Disclaimer: Ya'll, I'm cramming for my PSAT in three days. Don't think that's what Veronica Roth, the actual owner of Divergent, is doing. So, I'm not Veronica Roth. Clearly. Because I still have to deal with standardized exams.

A/N: It's been way too long since I've updated this. Close to a month and a half. Sorry about that - school plus driving lessons plus foreign language classes plus marching band practice plus Saturday marching band competitions equals a perpetual state of tiredness. This weekend is the first time I've been able to think straight since early September.

Here is my new regular warning: Please be aware of the content warning I put in the author's note of Chapter 1 of this fic. This will revisit the theme that I touched on in Chapter 21. Fortunately, this will probably be the last time I do any more than skim the topic.

Without further ado, let's move onto the chapter!

"Did you have fun tonight?"

Rowan's voice is the first thing, other than our footsteps, to break the peaceful silence in a little while.

"Yeah. I did." I meet Rowan's eyes as he asks, smiling slightly at his clear nervousness. I don't know why he's nervous about the two of us leaving our little rankings celebration early, but I'll at least do my best to comfort him. "It was a lot of fun, but it couldn't compare to the zipline."

Rowan snorts. "I don't think anything could compare to that experience. I still don't know if I'd call it fun or terrifying."

"The terror was what made it extremely fun!" I counter.

"We'll agree to disagree."

Our conversation fizzles out, and I find my mind drifting through the events of the past few hours.

All in all, it was a great night. The Dauntless-borns dragged us to Kian and Chloe's former home - they would be moving out after initiation - assuring us, or mostly me, that no, we weren't imposing on them or their parents, because their parents were out for the night, like they were every single Wednesday without fail for as long as they could remember.

Then, they brought out some snacks, and we started playing games. The pure, untainted happiness induced from playing rounds and rounds of wilder games, like Charades or Candor or Dauntless, to a rare few tamer ones, like Telephone, made my heart soar.

They were about to start rounds of Never Have I Ever - with pickle juice instead of alcohol, the norm in Dauntless, because Kian and Chloe's parents were apparently strict on their 'no alcohol until you're a full member' rule - when I got up, claimed to be tired, and left with Rowan, who insisted on walking me back, despite my protests.

"Uh, Cammi?" Rowan's quiet voice brings me out of my reminiscing. I turn my head to make eye contact with him again, and feel something in my stomach turn when his gaze touches mine again.

"Hmm?" I hum in acknowledgement, but don't respond, not wanting the relative quiet of the compound, at least compared to the compound in the daytime, to go away.

"I j-just wanted to say…" He hesitates, opening and closing his mouth two or three times, but eventually seems to regain his voice. "...Y-You look really nice tonight."

I know it's girlish and silly, but my heart leaps even higher at his surprising words. Unfortunately, they also generate a brilliant red blush that I'm hoping he doesn't see.

"Oh, um, thanks!" I turn my head away from him, staring down my relatively plain, but apparently nice, outfit as we walk, so he doesn't see the small smile that has settled on my face, maybe permanently.

After being insulted by Marcus on a lot of things, especially my appearance, it's nice to hear that someone, other than my brother, sincerely likes how I look.

And I just know that Rowan is sincere; it shows in his anxiety-filled voice, his fidgeting fingers, and, most of all, his hazel eyes, even in the flecks of gold.

Another few minutes pass; we walk silently but comfortably, and the blush on my cheeks reduces to the point where I can look at Rowan again.

But it doesn't stay that way for much longer.

Suddenly, I spot someone, wearing full black clothes and a black mask, jump out of the shadows behind us in my peripherals. I wheel around, fists raised in a defensive posture, but he completely ignores me. Instead, he goes for Rowan.

As fast as a cheetah, he tackles Rowan to the ground. My heart rate spikes as Rowan cries out. But before I can move another muscle, the person - presumably a man, based on his physique - raises his fist and brings it down on Rowan's head. Rowan's eyes roll back in his head, and he falls limp. Unconscious.

A strangled sound cuts through the air. It takes me a second to realize that I am the one who made it.

The man gets up slowly, then turns to me. For one long second, he stares at me, and I stare at him.

The only feature of him that's visible are his eyes. They're a distinct shade of light blue that spark vague familiarity in me.

Where have I seen those eyes before?

And then, a flash of memory comes to me.

"Oh, no, young lady." His icy blue eyes bore into me intensely. "The fault is entirely mine."

It's the man. The man who was watching me on the day we went ziplining. The man who I ran into at the tattoo shop.

The man who just knocked out one of my friends.

The realization makes me freeze in place; this man knocked out Rowan, the second-ranked in his group physically, with ease. And now, his attention is on me.

Even without his element of surprise, I can't take him. He's got at least half a foot on me, and, if his knockout punch to Rowan was any indication, he's strong.

But I have to try, for both my sake and Rowan's. But not here. Not now.

In Dauntless, backing down from a fight is cowardly. But that's a problem with the people of this faction; their need to prove themselves ranks above their good reason.

I am partially Dauntless. That never-back-down attitude is a part of me, too. But I also have the relative rationality of the Abnegation, and I can see past some lines that the regular Dauntless cannot.

I don't want to leave Rowan here, knocked out on a cold stone floor. He deserves better.

But if I try to fight this man here, there's a possibility, however slight, that Rowan could get hurt. There's also the possibility that the man could use him against me. And I know that if this man asked me to come with him to ensure Rowan's safety, I'd do it in a heartbeat.

I need to lead this man away from here. I need to buy Rowan enough time to wake up and get out of here, to the infirmary, preferably.

Not that Rowan would do that. He would probably run after the man and I and try to fight him, even if he was woozy from a potential concussion. And I wouldn't be able to say anything about it without sounding like a huge hypocrite, because I know I would do that too.

Less thinking, more moving right now.

I finally come to my senses, and take a slow step backwards, careful to not expose my back to him.

"Now, young lady." His voice is almost a purr, and the tone sends chills down my spine. "Where do you think you're going?"

"Away from you." I try to sound confident, but I can hear the waiver of fear in my voice, as clear as day. And he probably can, too.

The man takes a step forward. Instinctively, I take one step back. "I'm afraid," the man speaks slowly, dramatically, as though he is in a play. "That I can't let that happen, Camilla."

What the hell?

How does he know my full first name?

Questions later. I remind myself firmly, the trembling of my tense muscles pulling me back to the situation at hand. Get out now.

"You see, I have waited far too long for this." He takes another step towards me. Instinctively, I step back again.

I catch it a split second before it happens. My sharp eyes catch the shifting of his weight, that basically gives away his intentions. But he's lightning fast - there isn't enough time for me to do anything more than tense before he leaps, a lot like the occasional bobcat seen around the city, leaping at small animals - leaping at their prey.

Right now, I am the prey.

I hardly move before he's on me, and suddenly I'm falling - a split second of gravity taking over, and then my head meets the hard stone floor with a vicious crack.

And my cranium explodes.

Pain. It's all I can feel. If someone forced my head down into a vat of fire, then this is how I imagine it would feel.

Pain. It fills my head faster than I could ever say 'ow'. For a terrifying second, it turns my vision bright white.

Pain has been a constant companion my whole life. All the way from when I was young, not even in school yet, and I scraped my knee on a walk with my mother and Tobias, to when I lost my mother, half of my life and light, to when Marcus' beatings, formerly inflicted on Evelyn, fell on the backs of my brother and I.

But this kind of pain, it's unprecedented. Marcus hardly ever went for the head intentionally, probably because any injury inflicted there would be visible to everyone. I don't think I've ever hit my head this hard before. I'm not used to it, and it scares me.

Injuries to my back, my stomach, or even my arms and legs are, sadly, familiar. If I got one of those, I would know what to do.

But right now, I just hurt my head. I can hardly think straight, yet alone move.

Distantly, I realize that there is someone, heavier than me, holding down my arms and legs.

Wait. Panic courses rapidly through me, flooding my veins. It quickly clears up some, if not all, of the fog residing in my cloudy brain. Someone's on top of me.

They hurt me.

I force my eyes open, ignoring how the new stimuli sends another searing hot wave of pain through my head. The first thing I notice is those icy blue eyes.

It's that guy.

He's currently holding me down.

Like Julia did in the fights.

Like Marcus did when- when-

Shut up, brain. The last thing I need right now is a panic attack.

Somehow, my brain-to-mouth connection is still intact enough for me to croak out, "Who are you? What do you want?"

The little skin visible around his eyes crinkle slightly. He's smiling.

Smiling.

I wiggle my wrist a little, to test how tight his hold is. It's pretty solid.

"You see, Stiff." The derogatory term makes me grit my teeth as I stare up at his stupid masked face. "I've been watching you, ever since I first saw you." Stalker, much? "Just a skinny little Abnegation transfer who thought she was good enough for Dauntless."

If I don't, I'm going to be forever remembered as the weak Abnegation girl who thought she was good enough for Dauntless.

The memory comes to me, unbidden. His words almost replicate my thoughts when I was getting ready to jump off that train for the first time. When I was just an Abnegation transfer, the only one courageous enough to transfer to the faction of the brave.

When I wasn't trained to fight.

I just have to wait for the right opportunity.

So, I clamp down on and lock up my panic. None of it can get out, not if I want to get out of this.

Emotions can go on hold, as unhealthy as that might be. But action can't.

I shake my leg a little, then the other one, and resist the urge to sigh in relief. Bingo. His hold on my legs isn't enough to keep me down.

He underestimates me. His mistake.

So, I listen. And I wait.

"You have something I want. And now is the perfect time to take it." The words make the insistent prickles of fear running down my back intensify, but I manage to keep my expression the same. "As for my name, well," If he wasn't smirking before, he certainly is now, "You can call me-"

He shifts a little to the left. Now. Before he can finish, I jerk my left leg out from under his, making him take his left hand off of my arm to compensate. He looks shocked that I interrupted his monologue. But he won't stay that way for much longer. So, I make the most of my advantage, by jerking my other leg out too, and using that knee to hit him in the crotch.

His expression shifts into one of agony, so he doesn't notice when I ball up my left hand and throw it at him.

It impacts with the side of his face, making it jerk to the side. Before he can recover, I free my last limb, my right arm, and push him hard, scrambling to get him off of me.

Once he's off, I stumble to my feet, almost losing my balance several times. In the blur of motion, I notice a little bit of blood on the floor, where my head was, and wince. That impact must have affected my coordination more than I'd like it to.

It takes me a moment to regain my balance, but once I do, I immediately take off running, away from Rowan and the man.

Or, at least, I try to. I don't take more than ten steps before something yanks on my ankle, bringing me crashing onto the floor again. This time, I land face-first, and a fountain of pain erupts in my nose.

No, no, no. The panic begins to leak out of its little box in my brain. I'm flipped on my back, and, suddenly I'm in the same position I was before, pinned down by the man. Only, this time, fury glints in his malicious light blue eyes. And my legs are pinned down more firmly than before, cutting off that escape route.

"You." He snarls, the side of his face starting to bruise. "I should have expected this of you. Spunky one, aren't you?"

I don't grace him with an answer. Instead, I just bare my teeth at him, trying to keep up my confident, fearless facade, although it has already begun falling apart from the inside.

A drop of blood from my smashed nose rolls down the side of my face.

He just chuckles at my expression. "Poor, poor Camilla Eaton. A puppy trying to run with the big dogs."

Well, if that doesn't ignite my anger, nothing will.

I survived the first two phases of initiation. Several others, including some Dauntless-borns, didn't.

I may be born Abnegation, heck, I may still be part Abnegation, but I made my choice. I left the puppies behind.

But I don't want to rile up this man, who, currently, has control of the situation. As loath as I am to admit it, I'm scared of this man right now. Because I'm currently helpless against whatever he wants to do.

So, I sharpen my glare, and press my teeth together a little harder, but don't fire back a comment.

He doesn't seem to notice my incensed anger. If he does, he doesn't acknowledge it. "Where did I leave off again? Oh, right. You can call me J."

The man - J - sticks out one of his fingers from the hand holding my right arm, without losing his tight grip on my arm, and trails it along my side. The gesture makes me shiver, both in repulsion and fear. What does he want?

"You know, you may not belong in Dauntless, but you are good for one thing." My stomach turns. No, stop, please, no, whatever it is, no. I silently plead. He moves his head closer to my ear, and drops his voice. "You've got a nice body, Camilla."

No, no, no, absolutely not, anything but that, no. Images from my simulation, ones that I've been trying resolutely to push away in these past few days, all flash to the forefront of my mind. Not again. Never again.

Do I have the worst luck in the universe? Why is the power up there, whoever or whatever it is, if it exists, making me deal with this again? What did I do so wrong?

But he shifts his weight, so I'm still pinned, but with his elbows instead of his hands, and rips the front of my black shirt, and I'm still here, staring up at him with terrified eyes, all bravado and confidence gone, silently begging and pleading and praying that this isn't real, that this is somehow another simulation, that this won't actually happen.

And he stares back down, not into my eyes, but lower, with a hungry gaze that makes me want to vomit. I squeeze my eyes shut.

Oh, god, this is really happening, no, please no, stop-

I open my eyes again quickly, but the face above me isn't J's anymore.

It's Marcus'.

The box holding my panic finally breaks open completely. And I scream.

The shrill sound only rings through the hallway for only a second, before a calloused hand covers it. "Shut up, girl." A voice hisses, but not Marcus'. When I look back up, Marcus' face is flickering, changing between his face and a masked one with icy blue eyes.

At this point, I'm not quite sure who is pinning me down. All I know is that they're trying to hurt me like Marcus did. But my muscles feel like they're locked in place, so different to how hard I struggled the first time Marcus did it. I can't make myself move through the fog of my fear, not even as his hand touches my bra.

All I can do is repeat the same words in my head, over and over, a different sequence each time.

No, please, don't stop, please, stop, no, no, stop, no, please, stop, no-

The undergarment rips easily. No, no, no-

And the eyes of the flickering Marcus suddenly roll back in his head. Without warning, he collapses on top of me. Relief crashes through me, and the lock on my muscles is suddenly released. I scramble backwards, distantly aware of someone talking to me, but not listening. I attempt to kick the man, whoever it is, off of me weakly, and cross my arms over my exposed chest.

Deep breaths. I close my eyes and listen to the small voice, which sounds a lot like Tobias, in my head, greedily gulping the air. Only when I do that do I feel the burning of my lungs, now ceasing. I didn't realize I was hyperventilating.

I'm about to take another deep breath before I feel a hand rest on my back. My heart rate spikes, and my breathing starts to get a little shorter, erasing any progress my previous deep breath made. The touch is gentle, but I'm not fooled. No, no, he's back, no, stop, go away-

As soon as I start scooching backwards, the hand disappears, and I sigh in relief, hoping that he left, as naive as that is.

I continue taking deep breaths, focusing only on making the panic racing through me go down. As I take more breaths, everything starts to come into a little more focus. My heart rate goes down, and the previously blurry voice becomes clearer.

"Hey." My mystery savior says, keeping their voice low and soothing. But, even in my state, I catch a hint of desperation in their tone. "It's okay. Keep doing that. Keep breathing in and out. You're safe. It's okay. Nothing's going to happen to you, alright?"

Finally, after a few more deep breaths, my mind is mostly clear of the blinding panic that paralyzed me earlier. Now that I'm relatively calm, I finally find the courage to open my eyes.

The first thing I see is Rowan's hazel eyes, crouching in front of me, staring at me. When I open my eyes, he breaks into a small, comforting smile.

Rowan.

He saved me.

"Hey." He mutters, lifting a hand to place on my shoulder, but then hesitating. I remember, with embarrassment, that someone placed their hand on my back earlier, but it sent me into a panic. That was probably Rowan, just trying to comfort me.

"It's okay." My voice is too quiet, too weak, and I would normally hate anyone seeing me this beaten, but this is Rowan. With his knack of walking in at the least opportune moments, he's already seen me at some of my lowest points.

That doesn't mean I'm alright with him almost witnessing… that, but better Rowan than one of my other friends.

At those words, Rowan hesitates a second more, then places the hand on my shoulder.

The hand is warm, and comforting. Without even realizing what I'm doing, I move my head so my cheek rests on top of his hand.

Now, my cheek is warm too. I shift my gaze to his face. He looks surprised at the action. To be honest, I'm surprised at my move, too, but I think I get a pass for embarrassing behavior, after what just went down.

And suddenly, I realize that I'm still bare-chested. My ripped garments still lay on the ground a little bit away. Thankfully, my arms are still crossed tightly over my chest.

"C-Can you-" Some of my panic resurfaces at being so bare in front of Rowan, but, thankfully, it doesn't get out of control again.

"What do you need, Cammi?" Rowan asks. "I'll get it for you."

His words, meant to comfort me, instead send a wave of irrational terror through me. "No! Stay. Please."

"Don't worry." His voice is soft, placating. "I'm not going anywhere, okay? Not until you want me to."

I nod, sufficiently comforted. "C-Could you get something for me t-to… wear?" My question is tentative, small.

"Of course!" Rowan sounds horrified, but it doesn't seem to be directed at me. Instantly, he removes his hand from my shoulder, which leaves my shoulder and cheek cold again. He grasps the bottom of his own shirt and pulls it over his head. Then, he holds his shirt out to me. The action makes me blush, but Rowan seems unaffected. "Here, this should fit you for now. We can get you some real clothes later."

I don't reach for the shirt, knowing that doing so would require me to move one of my arms, exposing my upper body even more. Rowan, thank goodness, seems to read my mind, and places the shirt on the ground before turning around.

Quickly, I reach over and grab the shirt, and pull it on. It holds a compound of smells, much like Tobias does; something apple-scented, maybe a different type of soap, as well as a smell I can't identify.

But, honestly, even if it smelled like wet socks, I wouldn't care, because it would cover me up. The nice smell is just a convenience.

"I'm good." At my words, Rowan turns around again. I look only at his face, so my cheeks don't turn as red as tomatoes again.

His expression is concerned, but it doesn't have any pity in it. For that, I'm extremely thankful. I already feel weak; being pitied would only make me feel weaker. "Do you want me to walk you to the infirmary?"

I don't even have to think about it. I shake my head vigorously, twice, before I stop, the action hurting my head. "No. I don't want to go there." I don't want the infirmary staff seeing how badly I, a Dauntless initiate, got injured. One person seeing me weak tonight is enough.

"Okay. What about your brother's apartment?"

I take a second to think about it. Tobias. He knows everything - he knows what I was seeing tonight. He can take care of my injuries without making me feel weak. I'm safe with him.

I nod once. "Yes."

"Alright, then. Whenever you're ready."

He doesn't try to help me up, or even hold out his hand as an aid. For that, I'm grateful.

How does he know me so well already? Have I really spent that much time with him in the past few weeks?

Shakily, I lift myself onto my knees, then onto one leg, and, finally, into a standing position. Then, I take one step forward. I stumble a little, and promptly stick out my arms to retain my balance. The jerking of the almost-fall makes my head hurt a little, but I don't fall, at least. I smile a bit at the miniscule accomplishment.

Without another word, I start walking slowly, and still a little unsteadily, down the hall, with Rowan beside me.

Just as we're turning the corner, I risk a glance behind me. The man, J, lays on the ground, knocked out. Rowan probably woke up, saw what he was doing, crept up behind him, and hit him on the back of the head.

I turn away, unable to look at him anymore.

If Rowan hadn't gained consciousness when he did, what would have happened? Would I still be lying on the floor? Would he-

Stop. The increasingly distressed thoughts make my head spin. If I keep going with that line of thought, I'll hyperventilate, and I know I sometimes mumble random things when I'm in that state. Tobias has told me.

I can't do that right now, not with Rowan beside me. He doesn't know everything, and I don't want him to know.

It all comes back to fear, doesn't it? Once you strip away all the secrets and lies and walls, the fact is, I'm afraid. I'm afraid that once he finds out what else Marcus did to me, he'll look at me like dirt on the bottom of his shoe. I'm afraid he'll run far away from me, and never look back. It's a miracle he didn't do so when he initially found out about Marcus.

I've been hurt far too many times in my life. If I had one wish, I would ask for is a chance to see the light in the world again, the light that only ever seeped through when Marcus wasn't around, the light that I haven't seen, in full strength, for too many years. All I want is to not be hurt again, to live a happy life, with the people I love. Is that too much to ask for?

The thing is, I haven't trusted Marcus for a long, long time. And, while he still hurt us deeply, we learned to expect that of him.

But Rowan. He came into my life suddenly, like a storm, with his jokes and laughter and advice and easy-going attitude. Just like I did with Lavender, with Ethan, with Julia, with Juniper and Kian and Chloe, I opened up to him. He's become one of my closest friends, and if he were to look at me with hatred, with pure and utter contempt, just like Marcus did, I don't think I'd deal with it very well.

My vulnerability to hurt suddenly makes me want to laugh a little. The Dauntless always seem so strong, so unbreakable, and yet, when it comes down to it, they're just as susceptible to hurt as anyone else.

I came to Dauntless for so many reasons, including my desire to be stronger. I wanted to hide my scars, my past, under a layer of black, under a layer of courage. And I am stronger - I've gained enough weight to be considered healthy, albeit barely, and I've started gaining muscle definition in my arms, legs, and torso. But all of that is physical. Mentally, I'm only a little tougher than what I was in Abnegation.

That was the job of the fear sims - to toughen up the initiates mentally, so they could face anything. And don't get me wrong, those scared me. But how do you terrify someone who has spent the last sixteen years living in their own personal hell?

"Cammi." Rowan's patient voice breaks into my thoughts. I realize, with a start, that we're in front of Tobias' apartment door. "We're here."

"Oh, um, right." Suddenly, my arm feels like it's made of lead. But, somehow, I manage to lift it, and weakly knock three times.

After a second of waiting, the door opens, revealing Tobias. "Rowan? What are you- Cam!" My brother immediately steps out of the apartment and crouches down a little , so he's at eye level. I dimly notice a little black at the edges of my vision.

"H-Hey, T-Tobias." My words are a little slurred, which sparks a little worry at the back of my brain. That's not good, right?

"Rowan, what's wrong with her?" My ears register the quiet voices of Tobias asking Rowan something.

They're right beside me. Are they supposed to be that quiet?

"Long story short, she's injured pretty badly. I'll give you the details later. Right now, she needs medical attention, but she doesn't want to go to the infirmary." I feel a little bit like I'm underwater, because Rowan's voice is way more muted than it was a little bit ago.

"Okay. Rowan, tell me what injuries you know of." Tobias steps to my side, wrapping an arm around my waist to support me, and, for once, I don't fight it. I was starting to feel like I was going to keel over.

Soft voices continue talking around me, but, at this point, I'm too disoriented to comprehend them. I stumble a few times, but something, or someone, keeps me from falling every time.

Eventually, we stop in front of something, and I'm gently lowered onto it. It's soft, and warm. Something about it makes my brain hum, and a distinct sense of safety wash over me.

I lean back into the soft surface, pleased that nothing tries to stop me. As soon as my head hits the fluffy substance, my vision goes black.

A/N: Poor Cammi! She can never catch a break, can she?

If I wasn't clear enough at the end, Cammi had an adrenaline crash. She only managed to make it to Tobias' apartment because she was running on fumes.

And we finally got an answer to the stalker-ish behavior of J! He'll be making an appearance in the next chapter, but not in the way you expect. ;)

Anyhow, I promise the next chapter won't take nearly as long to get out. It's already mostly done, anyways, I just have to fix up a few small things. You may not see me before the last week of October, though - my hectic schedule will continue until at least then.
I hope you stick around for the next chapter! Cammi will deal with a whole lot more trauma, the initiates will get a tour of the fear landscape room, and J... well, you'll see.

Bien, hasta luego, mi estrellas!