Eric was not fully healed, but he was returning to his leadership role just one week after having been shot. According to Max, this included training Tris in her office duties. She couldn't deny that she was excited by the prospect, having expected him to be gone for a lot longer.

It had been the longest week of her life. Four was good company, but he wasn't Eric. The two men were similar- both were quiet and austere, cold and professional, always putting the job first. For Tris, having Four around was a small comfort, but it wasn't quite enough.

She eyed Four from accross the table, unable to concentrate on her lunch. She could barely contain her excitement and she was wriggling in her seat.

"Something wrong, Tris?" Four asked.

"No. Just... happy to be getting back on track," she replied somewhat honestly. Really, she was glad that she would get to see Eric again in just a few short minutes.

He had been absent for the past week, not even coming to meals. Tris figured he was probably holed up in his apartment so that no one would see him in his weakened state.

"You'd better get going," Four began, peering at her with the same stony expression he always wore. "You're going to be late."

Sure enough, the cafeteria was almost empty, the lunch hour waning. She sat straight up, startled. Tris had been so preoccupied with thoughts of seeing Eric again that she had failed to realize that she would indeed be late. It would take her at least five minutes to reach the Leadership offices, even at a brisk walk, and who knows what kind of mood Eric would be in by then.

"You're right," she sighed and stood up. "I'll see you later, Four. Thanks for the black eye."

"You're welcome," he offered with a hint of a smile. Tris couldn't help but to smile back fondly. Though she wasn't happy with the dark bruising around her eye from Four's closed fist, there was something to be said for his training techniques. Tris would have a few tricks to try out on Eric when he was well enough.

She and Four said their goodbyes and Tris hurried up the many flights of stairs to the leadership offices. She was panting slightly when she got to Eric's office and her hair was mussed from continously shoving the loose strands off of her sweaty face.

She knocked on the door and a shiver went down her spine at the cool voice that answered her.

"Come in."

Eric was seated at his desk, looking like his normal clean cut self. She didn't know what she had expected. If she hadn't seen the gunshot wounds herself, she would have never guessed he'd been afflicted only one week ago.

Tris shut the door behind her, not taking her eyes off Eric. He looked up from his computer and eyed her for a long moment.

"You're late."

"Only by a few minutes," she huffed, glancing at the clock on the wall. Three minutes past one. Tris was suddenly glad that Four was overseeing her physical training now and that Eric couldn't punish her with laps.

He stood, perhaps more slowly than he would have usually done and Tris noticed the careful way he held himself. He was still in pain then, she decided.

Still, she felt a sense of foreboding as he crossed the room to stand in front of her. They were only a foot apart and Tris could smell him. Cigarettes, aftershave and something that might have been antiseptic. She inhaled deeply and fought the urge to close her eyes in bliss.

After being separated from him for the past week, his scent was enough to make her head spin.

She startled when Eric reached out to take her chin in his hand. He tilted her face upwards and her breath hitched. Was he going to kiss her?

"I see you're enjoying your time with Four."

No, he was just checking out her black eye, she realized.

He let her chin drop suddenly, leaving her disappointed.

"He's a good trainer," she blurted out, realizing too late that this was the very wrong thing to say.

Eric's face didn't betray a hint of emotion, but she knew him. She knew how his eyes looked when he was angry, how his muscles tensed and he became a living statue.

"Maybe the arrangment could be made permanant," Eric said coldly. "Since his methods are so superior. I could easily step down."

"No, don't."

The words just slipped out. Tris wanted to cringe at how weak and desperate her voice sounded. How panicked. She suspected her tone was the reason behind the tiny little smirk on his face.

"Why not? He's teaching you so well. I'm sure you'll pass your final examination with no problem."

They stood in silence for a moment until Tris realized Eric was waiting for her to speak.

"I want you to teach me," she admitted quietly.

"Why?" He asked, his cold eyes boring into hers. "Why me when you could have Four?"

"You'll make me stronger," she said, knowing it was what he wanted to hear.

He looked appeased for the moment and Tris breathed out a sigh of relief.

"If you really want me to train you, I suggest you start acting like it. There's no excuse for that black eye."

Tris wanted to defend herself, but realized that it may not have been in her best interest to bring up Four's superior fighting techniques right now.

"I'll do better."

"I know you will, unless you want to lose your position in the training program. If you don't shape up, I might as well withdraw my support."

After all she had given up, the idea of not becoming a leader was unbearable.

"You wouldn't."

He let out a harsh laugh.

"I think it would be unwise to assume that you know what I would or would not do."

She stared at him with narrowed eyes, unsure of how to respond to the threat. He smirked, as if they were discussing a funny joke and not her entire future in Dauntless.

"I said I'd do better."

"See to it that you do. No one marks up that pretty face but me, understood?"

"Yes," she mumbled, caught off guard because he called her pretty.

"What was that?"

"Yes, sir."

He looked at her with a hint of approval in his eyes.

"You might make a decent soldier one day, Stiff."