When we returned from the field everyone in my collection of friends immediately headed back to the dorm for some rest. Four told us that we didn't have to report to the training room until noon so most of the initiates wanted to take advantage of the time off.

"Tris, hang on," Four said quickly after dismissing the groups. He twitched his fingers, summoning me closer. I nodded goodbye to Will and Christina. I stepped towards my instructor, crossing my arms tightly.

"Yeah?" I asked. My previous conversations with him hadn't always been terribly civil.

He mirrored my crossed arms. "I just wanted to follow up on your injuries," Four explained. "Make sure that you're alright."

Cover his ass to keep Eric from calling him out again. I nodded stiffly. "I'm fine. Not really hurting anymore, which is great," I replied cooly.

"Tris, can you remember anything about what happened to you?" he asked. I recalled how he was supposed to look over the security footage from that night. If he was asking me about it now, he probably didn't find much. Damn.

"Even just where they came from? What they looked like at all?" Four continued to push.

"Sorry, no," I insisted. "Trust me, I wish I knew who the asshole was. I just don't." I bounced on my heels, wishing that the whole subject could just be dropped. Someone clearly hated me. So what? I was still going to give it my all in initiation, regardless of what they thought. And I really didn't want to keep dwelling on the fact that I'd been jumped by someone.

Four chewed on his lip and nodded tightly. "Okay then. If you remember anything, let me know," he said finally. With that, I left the train platform to find where my friends had gone to. That was when I realized they'd gone to crash for the rest of the morning.

Thanks to my little stint in the infirmary I wasn't feeling tired at all. Sitting on the train as we travelled back to Dauntless had been enough rest to bring me back to full awakeness, and now I was itching to do something.

I wandered for a while, my hands stuffed into my pants pockets and my head down. Eventually I found myself heading to the training room out of instinct. It was empty and I closed the door behind me. Of course it was empty. We still had six hours until training started and I had nothing better to do than lurk in the gymnasium.

I really knew how to live it up in my spare time.

Since I had plenty of time, I decided I'd do a little maintenance on my gear. I unlocked my locker and pulled out the weapons that I'd accumulated from the past dozen days of training. Carefully, I brought them over to one of the tables on the side of the room and broke them down. The cleaning tools were in one of the unlocked lockers, and I set about giving every piece of tooled metal a thorough cleaning.

The methodical motions were soothing, reminiscent of the repeated movements of my mother's knitting. I lost track of how long I was sitting there, my legs crossed as I perched on a stool. It was a nice break from the breakneck speed of my new faction.

And it really was starting to feel like my faction. The training that we were doing with Four was intense, yes, but it was so very different from anything I'd ever done back in Abnegation. After we were full members we would get to pick a real job, though I think that training was still a big part of Dauntless to make sure that we were always ready for anything. From what I'd seen of Dauntless life, any job that I ended up with would be tough.

I rebuilt my pistol, moving the slide smoothly into place. When I turned to put it next to my completed weapons, I realized that I'd finished cleaning everything. My fingers drummed on the tabletop and I tried to think of anything I could have missed. Every single piece had been taken apart, cleaned, and oiled to perfect working order. I was officially out of things to do.

I stood up from the stool, stretching to get rid of the stiffness in my back. The steroids and painkillers yesterday really had done the trick. I could move comfortably and easily now.

The door rolled open and I turned at the sound of the wheels moving in the track. My lips twitched in a smirk at the sight of the person walking inside. "I think you train more than the initiates," I called out jokingly to Eric as he slid the door shut behind himself.

He looked first at the lockers before his gaze moved to where I was standing. "I have to if I'm going to show up pesky transfers," he retorted. His mouth mirrored my smirk as he walked smoothly over to the table.

"Doing some shooting practice?" Eric asked curiously, raising his pierced eyebrow. "I didn't think that Four left the ammunition open when he wasn't around."

I shook my head and picked up my pistol again. "He doesn't. I don't think he trusts us quite yet around live ammo without supervision," I replied. "I had some free time and thought it wouldn't hurt to do some cleaning."

He nodded in approval. My sniper rifle ended up cradled in his arms as he looked over my work. I ignored the butterflies that were living it up in my stomach as I picked up another pistol - a machine pistol that we'd only worked with once - and made my way back to my locker. I tucked the pair away before turning to look at Eric. "Are you going to keep that or can I put it away?" I asked loudly.

Eric turned sharply to face me, sighting down the barrel. I chewed on the inside of my cheek. Nothing to worry about. It's unloaded and totally harmless. Still, the sight was nerve racking. After a beat, he pulled the rifle away from his face and replied cheerfully, "I've got a much nicer model, so I think I'll let you take this back." He didn't move from his spot, forcing me to come to him.

I stomped back over and tugged the rifle from his fingers. He offered no resistance and just continued to meet my eyes levelly. "Thanks," I murmured before going back to my locker. The room stayed silent as I put the last firearm away. I closed the locker door with a snap, twisting the combination lock to relock it.

Then it occurred to me that I didn't have a plan for what I was going to do next. My head turned to look over at Eric, still standing by the weapons table. His palms were resting casually on the table behind me and he was rolling his neck, stretching. "You have no idea what to do now, do you?" his voice rumbled across the room.

I tapped one of my heels on the floor, trying to come up with something to occupy my time for the rest of the morning. "I may be a little… bored," I admitted finally.

He chuckled and resumed his staring at me. "The cleaning gave it away," he said lightly.

"Come here," Eric said quickly, pushing off from the table. He moved to the fighting ring, stepping onto the powdered surface with a small jump. I walked slower that he had, unsure if I really wanted to do actual training. After all, this was the first morning off that I'd had in awhile. And capture the flag hadn't been completely effortless, either.

My feet still led me to the ring, ignoring the complaints from my rational mind. "Up here," he ordered, gesturing with one hand. I sucked in a deep breath before jumping up onto the mat.

"I did just recover from bruised ribs," I said warily, looking Eric over intently. He stood across from me, his feet already in a fighting stance though his hands were apparently relaxed at his sides. "If you break anything, I'm not explaining it to the doctors."

He barked out a short laugh. "I'm not going to break you," Eric insisted. I swallowed a nervous retort, bringing my hands into a guard position.

"So I should-" I began to say before I was cut off by a quick motion. Eric stepped in close to where I was, forcing me to dart backwards to avoid a fist coming straight for my face. My question died in my throat as I dodged a series of punches and elbows. Damn, Eric was fast. I had to be quick on my feet just to keep his pace, never mind make my own offensive move.

An opening presented itself and I recklessly took it, darting to circle to his left. I jabbed my elbow forcibly into his side. The blow stayed true and I even conjured a grunt of pain from Eric. But I still was careful, moving out of range with another quick step. No sense in getting cocky.

There was a slight lull as we circled each other, searching for an opening to take. I kept my guard up, my fists protecting my face. Neither of us spoke.

Then, I saw my chance once again. His foot stuttered on the mat, making him lose his balance for just a moment. With a grin, I moved in and threw my knee up, going for his torso once more. He was quicker still, though, and his arms wrapped around my thigh. His vice-like grip held me fast, and I found my arms pinwheeling as I sought my balance.

He'd tricked me!

The world spun around and my shoulder collided painfully with the mat. "Nice try, but you're too predictable," Eric taunted, lurking above me. My sight cleared and I grimaced. He extended a hand to help me back up, which I took gratefully.

Then we were squared off again, our guards up and faces grim with determination. "I'll try to be more surprising then," I growled before attempting a feint. He didn't go for it, batting away my jab effortlessly.

"Impress me, then," he retorted. The challenge goaded me on, pushing me to surpass what I'd shown before in my fights against Molly and Myra. Every blow that I couldn't dodge, I sucked up and kept moving. I landed a few solid blows of my own, though not enough to completely knock Eric down.

Every time I ended up down on the mat, he'd give a few pointers on what I'd done wrong. And every time I got back up, I wanted to wipe that smirk off his face a whole hell of a lot more. We sparred back and forth for a while, probably for a lot longer than it felt. Sometimes I kept him on his toes for a whole ten minutes, dodging his attacks with equal energy.

I was sore and my knuckles hurt like hell, but I could tell he was getting just as tired. His feet scuffled the floor slower that before and his guard took a few moments more to come back up after he struck. I just wanted to knock him down once just to prove that I could.

I grasped his arm once again after being thrown over his shoulder and dropped onto the mat. But this time, I tugged back in an attempt to drag him down. It almost worked, I think, because he had to stumble forward to keep his balance. "Very funny," he grunted.

"I like to think I'm hilarious," I retorted with a toothy grin. We circled once more, eyes darting. I stopped short, reversing direction and throwing a fist at his side. He grunted, moving to take the blow on his shoulder. When he did, I swept my knee up and caught him in the back of his leg. The combination was effective, knocking him completely off balance.

It was enough of an opening that I could push myself up on my toes and slam my elbow right into the crook of his neck. Not very powerful on it's own, but with his loss of balance and his knees bent from my kick, it pushed him to the floor. Eric managed to keep one knee up, not completely down.

I had the height advantage now and I went full throttle. He tried to grab my waist to bring me down to his level, but I forced his arms away. My right knee slammed hard into his chest, just enough to keep him distracted and stunned. That's when I pulled back my fist and let loose what I hoped would be a knockout blow.

My knuckles collided with Eric's forehead and I could swear I heard the crack of bone on bone. The shock reverberated through my arm, but I ignored the sharp pain. Eric went down hard, his shoulder slamming into the mat with a solid thwack.

"Jesus Christ, Tris," he groaned, his hand coming up to cover where I'd punched him.

A wave of panic rushed over me and I quickly sank to my knees next to him. "Are you alright?" I croaked out, my hands still clenched in fists.

He cracked one eye open and looked up at me. "You really like hitting me in the dermals, don't you?" Eric growled, his hand still rubbing his forehead gingerly.

My face flushed and I remembered how I'd hit him there the last time we'd fought. Quickly I looked down at my hand. Sure enough I had a pair of cuts between my knuckles, a mirror of his facial piercings. "I didn't mean-"

"Shut up," he cut me off quickly. "I'll live." His hand moved away from his face and he gingerly pushed himself up almost to a sitting position.

"You know, if you were anyone else, I would kick your ass for that," he said, though the anger was gone from his voice.

I relaxed, shifting to a more comfortable sitting position. "Thanks, I think?" I replied. "Though you kind of already beat the crap out of me."

He chuckled. "That's why I'm not. It'd just be boring twice in one day."

I rolled my eyes at that. A comfortable silence settled around us. I took the moment to catch my breath and relax my tense muscles. Eric seemed to be doing the same thing, his chest expanding in slow, even breaths.

Turning my attention back to his eyes, I asked, "So did I get any better from the first time? Less predictable?"

Eric shrugged one shoulder, a glint in his eyes. "Well, I would say overall you're getting better. But you're still apparently obsessed with my face," he taunted in a low voice.

"Very funny," I said sarcastically. "That's not true." I felt a slight flush come over my face again, though. He was good looking, something that was becoming more and more apparent to me every time we spent time together. Hell, I noticed it even in the dining hall, though I shoved the thought away fervently.

"Mmmm," he hummed deeply, not saying anything.

I had to look away, staring at the metal tresses across the ceiling. "Can we talk about something other than your face?" I asked quickly.

"Sure," he replied smoothly. "Maybe now you'll tell me what your tattoos mean."

My head jerked back down, meeting his gaze. He was looking intensely at me, focused on my eyes. Then, slowly, his gaze trailed down to look at my collarbone. Only the edges of the ravens' wings were visible, the rest obscured by my shirt.

"May I?" he purred, lifting a hand from the mat casually. He reached out and touched the edge of my shirt. My heart was pounding and suddenly I had to think very hard just to breathe.

I nodded slowly, just once.

His fingertips curled ever so slightly and tugged the collar of my shirt down, exposing the trio of ravens that flew along my chest. He stopped there, just resting his hand to keep the cloth out of the way. "Why ravens?" Eric asked, his voice still low.

I shook my head. "I- There's no real reason. I just liked the imagery," I replied. My heart still felt like it was in my throat. Eric probably could have felt my heartbeat, it was pounding so quickly.

His eyes flicked up to mine before returning to the ink that was embedded in my skin. "Then why three? Someone like you doesn't just get a tat like this for kicks," he continued. I wished he would go back to his usual, taunting tone.

I swallowed hard. "My family," I managed to get out. "My parents and my brother."

Eric nodded slowly. "You left them behind," he reasoned. I just nodded, not trusting myself to speak.

He let go of my shirt collar, his fingers ghosting down my chest before returning to the ground. A shiver lit down my back. His eyes were still focused intensely on me, and his expression was carefully neutral.

"Do you miss them?"

I exhaled a slow breath, pausing to think. I missed having everyone together, yes, but I no longer missed my old faction. That, I think, was the trick to his question. Faction before blood was one of the strongest tenets of our city. It's what kept the system working. "I miss us all being together, the familiar routines," I answered slowly. "I'm not sad that I left Abnegation, that's for sure, but it's weird not living with them anymore."

Eric nodded evenly and finally looked away from me. "You'll get used to the feeling. Everyone does," he murmured.

"The woes of being a traitor," I joked. A wry smile twitched across his face and he grunted in agreement. It occurred to me that he might have been a transfer, too. I'd never seen him with anyone resembling family, nor had he mentioned any relatives in any conversations I'd heard. I tried imagining what faction the brutal leader had come from.

Definitely not Amity, that was obvious. I don't even think someone growing up in Amity would ever want to transfer to Dauntless. I couldn't remember anyone named Eric living in Abnegation with me, so that was also out. He didn't have a big enough mouth to be Candor, so that only left Erudite.

I opened my mouth, about to ask him if he missed being an Erudite, but didn't get the chance to speak. He was on his feet, extending a hand to pull me up. "Just try to get over that feeling before long," Eric warned. "Loyalty is what keeps Dauntless strong. We watch out for each other before family or anyone else."

He didn't let go of my arm until I nodded, the intensity in his eyes impressing the severity of his words. "Faction before blood," I parroted back. His grip loosened and his expression softened.

"Atta girl."

My stomach twisted nervously. If I had to choose between family and faction, would I really be able to choose faction? Did I have a choice either way? Betraying Dauntless would almost certainly mean being cast out to be factionless.

It's not going to happen, I thought fervently. I could tow the line, follow the rules. After all, I wanted to belong. I did belong. I didn't have to be selfless anymore.

I walked to my locker mechanically, still lost in my thoughts. When I finally collected myself and realized that it was almost eleven - lunchtime - I was alone in the training room.