Agonizing pain was my morning companion, urging me to awaken and begin my day. The ache in my sides throbbed, forcing me to finally admit defeat and peel my eyes open. The dorm was pitch black, filled with the quietly-breathing forms of my fellow initiates. I valiantly tried to turn on my side to sleep for longer, but that only made the aching worse.

I had to get up and try to do something to make the pain lessen. Sucking in deep breaths, I sat up and staggered to the bathroom. My reflection stared back at me, surprising me with how haggard and sunken even my eyes looked. Twists of my hair had fallen out of its tie and were hanging in loose clumps about my face.

A shower would definitely help.

Peeling off yesterday's clothes hurt like hell, but the steaming hot water soothed my aches. By the time I got out and towelled off, I felt a thousand times better. Still no one else had gotten up yet, something I was thankful for as I rushed to get dressed, wrapped in my towel. Al's digital watch caught my eye and I cringed at the time. It was barely five in the morning, a good hour before even I got up for my morning run.

I sighed to myself. There was no way I was going to be able to fall asleep again, even after the hot shower. Picking up my boots like usual, I tiptoed out of the dorm and into the hallway. Slowly, I meandered through the halls until I reached the dining room. It was almost entirely empty, save for a cluster of Dauntless members quietly talking around mugs of hot coffee.

I smiled at the ones who made eye contact with me as I walked to the coolers. Grabbing a fresh water bottle, I prepared to make my way to the training room. As I was leaving the hall, I heard my name being called out.

Turning, I noticed that one of the people in the coffee circle was waving an arm at me. "Tris! I didn't recognize you at first!" they said loudly.

A smile spread across my face when I recognized who it was. "Hey, Tori!" I replied cheerfully, changing direction. She moved over on the bench and motioned for me to join her group.

"What on earth are you doing at this time of morning?" she asked curiously. I sat down next to her, trying not to bump into the menacing-looking woman who had been next to her.

I shrugged. "Couldn't sleep any more. I kind of crashed last night, so I figured I'd stretch my legs," I explained quietly.

"Who's the initiate, Tori?" someone in the group asked gruffly. After a quick round of introductions, I was still utterly confounded as to who everyone was.

Tori added after name exchange, "Tris was first jumper. She's also one of my clients." That prompted a round of ooo's and ah's, along with questions about what my "ink" was. I tugged back my tank top straps to better display the triplet of ravens, happy to show off Tori's work. That led to a round of showing off by the group - which I should have expected from a group of Dauntless.

After about five minutes of conversation, I felt more than a little overwhelmed, so I excused myself. Tori extracted a promise from me to come by and visit some time during the week. I gave her a final smile and left the dining hall.

Sitting down had been a mistake, as my body was rejecting the idea of moving again so suddenly. It wasn't unbearable though and I made it to the training room without incident. Compared to walking yesterday, this was a cakewalk. I set my water bottle down and gingerly stretched my legs and torso. Bending sideways made the bruises scream out in pain. I decided I was as limber as I was going to get and started off my laps at a slow trot.

My pace was much slower than usual, but I was determined to make it to my goal without keeling over in pain. After three laps I dared to speed up slightly and by the time I was on my ninth lap I started jogging properly. Moving tugged at my new, very tender bruises, but I was getting used to the pangs.

A noise caught my attention and I turned to look at the training room door. Pushing it shut was a face I hadn't seen in four days. "Morning," I called out as cheerfully as I dared. My reward was a tired wave in my general direction.

It was a start.

My focus returned to my jogging and I completed my tenth lap, officially having achieved my goal; However I didn't want to stop now, especially after the note I'd gotten yesterday. So I passed by the bench with my tempting water bottle and the form of my maybe-training-companion and I kept on running. Less than one lap later and the sound of footsteps in the room doubled.

I couldn't help the smirk that spread across my face. Another lap had wiped it off completely as my pain tolerance started to drop off. "On your left," a gruff voice called from behind me.

I moved slightly to the right and slowed, allowing him to pass by me. However, that wasn't what his plan was, apparently, as Eric jogged right next to me and matched my pace perfectly. Step for step, we jogged around the gymnasium in silence.

Finally I couldn't take it, darting a glance at him. "Isn't this a little slow for you?" I panted in between steps.

The bastard just shrugged his shoulders. "I would have said the same for you," Eric taunted.

I gasped, trying to come up with a response. The obvious response that I was bruised and hurting somehow slipped my mind and instead my genius retort was "bring it on, slowpoke." I started to push faster, my feet scrambling to match my overly ambitious mind.

Eric fell back behind me for a whole three seconds before he piled on the steam and breezed past me. The first corner rushed to meet me and I almost wiped out, my feet slipping over each other as I tried to turn. I got them back in control and pumped my arms, racing to match Eric's insane pace.

"Who's the slow one, again?" he asked, laughing over his shoulder. That just motivated me more and I forced my muscles into overtime. By the next corner I was only a few feet behind the cocky leader. Another lap and I was inches from his heels.

As we rounded the corner by the door, an insane idea came to mind. Somewhere inside, I remembered that I was bruised and hurting. But that wasn't the part of me that was trying her hardest to out-compete a literal running machine.

With a fierce cry, I ran nearly headfirst to the wall, diverting at the last minute to push off from the brick wall with one foot. The movement launched me a solid two feet in the air, careening onto Eric's shoulders. I think that I'd genuinely surprised him and he almost brought the both of us slamming into the ground. "What the-?" he cried out before his words cut off.

I fought to stay in control of the tackle, my arms locking around his neck. "Who's slow now?" I said stupidly, feeling a flush burn across my face. Eric came to a stop and I let myself fall off his shoulders in a not-so-graceful thump.

He turned to look at me, confusion written all across his face, his eyebrows furrowed. "Why did you do that?" Eric growled. I was thankful that he hadn't jumped straight to fury, but I had to act quickly to keep it from escalating.

"To win," I breathed quickly before dancing around him and rushing back to top speed. I made it to the lockers before it clicked and he started running again.

"You… you're insane!" Eric yelled, though there was no anger behind it. "How are you going to win? We didn't have a goal."

I didn't turn my head to look. I didn't want to lose an iota of speed. "Sure we do," I cheerfully replied. "It's one more lap to win." I had to suck in a few quick breaths before I could talk again. "And I'm halfway there!"

Swearing sounded from behind me, far closer than I'd hoped. I concentrated the rest of my energy on making it the last dozen yards across the gym and past the doorway to try to reach the benches. I dared to look over my shoulder as I made the corner, not wanting to get tackled by Eric in revenge. He was inches behind me and looking far less tired than I was feeling.

My feet slipped as I crossed by the doorway and I went down, hard. Entire galaxies flashed in my eyes as I landed on my bruised ribs. All thoughts of winning and the race in general vanished from my mind and I tried to keep tears from streaming down my face. "Shit-!" I heard Eric grunt as he rushed past me. A few moments later and I could see again.

The wind was still knocked out of me, and I wasn't really focusing on the blonde leader as he reversed direction and stumbled back to where I was. He might have said my name, though it was hard to tell from the pounding in my ears. I sucked in a gasp of air and blinked the tears away quickly.

"I'm fine, totally fine," I rasped. I don't think it was very convincing, though, as I still couldn't figure out how to move from my position on the floor.

Eric crouched down and hovered uncomfortably, his hands lingering close to my shoulders, but not actually doing anything. "Are you sure?" he asked. I nodded tightly and took in another deep breath.

"Just bruises. Not fun falling on them," I explained in short gasps. I risked rolling onto my back, blinking away the new stars in my vision. By the point in Dauntless I must have seen an entire universe. Moving ever so slowly, I pushed myself to a sitting position. "So I take it I didn't win the race," I laughed tiredly.

His grey eyes still sharply watching my every move, Eric shook his head. "Not quite," he replied gruffly. "That generally requires making it to the end without wiping out."

"Huh. I'll have to write that down," I breathed heavily. The pain was taking forever to subdue. Maybe it would have been better to have stayed in the dorm rather than training this morning, the rational part of me theorized.

Eric was still watching me intensely. "What did you mean by bruises? Four hasn't been making any of you transfers fight because of Al," he asked in a low voice. I noticed that he didn't call Al my "boy-toy" again, which was a relief.

"You know," I answered vaguely, gesturing into the air. "Training and all that jazz. Everything hurts most days." My breathing was back in control and I was starting to worry that Eric was going to keep asking questions about my injuries. It was just like with Four yesterday, but somehow worse. I didn't want either of them to know that I'd been attacked by someone; But with Eric I felt like I was a letdown because I hadn't been able to defend myself.

Tucking my feet under myself, I stood up shakily. "There we go. Perfectly fine," I insisted with a smile. Eric's expression didn't scream of being convinced, but he didn't ask any more questions. "Just need my water bottle and breakfast and I'll be good to go."

I turned and walked to the benches with the aforementioned water bottle. I unscrewed the top and gulped down a good portion of it, fighting every moment to keep my free hand from shaking. It was just the exertion and the stress, nothing more, that was making it shake.

Footsteps sounded from behind me and a tattooed forearm snagged the bottle from my hand while I was distracted. Eric slid onto the bench next to me, looking up at me with a smirk as he lounged there. "Just a little payback from last time," he said, shaking the bottle slightly before taking a swig.

That brought a smile to my face, though I fought to keep it from getting too manic. "No coffee for you today?" I joked, putting my hands on my hips. I rolled the cap to the water bottle between my fingertips, antsy now that I wasn't burning through energy willy-nilly.

Eric shrugged, taking another long swig. "Not yet. Don't want to burn through the caffeine before the day's begun," he said by way of explanation. "Speaking of which, you're awake early."

I averted my eyes, looking down at the wood grain of the benchtop instead of his silver-grey eyes. "How would you know? You always get in after I do. I could get up at five every day," I murmured quietly.

"No one voluntarily gets up at five. Not even crazy initiates who like to tire themselves out before doing even more training," he retorted. "Besides," Eric added smugly, "there are sensors on the doors to tell when they get opened. You're normally here at six, not five."

It was hard to argue with him, though I wanted to. "I couldn't sleep, that's all," I said defensively. "Nothing more than that. And why are you looking up when I get up? Isn't that a little, I don't know, creepy?" I looked back over at him, folding my arms tightly across my chest.

Eric raised his pierced eyebrow, looking amused. "Trust me, I don't monitor every initiate's comings and goings. I just looked up the logs the other day so I could go running with someone else who was awake at the same time. Nothing more," he said smugly. "If you want a stalker, you should talk to your boy-toy Al."

I threw my hands into the air, stomping away from the benches. "For the last time, he's not my 'boy-toy.' And I don't want a stalker, obviously," I grumbled.

Something clicked in my head and I turned back to face him. "Hang on," I started. "You only looked up the door logs?"

He bobbed his head in affirmation, the smug smirk still plastered on his face.

"And you just want someone to run with? No other motives? They could suck and you wouldn't care."

"Yes?" Eric confirmed, though his smirk was fading.

I raised my own eyebrow and asked him smugly, "then why did you leave that note in my locker about only doing ten laps? Isn't that more than just wanting someone to run with at the same time?"

He didn't reply, but he blinked several times and his expression turned unreadable. I hadn't expected that to shut him up. Frankly, I'd expected some snarky comment about wanting a 'sufficient' partner or a 'challenge' or something of the like.

I chewed on my lip, not enjoying the silence that had fallen between us. "Well," I said uncomfortably, "that was just my question."

Eric pushed off from the bench and sauntered over, leaning in close enough that he probably could have heard my heart pounding. "Keep asking questions, if you dare. For now, I'll just say 'I'm curious' about what you're capable of, Tris," he murmured quietly. "That's why I woke up to run with you and pick your tired ass off the ground when you trip trying to race a leader," he teased, his tone becoming much lighter, very quickly.

My face flushed and I broke eye contact first, staring at the floor between my feet. Eric chuckled and brushed past me. I looked over my shoulder as he left, feeling like I always did, like I was suffering from the whiplash that came from a conversation with Eric.

Then I realized he'd taken my water bottle with him and I swore, loudly.

That wasn't the last time I would see Eric that morning. When we filed into the training room after breakfast with the the other transfers, he was lurking by the equipment tables. He had a knife out, picking at his nails with careful motions. Four stood by the punching bags and fighting ring, his expression back to no-nonsense after three days of relative calm.

"Okay, listen up initiates. We're going to start fighting training back up again now that we're all in working order," Four called out gruffly. He looked pointedly at Al, who shuffled his feet uncomfortably. "First up, I want Al and Tris in the ring. And no complaints from either of you."

I looked at my friend, shrugging. It was bound to happen with the initiate class being so small. After his fight with Christina I wasn't too terribly worried about getting beaten by the gentle boy.

Al refused to make eye contact with me, trudging towards the fighting ring with one hand clamped on his injured elbow. If I was smart, I would use that against him. Then again, I thought as I took up my position across from him, I might not even need that kind of advantage to beat him. I tried to give him a reassuring smile across the center ring, but he was far too distracted to notice.

Four ran over the rules again quickly - as though we'd forgotten that we couldn't tap out - and stepped out of the ring. After the call to "go!" I danced forward and launched a quick blow at Al. I was anticipating it not to hit at all, but he barely moved at all and I still glanced off his shoulder.

"Come on, man," I whispered. "You have to fight me." I swung a low kick at his knee, knowing it wasn't going to do anything against an opponent that much larger than me.

Al swallowed hard, cringing when my bare foot slammed into his kneecap. "You must have been mad when I shot you," I tried again, dancing backwards to avoid an open-handed slap from him.

"Not really," he whispered back. It wasn't the response I'd hoped to get from him. "I'm not that kind of guy."

I snorted before rolling out one of the series of blows that we'd learned on the first day. Every single hit landed in one way or another. Al couldn't dodge, hit, or block a blow to save his life, literally. Nor was he willing to put the energy in to even try. My goal to make him angry completely backfired and I found my own temper sparking.

"Then I'm sorry, Al," I hissed. "I really am."

I moved into overdrive, attacking him with rapid-fire blows with my fists, knees, and elbows. Within a few moments I'd bluffed him into exposing his face at the wrong moment and pounded an uppercut directly into his jaw. He cried out in pain and slammed down to his knees. Without even taking another hit, he was on the ground "out cold."

My stomach flipped and I looked over at Four for direction. I knew that he knew Al wasn't out, but I didn't think Four wanted me to finish him off. There was no point when Al wasn't going to put up a real fight to try to stay in the round.

"And Tris is the winner," Four called out loudly. My fists came down and I nodded quickly. I felt even worse than when I'd fought Myra. At least she had tried to put up a fight.

Al pushed himself up and jumped down from the fighting ring dejectedly. Will offered some quiet reassurance to him, but I didn't hear what it was. I was focused on Eric, who had stormed over next to Four and looked positively furious.

"Please tell me that was a joke and you're going to start the actual training now," Eric growled angrily. "Because that wasn't a fight at all. I've seen dependents take harder hits than that pathetic excuse of an initiate."

I started to move to jump down from the fighting ring, but Eric's sharp voice stopped me. "No, you stay there Tris. Scaredy-cat there might not want to fight, but that's not anyone else's burden to bear," he ordered.

Startled, I shuffled my feet and waited to see what exactly was going to happen now. Four glared at Eric and gestured widely. "Anything else I can help you with? Or are you done yelling at my trainees?" He retorted, his voice tense.

"I'm just getting started, Four," Eric said with a smirk. "Who was supposed to stay out today? Which one?"

Four's expression turned from irritated to angry and he flipped through his scoring clipboard. "Molly," he spat finally after a tense minute.

Eric waved his hand at the named girl, pointing for her to go into the ring. "It's your lucky day. You get to fight," he said with mock cheerfulness. "Tris, you get an actual challenge. Have fun."

I looked at his face and couldn't help my stomach flipping. This was my first real chance to show off what I was capable of. I wasn't stuck fighting the two worst ranked initiates. I had an actual challenge. I nodded once and turned to look Molly over carefully.

She'd already kicked off her boots and was bouncing on the balls of her feet. She was all smiles, a nasty grin spread across her wide face. "You're gonna get it good now, Stiff," she hissed. "You're gonna wish you were never born."

I didn't reply, choosing instead to rush at her. Before I got too close though I switched to a straight-on kick, aiming for her left arm. She managed to move out of the way, my blow glancing off her forearm ineffectively.

"Stop trying, Stiff," she taunted, throwing a punch at my exposed shoulder. I couldn't move my body quickly enough to avoid the blow, so I tried my best to roll with it. Another blow landed on my side, managing to hit one of my many bruises.

Stifling a cry, I finished my turn and moved directly into a punch and elbow blow series that Four had taught us just yesterday. My speed wasn't enough though, and Molly brought up blocks just in the knick of time. On the last punch she actually caught my fist and twisted me into a tight hold. "Don't embarrass yourself in front of your fuck buddy, Stiff," Molly whispered in my ear, her breath hot in my ear. "Sleeping with him isn't going to keep you on the top if your ribs are broken."

The comment caught me totally off guard and I blanked on the movement to break her hold. "What?" I grunted in astonishment.

That's when her knee slammed into my side and I felt the fight sway firmly away from my control. I gasped in pain and threw my elbow weakly at Molly's head. It actually collided, though it only made her hands weaken their hold, not drop my wrists completely.

She recovered quickly - being thick headed helps sometimes, I thoughts vaguely - and forced me onto my knees with sharp pressure against my spine. I had one last chance to try and knock her down to my level with a kick, but I just couldn't get enough air in my lungs to serve up a solid blow.

Another knee slammed into my side and I had to roll into a fetal position to get away. That's when her fists and feet took over, pounding into my skull and ribs until my vision narrowed to a tiny tunnel.

"Enough!" a low voice called out, but it was already far, far past enough for me. Molly's feet fade from my vision and I let out the breath I'd been clinging to.

I didn't remember drawing in another before the blackness overtook me.

Murmurs sounded around me, enveloping me as grey clouds swirled in front of my eyes. One of the sounds was familiar and the other was half remembered, like a dream. Nothing coherent passed through the clouds and I grew frustrated. Why bother talking if you can't make the words make sense?

I tried to blow away the clouds, but my mouth didn't want to cooperate. Sighing, I resolved to ignore the mumbling phrases as best as I could. However the more I tried to ignore them, the louder and clearer they seemed to become.

Words finally resolved and I caught the sound of my own name.

"-Tris fight that-"

"You're in charge of the initiates. Why-"

"-can't blame me-"

The words weren't all there, but I could almost tell who each belonged to. The louder one-

"Who lets someone with that many fresh bruises to fight at all?"

-That one belonged to Eric.

"How was I supposed to know about injuries that didn't happen during training?"

The other voice was harder to place. It almost sounded like someone from a long time ago, but that didn't make sense. Why would someone from way back be talking to Eric in the Dauntless infirmary? I had to be mixing a dream with reality.

Suddenly, everything clicked. I lost track of the conversation around me as I opened one eye carefully and looked at the room around me. The bed I was in was metal and white. Well, the sheets were white and carefully tucked in about me. Something beeped constantly next to me - a heart monitor - and the sound was speeding up. Oh yeah. That was me, waking up.

"You can't call yourself an instructor and not know that one of your trainees is sporting two bruised ribs and what could have been a concussion!" The loud one - Eric, my brain supplied tiredly - brought the conversation back to my attention

A loud thump sounded as something fell to the floor with a clatter. "If they don't tell me, I can't know that kind of shit. No fights happened for the past three days and I sure as hell would have noticed if something like that had happened," Four growled.

"So bruised ribs just happen magically?"

"Yesterday night she was looking pretty ragged - like they all were after running half the city - and said she'd taken a tough fall. I'm not their fucking parent. If they don't say 'Oh, Four, someone beat the shit out of me,' I'm not responsible for not knowing."

Tense silence.

Speaking of bruised ribs, I realized that nothing was hurting at all. Odd.

"Pull the footage from command for yesterday. See if you can tell what the fuck happened. I'm not having Max launch an investigation over hazing again."

"Fine. Fine."

An angry set of footsteps faded away, ending in a slammed door. I wondered why I didn't see any of it.

My eyes had closed again. That's why I couldn't see anything. Ah. That made sense. I pushed them both open, wincing at the light that was so brutally painful. I could see farther this time. Eric was standing a few feet away, his arms crossed with one hand resting on his mouth. Tense. He didn't look happy. How very Eric of him.

I tried to turn my head, but that caused a very unpleasant sensation. Pain. It was dulled, like I was feeling it through a tunnel or through a pool of water. It was very odd. I didn't like it at all.

"-ric?" I croaked, trying and failing to coherently say the blonde leader's name. The sound caught his attention and he started, turning quickly to look at me.

I tried to clear my throat and attempt again. "Sorry. Hi," I managed to squeak out. The words were coming out easier now. "I'm in the hospital, right?"

Eric cautiously stepped towards me, his face looking almost uncertain. That was odd. Eric was never uncertain. He was Mr. Dauntless-to-the-core. He couldn't be uncertain. "Not quite. Just the infirmary upstairs," he replied slowly. His voice was much quieter than it had been a minute ago.

I bobbed my head slowly in acknowledgment. "That makes more sense." The motion made the pain come back again for a moment, but it was just as dulled and I found it easy to ignore. "If I was in the hospital, I could have said hi to my mom. She volunteered sometime to help when they were understaffed," I babbled. "But if she saw me like this, I don't think she'd be happy. She and father thought Dauntless were hellians who took too many risks." I didn't know why I was rambling like this, but the words were coming easily out of my mouth. "Oops. Sorry, I don't know why I said that."

Eric's mouth twitched with a small smile, but he quickly went back to his stern, unreadable expression. "You've got painkillers in your system, Tris. They make you loopy. The doctor's also given you something to speed up healing those bruises," he explained quietly. I didn't like his quiet voice. It made me feel like I'd done something wrong, like when a teacher yelled at someone in class.

"You'll be out of comission for a few hours, but not much longer," he added.

I blinked slowly. "Wow. That's really cool. If I got a bruise before I just had to wait for it to fix itself," I mused. "But we've got bruise-be-gone stuff?"

I extracted a small chuckle out of Eric from that comment. "Well, it's not called that, but that's the basic idea. It's a very powerful steroid stimulant. Leading edge technology for Dauntless warriors," he explained.

"Sick-k-k," I said, giving a weak thumbs up. "So I can go down for dinner when it's all done making me not-bruised?" I asked. After the initial rush, I was trying to compensate for how the painkillers were making me feel. Remembering how uncomfortable talking with Al had been, I didn't want to make anyone feel the same way.

"You can go whenever they release you. But I'm sure they'll want you to stay for at least a few hours to make sure everything is healed."

"Bullshit. If I'm just waiting for bruises to heal, then I don't need to sit in a hospital bed," I mused. I tried to sit up fully, intent on leaving right then and there. Blackness swarmed at the edges of my vision and I almost toppled sideways from the bed. "Shit!"

Black tattoos replaced the black dots in my vision as Eric suddenly appeared at my side, his arms keeping me from falling to the ground. "Jesus, Stiff, if I knew you had a death wish, I would have just left you on the fighting mat," he snapped.

The anger and tension in his voice caught me off guard. I stilled the smile that had started to spread across my face and instead stared at my hands in my lap. "I don't have a death wish," I insisted hotly. "You don't have to stay here. I'll stay until they discharge me. I'll be fine." It was the third time in so many hours that I'd insisted that I was fine, and it was just as much of a lie as before.

A heavy sigh sounded from next to me. "You're impossible," Eric exhaled. "You know that, right?" I just shrugged. I thought the same thing about him. The enigma that I couldn't figure out.

"How did you get those bruises," Eric asked suddenly, "for real?" His voice had dropped all the bravado and the smooth confidence that was always present when we talked.

I shook my head. "I don't know. Someone came at me in the street. I should have been able to defend myself, but I couldn't," I answered honestly. Tears burned at the corners of my eyes and I swiped them away quickly. "I fucked up, just like today. Completely failed. Some Dauntless," I snorted. Another tear fought to escape and I squeezed my eyes shut, willing it to stay hidden away.

Eric remained still next to me, a constant reminder of the strength that I didn't possess. "I think I'm going to sleep," I insisted suddenly, leaning back into the pillows. I turned away, looking at the empty hospital bed next to me. "The painkillers," I said by way of explanation.

"Sure," he replied gruffly. "You should rest." I didn't hear anything else for a long minute before his footsteps finally padded away.

"Eric?" I called out quietly. Part of me hoped he wouldn't hear it, but of course he did.

"Yeah?" The footsteps paused.

"If you find out who did it, you'll tell me so I can beat the shit out of them, right?" I asked.

A silent beat. Maybe he'd left. Or maybe I'd dreamed what I'd said. The grey clouds were coming again at the corners of my vision.

"You'll have to get in line." The door opened and closed with a much quieter snap.

I fell asleep with a smile on my face.

Whew! I was SO happy writing this chapter. Many, many things that I'd wanted to have happen ACTUALLY HAPPENED finally! Goofy Tris trying to tackle her intense instructor. Fighting Molly. Slightly dopy!Tris having a swell conversation with guilty!Eric. Which, by the way, is why he's being all strange in that last bit. He's trying to push the blame on Four for having Tris fight at all with her injuries, but he's equally to blame since he had her do a SECOND fight while suffering through a not-so-fun pile of bruises.