Soli Deo gloria

DISCLAIMER: I do NOT own Divergent. GUYS. NEW DIVERGENT STILLS. OH MY GOSH.

Warning, trigger: kidnapping.

It's a dark night a couple days later. Christina and I have our lantern on, and it feels warm and cozy in the tent. It's just the two of us, joking about how we're as sore as hell.

"You'd think we'd be used to it at this point," Christina says. She has an ointment from the medical station, and she's praying that it works. She opens it and I wrinkle my nose. It's foul smelling. I remember how Tobias smells like mint from the ointment he puts on his muscles. I'm suddenly more appreciative of it now as Christina generously covers herself in it.

"This shall scare off any enemies," she says placidly, probably just to keep herself cheerful despite the fact that she hates smelling bad.

I back away. She sighs and says, "I understand that, so I won't get mad."

Good. The last thing I need is my tentmate's wrath.

There's a sound outside the tent that catches my ear and makes me sit up, look to the door flaps. Someone is outside, and I call for them to come in.

It's Tobias, and Christina looks at him with an ashen face. I almost laugh. He's dark in the entrance of our little home, and he is startling to her. But he grins and says, "Argo."

"Eaton," Christina says, her voice sounding more surprised than anything.

"What is it?" I say, sitting cross-legged. I'm wearing my regular tank and tan pants and my hair is out. I catch how he just looks at me for a second before he says, "I wanna show you something."

I don't ask what; I just get up and bending over, make my way out of the tent. He steps back and I get out. Christina gives us a secret nod as the tent flaps fall back into place. She'll keep this a secret. Tobias knows she will, too.

It's late, but not late enough that there's curfew to worry about. No one is out in the fields; they're all groaning and moaning and rubbing their sore limbs in their tents, feeling sorry for themselves. But not me. Tobias has my hand and we're walking. Walking fast, but it's not bad on my body. I feel light, curious at what he has to show me.

"So, what is it?" I say, almost trying to sound casual.

"Don't worry about it. Just look ahead," he says.

I look forward and crane my neck around as we come to a hilltop at the edge of camp. The edge of the camp slips away in the hill, and we just stand there for a moment. Before us is dark grass, patches of it, sand and dirt mixed together. A lone pond to our left. A few pine trees.

He tugs on my hand and he sits down and I realize what to do, and I roll onto my back and put my hands behind my head.

I turn my head to him. He's on his side, his head supported by his hand, his elbow bent.

"Look up," he says, his voice a wisp in the wind.

I look up and in the dark blue night, I see stars. Bright and sparkling and twinkling, like little diamonds set into a long piece of dark fabric. There's the moon there, also, and my breath is taken away. I almost sit up, surprised by what I see.

"Haven't you ever seen stars like this before?" Tobias says. I turn to see him lying down with his head cradled in his hands.

I shake my head. "I used to live in the city. There wasn't many places or much time to just go and look at the stars."

"That's what's nice about being out here. You're away from distractions, from real life, almost. Just a few things to think about doing," Tobias says. His voice is warm and soft. "It is nice, isn't it?"

"It's wonderful," I say. It's not so dark that I can't see his eyelashes against his dark eyes, the bags beneath them, or the hook of his nose, the firmness of his gaze. "Thank you for taking me out here," I murmur.

"I figured it'd be a good change of pace," he says. "I'd actually like to see you, you know, instead of just feel you in the darkness."

I just stare at him for a moment and wonder what it would be like to wake up to this face every morning. What it would be like to live with him all the time, do couple things. Be out in the real world with him.

"Where are we going with this?" I whisper.

He's quiet for a moment, his eyes just memorizing me, taking me all in. "Our relationship, Tris?"

"Yes," I say. I sit up, wringing my hands, throwing them about. "I mean, what do we do after I graduate from here? I'm sure to get a position in some fort. You'll be stuck here, unless you quit because I'm not here anymore. But . . . I don't even know where you live." I turn to see he's sitting up as well. I cock my head. "Where do you live?" It's strange, not having basic information about him but having seen his most terrible issues.

"Chicago," he says.

I'm startled. "I live there too."

"Really? That's convenient," Tobias says, flashing me a small smile.

"Ever been to the Ferris wheel at Navy Pier?" I say, sitting up and bringing my knees to my chest, holding them there with my arms.

"Ah. No. Never," he says.

"Why not? It's an attraction that's pretty famous," I say.

He looks at me and says, "I'm terrified of heights."

"You are?" I say, surprised. He doesn't look like someone who would be afraid of heights. He looks like someone who would be able to beat down any fear he had of something and then kick its ass.

"Yeah," he says. He leans forward a little and says quietly, "And, Tris, what are you afraid of? What is one of your fears?"

I gulp and look away. I'm not sure. I haven't been thinking of myself all these days I've been here. Well, physically, yes, but I haven't thought of anything like that. Not something intuitive.

I think of anything I've ever been scared of. There was once a spider I thought terrifying. Once I had a nightmare that I was being burned by my friends and family. I had woken up in a cold sweat, and . . . I was scared.

"I . . . I'm scared of . . . I think of people I love joining against me, trying to take me out," I say, looking to Tobias. "If that makes sense."

He nods. "It does."

"And . . ." I remember once Caleb had broken his ankle and I had gone berserk. We had been blocks from home and I didn't know what to do. I hadn't been worried about his ankle. I was scared of how we would get home, how we would fix him.

I shudder at the memory, of how cold fear had latched onto me, my insides worrying and my heart pounding and the feeling of wanting to curl into a little ball enveloping me.

"I'm afraid of losing control," I say. "Of not being able to control a situation." And I notice that Tobias is only a few inches from me, and a sudden image, a filthy image, fills my mind, and I back away from him.

My breath is heavy when I see something clear in his eyes, like they were foggy and now he's realized something and they're full of clarity.

"Do you think this is one of those situations?" he says.

"I don't know" is all I can think of to say as I rapidly take everything in my mind, truly processing what is happening instead of experiencing it.

He clears his throat. "Can you control this situation?"

"I can't control you," I say. I exhale. "So I can't control this situation."

"What are you afraid I might do?" Tobias says. His voice sends a chill through me. Something makes him duck his head and let out an "oh."

That "oh" scares me. I swallow and say, "What?"

"You think that I can control myself, that I can control myself to do things with you, with my body," he says this slowly, but matter-of-factly, as if he knows exactly what I'm thinking and just wants to make sure that I'm following.

A realization hits me and I turn away, and I'm sure I'm blushing now. That's it, isn't it? I'm afraid of having him with me in the most intimate way. I'm scared of what might happen.

"Tris," he says. He leans toward me a bit, not so much that I shrink away from him. "Hey, Tris. Look at me."

I take a deep breath and hope the blush isn't visible. And I turn to him.

His eyes, which are very dark, are visible in the moonlight. There's a brightness in them, almost like a fervor for something, and he says very quietly, "We're not doing anything like that."

"I knew that," I say, my voice probably giving me away.

He sits back, his legs bent slightly, his arms relaxed on them. He looks off towards the sky and the pond and the field and says, "Well, I just wanted you to know that I know. I'm not going to put you in a position in which you don't feel comfortable." He looks at me. "Or you're scared of me."

Before I can say anything more he stands up and says, offering his hand, "Let's get you back to your tent."

And this little outing is ruined because I have a fear of having sex. How wonderful.

I'm silent as Tobias walks me back to my tent. I notice that he doesn't just let me go at his office but makes sure I get back. It's not that I need a bodyguard; I think it's just meant to be a nice gesture. Not something I deserve.

I go in in a sort of daze. Christina sits up like a zombie, without her arms supporting her.

"How'd it go?" she wants to know, rubbing the sleep out of her eyes.

I get in my sleeping bag, ignoring her, and zip it up as close as I can to my chin. I feel like a caterpillar stuck in a cocoon, and I don't want to leave to become a butterfly. I just want the warmth to surround me always and keep me here.

"Could have gone better," I finally say, when I realize she's still waiting for an answer.

"Sounds bad," Christina says tartly. "Who offended the other?"

I have to reveal my words in a way that gives her information and yet doesn't. I let out a sigh. "We didn't offend each other." Or did I him? "If one of us is the victim, it's going to be him."

Christina slips back into her sleeping bag, saying wonderingly, "What did you do now to offend a drill sergeant?"

The answer is simple and embarrassing. I don't want to be near him.

The next few days are quiet for me. There're the usual companies of soldiers playing against the others. I'm in several situations that are simulations of what can actually happen. I'm wounded, shot, abducted, tortured, tied up, gagged, yelled at, bribed, and murdered. I get dragged around almost like a dummy when my team has to save me. I come out bruised and rubbing my back, which Christina then is determined to crack.

The competitions against the companies are like the first one in some ways: while it usually isn't raining, my company wins more times than not. Peter is in my company, but he is usually offended if someone is the winner for us when it's not him. But when it's him, it's all he thinks about. Peter won, Peter won. And he wears a stupidly proud grin on his face that Christina feels honor-bound to punch off his face.

"It would teach him a lesson in humility," she says.

One day, after a lesson in combat, I have to hold her arms back and drag her away as much as I can, seeing as I can't get Will, who is spitting out words faster than a debater, away from Peter, who is poking him in the chest and lording over him like a boxer over a fallen opponent.

We won again, and Christina had been the one to save us all. She hit a sniper who was about to take out Marlene, who was part of a crucial party in getting back an army leader in a secret mission. Peter said he had been the one to save her. But I saw Christina do it. Will did as well, and we've gotten tired of Peter's bullshit long ago. I would not have gone after him but Christina went for the first punch, and that's when I knew I had to do something.

"I did it, I shot the sniper. She's lying, and that's the damn true!" Peter says, poking Will enough to make him stagger.

"I saw with my own eyes the shot that saved Marlene, and it WASN'T from your gun!" Will says, catching his balance.

Christina is grinding her teeth. She's bigger than I am, and angrier. But I've got a stronger will, and I hold tight, taking a step back when I can.

"Your eyesight needs to get checked out. Don't you wear glasses, four-eyes?" Peter says.

"They're reading glasses," Will says hotly.

Peter ignores him. "Who are you to say that you saw that when you can barely see—"

And I should have tried to get to Will, because he's about to throw a punch. Peter's about to beat him to it, literally, when Tobias comes jogging up, scowling as he shoves the two of them apart and says, "Soldiers! Stop it before charges are made!" Will steps back, stares at Peter, who doesn't look ashamed.

Tobias scoffs. "The next one to throw a punch is getting thrown out on dishonorable discharge. And believe me, that will ruin you for the rest of your life." He turns away and catches me holding tightly to Christina, who still has rolling anger inside her, and, in the Christina way, it is showing out for the entire world to see.

Tobias looks at us with the same scowl, the same raised eyebrows, dark eyes, unpleasantly turned lips. "Same goes for you two, Argo, Prior. One foot out of line and you're gone."

I drop Christina when he passes and stare at the ground.

"Ugh," Christina says, and Peter scowls and flips the three of us off and Will is the one who grabs Christina's arm before she can punch the back of his head as he walks away.

The look on Tobias's face haunts me as I walk to the showers to clean up. Was that a face he put on to throw Peter off track, so I wasn't shown favoritism, or was it real? Was he really annoyed with me?

Part of me is annoyed with myself and is empathetic to him if that were the truth. The other part is boiling mad at him. I haven't done anything wrong. Being myself is never something wrong.

There's a noise outside my tent.

It's not Tobias, I know. He would never come walking through the fields in the middle of the night to come talk to me. He would have called a meeting.

It's two in the morning. I used to stay up this late, silently rebelling against my parents' curfew. After joining the army, though, I look forward to every bit of sleep I can get. All seven and a half hours of it.

I'm tired but alert. Something is walking around my tent. I don't know what or who; my first thought is some small animal, or maybe a trained big dog, but the footsteps are careful, too careful. Human. It must be one of the recruits, because I know it's not my mind playing tricks on me. I had been in a dark black dream with nothing but nothingness, and then a noise had woken me. Something out of the ordinary, something that sounds real.

Christina is sleeping like a bear in winter in her sleeping bag, in one of the three phases of sleep. I reach to wake her up when something darts through into my tent. A hand goes over my mouth, and I can't scream. The hand is large and cutting me off. The voice in me cries out and stays in my throat, and it tries to rip through as I flail and try punching the person gagging me as the person drags me out. Keeping its hand on me, I get punched, hard, in the face, and I still struggle. There's blood running from my nose.

Is this some sort of strange training exercise nobody told me about? Something about trying to kidnap people in the middle of the night for the other soldiers to find later?

I still struggle. I still try to get myself free, fear arresting my insides, the feeling of helplessness taking over me, and the next punch comes and it's enough as things turn to darkness.

A little nod to the original Divergent with this startling new development.

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