, stopping me.

"I don't know. Only you can know."

"I didn't know becoming Dauntless would be this difficult." She seems to regret her words, and her eyes stay sharp on my face.

"It wasn't always like this, I'm told. Being Dauntless, I mean," I shrug.

"What changed?"

"The leadership. The person who controls training sets the standard of Dauntless behavior. Six years ago, Max and the other leaders changed the training methods to make them more competitive and more brutal, said it was supposed to test people's strength. And that changed the priorities of Dauntless a whole. Bet you can't guess who the leaders' new protégé is."

She doesn't reply, and she doesn't need to. She gazes at me with a look of wonder in her eyes. It makes me nervous.

"So if you were ranked first in your initiate class, what was Eric's rank?"

"Second."

"So he was their second choice for leadership and you were their first."

Spot on. "What makes you say that?"

"The way Eric was acting at dinner the first night. Jealous, even though he has what he wants."

We gaze at each other for a long time before she wipes her eyes and says "Do I look like I've been crying?"

I decide to close up our distance. I lean in and bring our faces close together, narrowing my eyes and inspecting her. She's not breathing. I wonder if that is a good reaction—like when she comes near me—or a bad one, one of fear. I smile, deciding it must be good, because she's not pulling away.

"No, Tris. You look tough as nails."

Whew! What a long chapter, and long overdue at that. Are you still with me? Let me know. I love reviews. Don't be afraid to talk to me, give me suggestions, constructive criticism, any sort of feedback at all. Thanks! I love you.