Tris's POV *Same Time*
I am completely and utterly dumbfounded as I walk back to my apartment. Not that Harley would do something like this, no, that doesn't surprise me at all, but by my own anger towards her. I've never done anything to Harley to deserve all the hatred she's thrown my way from the very beginning. I allowed her to train under me to be a cop when her last job didn't work out, and she hasn't so much as thanked me. She's only ever been rude and vindictive, and I don't understand.
I know that some people just don't like other people in general, but Harley seems to treat everyone but me in a somewhat okay manner. And the fact that she doesn't like me isn't what bothers me; lots of people don't like me, and I don't need to be liked. In fact, in most cases, I'm not liked. It just bothers me that I don't know why she doesn't like me. I understand why other people dislike me. But not her, not when I've gone out of my way to help her.
My puzzled thoughts are interrupted as I walk straight into someone. Their warm cotton shirt presses against my cheek, and I stumble backwards. As I step away I get a whiff of a distinct smell, one of laundry detergent and a hint of apples. Uriah.
"Woah," he says in a modulated voice. He grips my shoulders, smiling down at me reassuringly.
"Sorry," I say, blinking a couple times to pull myself back into reality.
"S'okay." Uriah grins. "Are you alright?" He asks, joining my side as I begin to walk again.
"Yeah, fine," I nod. "Why?"
"I don't know," he shrugs. "You just look sort of flustered."
"Yeah well, having a vindictive bitch have you suspended will do that to you." I snap, then instantly apologize. "Sorry, that wasn't aimed at you."
"S'okay." Uriah says again, laughing lightly.
"You want to come in?" I nod towards Tobias and my apartment as we come to it.
"Sure." Uriah nods.
I pull the door open and grab us a couple drink from the fridge, trying to put off thinking about how long it's been since we were last able to just hangout like this. It's been a long time.
"Thanks." Uriah takes the perspiring bottle from my hand as he sits down on the couch. I sit down on the other side of the couch, pulling my feet up and resting them on the crease between the two cushions that make up the couch's seat. Uriah does the same, our toes brushing softly against each others. Somehow, it feels normal.
"So, you were saying something about a vindictive bitch?" Uriah asks, taking a gulp of his drink.
I nod and give him a quick synopsis of the previous events. Uriah listens patiently, nodding his head slowly as he listens. He's a good listener. You can tell by the way his warm eyes meet yours that he isn't just nodding to move the story along, but that he's actually listening. Despite his mirthful personality, when you need him to listen he does, and he takes your words seriously. It's nice.
When I'm done he takes one more gulp of his drink, silent for another minute before he speaks. "I think I can help." He finally says.
"You know a redhead exterminator?" I smirk, feeling especially hateful.
He laughs. "No, I just have a job you could do for the next month, while you're suspended." He says.
"Enlighten me." I spread my arms open in an all encompassing manner.
"Well, Four didn't want to train initiates this year, and the job usually goes to someone in the control room, so I volunteered. And they let me have someone else help, if I want someone." He explains.
"Uriah, are you asking me to train initiates with you?" I ask coyly, turning my head slightly to the left.
"Why yes, yes I am." Uriah nods, breaking into a grin.
I hesitate before I answer, unsure of whether or not we've healed enough in our relationship to be around each other this much. In the end, it's his grin that assures me that we have. He wouldn't ask me if he wasn't sure that we could do it, and if he's sure, that's good enough for me.
"I'm in," I say, my smile growing simply because of how happy he looks.
"Fabulous!" Uriah laughs. Excitement grows in my stomach, sending little flutters through me.
"To showing a bunch of snarky sixteen year olds how to stand up for each other." I say, holding my glass up to propose a toast. We both lean forward until our knees press against our chests and our knees just touch.
"To the adrenaline they'll get when they jump off their first train." Uriah continues my cheer, his glass still against mine.
"To capture the flag and zip lining." I say.
"To their first tattoos." Uriah adds.
"To learning to control ones fears." I keep going. There's a slight nostalgia attached to our words, to the wonderful and terrible memories of initiation.
"To Dauntless!" Uriah clinks his glass against mine again in finish.
"To Dauntless!" I agree, pulling the glass back and finishing the last gulp.
Despite the fact that Harley's actions are still lingering in the back of my mind, I spend the rest of the day blanketed by the thought that I have a real chance to do something, to show a whole group of people what Dauntless is about. That it isn't about wearing black and getting tattoos; it isn't about being reckless. I have a chance to show them that being Dauntless, in the way that it was meant to be, is about standing up for each other and the ordinary amounts of bravery it takes to do it.
