Disclaimer: I do not own Divergent, any of the characters or any of the dialogue that comes directly from the text.


The next morning, my alarm goes off far too early. Capture the flag went late and by the time I got back to my apartment it was well past three in the morning. I am way too tired to deal with the initiates today and thinking about losing to Four AGAIN has put me in a shitty mood. Am I proud of Tris' accomplishment? Yes. Am I pissed off that it meant I lost? Also yes.

I down two cups of coffee and rush through eating before making my way to the training room. Today, the initiates will be learning how to aim by throwing knives. I'm first to arrive at the training room and I take a moment to appreciate the silence and solitude. I retrieve the training materials from storage and start setting up the targets. Next, I place a table beside the entrance to the room. As I begin methodically placing the knives across the table the door opens beside me announcing Four's arrival.

He nods at me and I grunt in response. I finish putting out the knives wordlessly as Four makes his way to the centre of the room. The anger I feel from last night's loss builds inside of me and I take an extra moment to examine my knife placement before turning to face him.

As I approach him he opens his mouth to speak but is interrupted by the sound of the initiates entering the room. I turn and watch as they file in and huddle up in front of Four and me. When the last of the initiates have gathered, I speak.

"Tomorrow will be the last day of stage one," I say. "You will resume fighting then. Today, you'll be learning how to aim. Everyone pick up three knives and pay attention while Four demonstrates the correct technique for throwing them."

I let out an exasperated sigh as no one moves.

"Now!" I bark.

The initiates scramble for the daggers before returning to their places in front of me.

Four moves towards the nearest target and takes a moment to ready himself. He proceeds to throw the knives with perfect precision. Each one hitting the target.

Watching him reminds me of our time as initiates. Everything always came easy to him. Shooting range? Easy. Knife throwing? Easy. Hand to hand combat? Easy. Fear simulations? Somehow…easy.

I, on the other hand, had to work my ass off during initiation. Instead of making friends and hanging out during free time I did drills, worked out and spent hours mentally dissecting my fears, trying to prepare myself. My hard work paid off and the skills I have now are proof of that, but it still wasn't enough to beat him.

"Line up!" I order.

The initiates rush to line themselves up with a target each. Most start to throw their knives immediately, but as I pace behind them I notice Tris has yet to throw a single knife. I stop and watch her as she works to perfect her stance, mirroring that of Four's. Once satisfied with her position, she raises her right arm, hand empty, and goes through the motions of throwing a knife. It's clear that she recognizes that this exercise is not about force or speed, but precision.

I continue watching her as she "practices" throwing a few more times.

"I think the Stiff's taken too many hits to the head!" remarks Peter. "Hey Stiff, remember what a knife is?"

While I resist the urge to smack Peter in the back of the head, Tris doesn't appear to react to his goading at all. Instead, she takes a knife in hand and goes through the motions but doesn't release it. Though her preparation is impressive, I can't help but note that this display is much more Erudite than it is Dauntless. My stomach flutters and I swallow hard at the thought.

There is no doubt that Tris has shown her dauntless side. By being the first jumper she immediately demonstrated bravery and fearlessness. The way she persists, never giving up and her refusal to back down from any challenge…Dauntless through and through. But this display…this is Erudite. And after capture the flag I overhead the initiates talking. Climbing that Ferris Wheel may have been Dauntless, but the reason behind it, the strategy Tris came up with…well that…that was an Erudite level of smart.

Dauntless and Erudite.

It's a combination I know well.

I start to pace again, trying to dispel the small feeling of fear that this realization has triggered inside of me.

Tris continues her motions, but this time she lets go of the knife. It doesn't stick, but she is the first person to hit the target.

"Hey, Peter," She says. "Remember what a target is?"

I hold back a snort but can't help the small smile that tugs at the corner of my lips.

After half an hour, Al, the fumbling Candor, is the only initiate who has yet to hit the target. I watch as he repeatedly misses, his knives clattering to the floor or bouncing off the wall. I rub my hand down my face and roll my eyes. The rest of the initiates retrieve their knives from the board while Al hunts the floor for his.

They start again, and again, Al misses. This is just pathetic.

I march towards him. "How slow are you, Candor? Do you need glasses? Should I move the target closer to you?"

His face turns red as he throws another knife. This one sails a few feet to the right of the target, spins and hits the wall.

"What was that, initiate?" I say quietly, leaning closer to him.

"It – it slipped," says Al.

"Well, I think you should go get it," I say. I scan the room and notice the rest of the initiates have stopped throwing their knives. "Did I tell you to stop?"

His incompetence is making me irrationally angry, I know this. My frustrations from losing last night have put me on edge and while my anger may be misplaced I will not back down.

Knives start to hit the board.

"Go get it?" Al's eyes are wide. "But everyone's still throwing."

"And?"

"And I don't want to get hit."

"I think you can trust your fellow initiates to aim better than you." I say. "Go get your knife."

"No," he says.

His non-compliance fuels my anger and it no longer feels misplaced.

"Why not? Are you afraid?"

"Of getting stabbed by an airborne knife?" says Al. "Yes, I am."

Some kind of Dauntless he is.

"Everyone stop!" I shout.

The knives stop, and so does all conversation.

"Clear out the ring," I look at Al. "All except you."

The initiates move to the edge of the room.

"Stand in front of the target," I say.

Al needs to learn that facing your fears is a mandatory part of being Dauntless. What is it our manifesto says again? We believe in facing fear no matter what the cost to our comfort, our happiness, or even our sanity.

Well he's not going to be comfortable or happy with what I'm about to make him do.

Al's hands shake as he walks back to the target.

"Hey, Four." I look back at him. "Give me a hand here."

Four scratches one of his eyebrows with a knife and walks over to me.

"You're going to stand there as he throws those knives," I say to Al, "Until you learn not to flinch."

While I would never admit it to him, Four is an impeccable shot. I know he won't hit the boy. My current anger, however, is begging to be released and I can't trust myself not to stab Al. Besides, this whole thing is bound to make Four uncomfortable and I'm not above finding pleasure in his discomfort.

"Is this really necessary?" says Four. He sounds bored, but the tension in his face and body betrays him.

Why does he insist on continuously pissing me off? I stare him down, waiting for him to relent. Just fucking do it.

"I have the authority here, remember?" I say to him quietly. "Here, and everywhere else."

Fours face turns an unmistakable shade of crimson as he turns to face Al.

"Stop it."

Now what? I turn to the owner of the voice and see Tris staring Four down.

"Any idiot can stand in front of a target," she says. "It doesn't prove anything except that you're bullying us. Which, as I recall, is a sign of cowardice."

What is she doing?

I breathe in deeply through my nose and count to five, a tactic my mother taught me when I was very young. Being quick to anger has always been a flaw of mine. I take a moment to contemplate my next move, with Tris involved I don't want to end up doing anything I'll regret.

Why is she trying to protect him? Why is she being so…selfless? Why is she being so...Abnegation? I push that thought away.

Maybe this has gone too far...but I can't back down now, and I can't let the other initiates think it's okay to challenge me. Maybe I can get her to back down.

"Then this should be easy for you," I say. "If you're willing to take his place."

Give it up Tris, I will her.

I internalize my frustration as she weaves her way through the crowd towards to target.

Stubborn.

"There goes your pretty face," hisses Peter. "Oh, wait. You don't have one."

I once again have to supress the urge to smack him.

Tris stands in front of the board. Her head doesn't reach the centre of the target. I watch as her eyes move to the knives in Four's hands.

I debate taking his place, if I throw the knives I am in control of her safety. I think better of it. I trusted Four not to hit Al…with his aim and the way he's been looking at Tris lately…he won't hit her either. She'll be fine.

"If you flinch," Four says, slowly. "Al takes your place. Understand?"

Tris nods. I hold my breath. My body tenses as Four throws the first knife. It buries itself in to the board half a foot away from Tris' cheek.

He's going easy on her.

While grateful that the knife didn't hurt her, I can't help but be annoyed at his obvious feelings for her.

"You about done, Stiff?" asks, Four.

Walk away Tris.

"No," she says, shaking her head.

I hold back a sigh.

"Eyes open, then."

A pang of jealousy hits me when I realize that they haven't broken eye contact since Tris first made it to the target.

The next knife hits the target above her head, it's closer than the last one.

"Come on, Stiff," he says. "Let someone else stand there and take it."

He's doing what I can't. Trying to get her to walk away and let Al take his rightful place. I'd be glad – if I didn't know he was doing it out of affection for her.

Four pulls his arm back and lets the knife fly. It goes straight towards her, spinning, blade over handle. The blade hits the board next to her ear and I watch a small amount of blood drip down from it.

This ends now.

I make my way over to Tris.

"I would love to stay and see if the rest of you are as daring as she is," I say, "but I think that's enough for today."

The initiates bolt towards the door and I turn to face Tris. She is looking passed me, her angry eyes locked on Four.

"We are done for the day," I say giving him a pointed look.

He stands still, refusing to break eye contact with Tris.

"Leave," I yell. His gaze moves from Tris to me and then back to Tris. It is clear that he doesn't want to leave her alone with me. He glares at me before finally leaving the room.

"What the hell?!" the girl beside me explodes.


Okay, there it is! I've been trying to aim for longer chapters, hopefully this doesn't disappoint.

Now, let's get these two talking again. Confrontation coming up next!

Thank you for sticking with me. Looking forward to hearing your thoughts!

-MWB