A/N: Let me know what you think of this chapter. I love getting reviews and pm's from my readers.

Thanks again to Eunice339 for the beta work.

Eric sits with his feet up on the table, laughing hysterically at the end of my story. "He really said that?"

I snicker before downing a mouthful from the bottle of whiskey we are sharing. "Do you really think I could make this shit up?"

"With that pea brain of yours?" Eric snorts, loving every insult aimed at me that I let roll off my back.

"Seriously, though. What did you give her? She looks like a friggin' Easter egg. I've never seen a serum do that before."

"Oh, you're gonna love the irony of this. It was designed by Erudite about six months ago. It's supposed to save lives, but if the anti-serum isn't administered, it literally makes your insides blow up."

"How the hell does it do that?"

Eric stands, steadying himself with the help of the table, before taking several wobbly steps to join me on the bench I'm sitting on. He wraps his arm around the back of my neck, resting his wrist on my shoulder. "Get this. The serum takes the place of a blood transfusion. You know how we never collected enough blood during our blood drives? Well, this stuff clones your blood cells so you won't need a transfusion. The more you need, the longer you wait to administer the stalling agent. But…" He struggles to keep his head up and his eyes on mine after he guzzles another few ounces of alcohol. "It won't stop on its own. It just continues to clone the cells. So if you don't stop it, you literally overload your organs. One of the first signs that you have too much blood running through your system is the pinking of the skin. Oh, and did I mention how painful it is?"

The fact that this serum is only six months old puts me into a cold sweat. "So, you are still working with Erudite?"

"Why wouldn't I? They have the best toys."

I clench my fists by my sides, praying Eric doesn't pick up on my disgust. "That's it? You're just going to let the serum kill her? Doesn't really sound like you."

"No way. You know I have to pull the trigger myself. I'm just letting her suffer a little bit first. I'll stop the serum before any vital organs blow." Eric lets out a throaty laugh.

"Then you have the anti-serum?" I ask, trying to sound like it makes no difference to me.

"Of course. After I give it to her, she'll be back to normal within an hour or two. Once she is no longer hoping for death, then I'll kill her."

"God, you are brutal." I raise the bottle over my head. "To the end of the Wright bloodline." I take a quick sip and pass it back to Eric. There is very little left now, and I know he will chug the last of it.

Just as I thought, Eric tips the bottle back, and gulps until the bottle is empty. He belches louder than I thought humanly possible and judging by the way his pupils bounce, he's pretty shit-faced. I don't have time to wait for him to pass out, nor do I have the ability to drink much more before I'm useless. At the first chance I get, I stand and slam my elbow into his face. He falls backward off the bench, out cold.

"Sorry, brother." I kneel down beside him, searching his pockets frantically, but to no avail. Of course he doesn't have the anti-serum on him. That would be too easy. It could be anywhere. I don't have much time and I'm worried about Tris. I have to check on her before I start what could be a futile search. Maybe the quickest way to get my hands on it, is just to beat the answers out of Eric. Considering how hard I hit him, I should have plenty of time to check on Tris before he comes to.

I may not have the antidote, but I did find the keys to the cell doors, and while I was crouched by Eric's unconscious body, I collected one of the bottle caps from the beer we drank before we hit the hard stuff. This is certainly not the ideal tool, but it will get the job done.

I start running through the stone hallways. On the way in I memorized several landmarks, to guarantee I could find my way back to the dungeon, but the alcohol in my system is messing with my memory, not to mention my equilibrium.

Every doorway looks the same and I second-guess myself for a moment - that is until I see a fire extinguisher on the wall. I remember thinking it looked out of place against the stone hallway. It's enough to confirm I'm going the right way, so I continue running forward.

I turn another corner, and to my relief, the huge metal door blocks my path up ahead; I made it back to the dungeon where Tris is being kept.

My fingers fumble to retrieve the keys from my pocket. I would have preferred the cure for Tris, but at the moment I'm grateful just to have the keys.

The door swings open and I rush to the end cell where I last saw Tris. I jam the key into the lock and twist my wrist. At first glance she looks dead. My whole body seems to go numb for a moment, until she lifts her head to look at me.

In a few short steps, I drop to the ground, crouching by her side.

"Four?" Her eyes are filled with pools of tears and I doubt she can see me clearly.

"Yes! Yes, it's me. Please don't hate me for doing this. If we had any other option, I would take it." I grab one of her arms in my left hand.

Tris watches me intently. I wish I knew what she was thinking. Does she know that my earlier behavior was all an act for Eric's benefit? It's painful to think she could possibly believe I'd ever hurt her, though what I'm about to do certainly won't restore her trust in me.

With trembling hands, I pull the bottle cap out of my shirt pocket and with one smooth gesture, scrape it hard across her wrist. Her eyes widen in pain and horror as blood starts to gush from the gash and collect in her palm.

"You really do want me dead." Tears roll down her cheeks and I'm choked up. It wasn't a question, but a statement.

"No…"

Before I can reassure her, a steady clapping captures my attention. Eric walks through the cell door. His nose is crooked and still dripping blood; I did a good job breaking it, but I don't feel guilty for the bout of pleasure I get seeing him like this.

"Well, well, well. You really are the king of backstabbers now, aren't you? I hope you don't believe that I fell for your shit. I knew it was an act all along." Eric's gaze falls to Tris and the puddle of blood collecting by her side. "If you think that will save her, you're wrong. It may buy you a few hours, but that's about it. Not your smartest move. Then again, you were never known for your brains."

My first instinct is to jump up and pounce on him, but considering he now holds a semi-automatic pistol, I have to fight back the overpowering urge to ram my fist into his throat.

"I should have just killed you a long time ago." Eric lifts his weapon and aims it at my head. "Say goodbye, asshole."

Many people claim their whole life flashes before their eyes when they are about to die, but that didn't happen to me. Only part of my life replayed in my head. Either that means I'm not going to die, or most of my life is not worth remembering during my final moments…

Everyone was congratulating me as I walked back to the barracks. My friends slapped my shoulders and chanted "Four, Four, Four" as I passed. Even people I didn't know very well lined up to shake my hand. I guess this was a big deal to them, but to me it was just unnecessary attention.

When I finally escaped the crowd, I flung myself on my bunk, and pulled the newsletter out of my pocket. I had to read it again, maybe this time I would understand what all the fuss was about.

I scanned through the first paragraph that described the most recent promotions and recognized several of the names. I was genuinely happy for them. But it was the next paragraph that had me scratching my head.

'Please join us in congratulating Sergeant Tobias Eaton as he becomes the fourth and youngest soldier to ever earn the Iron Soldier Award. The only way to earn this prestigious award is to receive special recognition in each of the five factions of service. Sergeant Eaton had previously earned the special recognitions for bravery, selflessness, intelligence and honesty and was marked with the corresponding honorary tattoos.

At our monthly leadership meeting held this week, the final faction, that honors kindness in the midst of war, unanimously voted Sergeant Eaton to receive this final special recognition. It is very easy to forget that we are much more than the world's most dangerous soldiers. We should also strive to be some of the world's greatest human beings and role models to the next generation.

Thank you, Sergeant Eaton, for being a perfect example of what we should all strive to be.

A dinner in his honor will be held Friday evening at 1800 hours in the main mess hall where his achievements will be recorded in The Book of Honors.'

I shook my head, a little shocked by the huge fuss being made over this. I had struggled with being kind since the day I enlisted. Kindness was not something I had a lot of in my childhood. It wasn't easy to be kind when you had so much built up anger inside. But at some point, I was able to do the right thing with the right person watching, and now I was being honored for something I wasn't. I had considered turning down the award, but I knew Amar would have my head on a platter if I did.

"Ahem." I jumped to attention when I saw Max, the head of Dauntless Leadership, standing at the foot of my cot. "At ease, soldier."

My salute dropped and my shoulders sunk down a little, but I wouldn't say I was completely at ease. Max only paid you a visit for one reason, when you were in deep shit. "To what do I owe the honor of your visit, Sir?"

"I was notified of your Iron Soldier status." Max paced in front of me, staring down at the floor. "That's an impressive achievement. You're only the fourth in the world."

"Sir, yes, Sir."

"I wanted to ask what you have planned for your future. I noticed you still haven't signed the new contract, nor have you had your Dauntless tattoo converted to our new colors. Do you want to tell me why?"

My throat went dry. How could I tell my commanding officer that his most recent decisions made me want to vomit and I had no intention of re-enlisting in the new Dauntless? The last few weeks had already been bad enough, but once the changes became official, it would only get worse. "Sir, I have not had a chance to look over the complete contract yet."

"Well, you really need to make time. Several of the leaders have mentioned promoting you to leadership training." Max finally looked up, locking his eyes with mine. "Another great honor for someone your age."

I couldn't help but shake my head. "Wow, this is quite the honor, Sir, and something I will seriously consider when looking over the contract."

"Are you aware that Saturday is the deadline? Anyone who hasn't signed by then will be arrested for treason."

"Treason, Sir? We don't even work for the government anymore."

"Treason against your brothers, is just as bad as treason against your country. When you joined Dauntless you agreed to be bound to Dauntless Law for the rest of your life."

"Yes, Sir, but with the understanding that Dauntless was run by the US military." My palms moistened with sweat as I tried to stay calm and keep my voice respectful.

"That was never a stipulation of the original contract. I want your paperwork on my desk by Saturday, 1200 hours. Do you have a problem with that, soldier?" His voice was back to demanding respect.

"Sir, no, Sir." I saluted him again as he walked away.

"Shit!" I didn't mean to say that out loud, and luckily I didn't say it loud enough for Max to hear.