Chewing on my lip, I sat as stiffly as possible on the bench. Situated in the middle of a short corridor, we were waiting for the go-ahead to enter one of six different doors. Four had brought us to this lonesome hallway without any explanation.

Both sets of initiates waited. It made for interesting conversation as our numbers dwindled. Four and Lauren selected initiates at random to follow them into two of the doors, not following rank or previous faction affiliation. Christina was taken third, emerging from the room white-faced and jittery. Lauren had offered no explanation, calling the next initiate in without further addressing Christina.

I certainly wasn't able to ask Christina what had happened. Those who had been called in were allowed to leave for the day. And leave they did. Some scurried away; others seemed pensive. When Al tried to ask Will what was inside the rooms, all he got in reply was insistence that they weren't allowed to tell.

And so we watched. And waited. And worried.

Peter sulked, his arms crossed tightly. I kept looking at him as he slouched further down on the bench across from me. Both of his cronies had been called in before he was.

The waiting was unbearable. It got down to Uriah, Peter, some other Dauntless-born I didn't know, and myself. When Four opened the door to let Al out, I was about ready to volunteer myself to go regardless of the way that Al's hands shook.

The Dauntless-born kid I didn't know got called instead. Peter threw his hands in the air. "Come on. What gives? I ranked number one in round one and now I have to wait a million years for training?" he complained.

Uriah shook his head. He sat up to better glare at Peter. "You might have ranked high for a transfer, but don't go thinking you're hot shit, Hayes," he asserted.

"You didn't even legitimately get top rank," I added quietly. I might have been biting my tongue for the past few days ever since I found myself the odd girl out, but I had had enough of Peter to put him in his place. Uriah also was very much the kind of guy who wouldn't put up with elitist bullshit.

Peter rounded on me, ignoring Uriah's comment. I was the easier target in his mind, I'm sure Standing up, he stalked over and leered over me. I could smell coffee on his breath still from breakfast.

"You watch your tongue, Stiff," he growled.

I raised an eyebrow. "Or what? You're going to glare at me a little more?" I retorted.

Uriah stood slowly. I could see him moving from the corner of my eye. Still, I had to keep my attention on Peter. I was brash, not stupid.

He leaned in close, mock whispering in my ear. "Or maybe next time you get knocked down on a run out in the city you won't be getting back up again." His breath was hot on my neck.

The heel of my palm collided with his gut, sending the air from his lungs in a satisfying rush. He scrambled backward, doubled over in pain. "You'll pay for that, Stiff," Peter gasped. One foot failed to find purchase, and he went down in a crumple of limbs.

Uriah, his hands neatly in his pockets, was the image of perfect innocence. The toe of his boot was scuffed now though, fresh polish smudged.

"Stay away from me, Peter," I warned. I was unmoved from my seat. The last thing that I needed was to escalate the situation any farther. He wasn't worth the hit to my rank, regardless of how good it had felt to sock him in the stomach.

The snarl that stretched across Peter's face didn't mesh with my plans. He would be out for revenge. I turned my head when I heard a door open down the hall.

I didn't see Peter's fist coming at the side of my head. I certainly felt his knuckles driving my face into the stone wall next to me. Pain exploded along my cheek and down my jaw. Our training had me moving reflexively, throwing my elbow in the direction where the blow had come from. Sitting down was a disadvantage now. I couldn't move easily to follow through with my strike.

"Enough, you pack of brats," Lauren shouted. Calloused fingers pried Peter away from me; he had latched onto my arm to pull me to the floor. Uriah got in a few last kicks at the back of Peter's knees before stepping against the wall.

I blinked away tears and tacky wetness dripping down from above my eyelid. The rough wall had cut open a gash along my face. That explained the surge in pain every time my heart beat. "Uriah, in there. Hayes, room three. Prior, the last one." Lauren directed us into separate rooms though not before she raved about cooperation being "fucking important in a military, or is that too complicated to get through idiotic skulls?"

The door snapped shut on Lauren's red face. Instantly, the sounds in the hall became muted. I touched the side of my face, wincing at how tender the skin was. From how little concern Lauren had shown about any of our injuries, it wasn't a big deal.

I turned around to look for a towel or perhaps a first aid kit. My stomach dropped down to my feet when I realized the room I'd entered was nearly identical to the aptitude testing chamber. The same uncomfortable examination chair waited vacant alongside a computer terminal and rolling stool.

My palms started to sweat. Were we being re-evaluated for our aptitudes? Would my secret be discovered? I considered the door behind me. I would be able to make it out of this floor without being questioned. However the rules were quite clear for initiates; no one was allowed to leave Dauntless.

And where would I go? No, I couldn't run. I turned back to face the examination chair. The fake leather covering was worn on the seat and along the seams. I moved forward, curious. It wasn't quite the same as the aptitude test chair, I realized. There was a neck support and armrests. Straps dangled down, buckles glinting in the yellowed light that was becoming brighter and brighter as the bulb warmed up.

Tiny crescent-like knicks in the armrest by the hands gave me pause. I half expected to notice rust colored spots on the faded turquoise leather from long-dried blood. Everything was rather sterile, though, and I couldn't tell if that made me more or less nervous.

I took advantage of the cabinets along the wall, finding gauze to unravel and press against the side of my head. The bleeding hadn't slowed. Head wounds. Total pains, metaphorically and literally.

Sitting in the exam chair was beyond my limited bravery. I sat on the stool instead, wheeling myself into the corner closest to the door. There I waited, attention wavering between the slight groans and whispers of noise that I managed to hear from the hall and my frantic glances at the examination chair.

"It's not going to attack you," I whispered to myself. How idiotic, to be afraid of a piece of furniture. Still, I couldn't fight the wariness that clamored at the edges of my thoughts. You're Divergent! You're going to get caught! Why did you leave Abnegation? You don't belong here.

I wanted Four or Lauren to just come inside and get it over with. Make the discovery. Identify the liar who had faked her way through part one of Initiation.

All I got for my impatience was a crick in my neck and a red stain on my palm when my cut bled through the gauze.

I changed gauze twice until no fresh blood stained the fabric. Further investigation of the storage cabinets revealed a stash of alcohol wipes. Those helped to clean off my face and hand. I filled the only trash can available with wrappers and bloodstained cloth. It was a distraction that I missed as soon as I didn't have it.

My fingers probed the edge of the cut. The flashes of pain were punishment for not leaving things well enough alone.

And still I waited.

My stomach growled. How long had it been since breakfast? Surely someone should have come for me. I didn't have any point of reference for how much time was passing. I didn't dare turn on the computer. Fear of setting off some kind of alert for messing with the terminal overrode even the greatest worry that I had been forgotten about.

I'd started to doze off, my head at an awkward cant to keep my right side away from the wall, when the door opened finally. It swung inward, threatening to hit my knees. I scurried to my feet to address the person who entered.

I recognized the man, if only by his shock of red hair. "Sergeant Richards?" I questioned. "You're not one of my trainers."

The truck driver started visibly when I stepped into his field of view. He wasn't alone, either. A small group of Dauntless lingered in the hall, talking and laughing. There was no sign of Lauren, Four, or any of my fellow Initiates.

Richards frowned, apparently struggling to recall who I was or how I knew him. "You're that first jumper girl, aren't you? The transfer," he realized, snapping his fingers when he was certain. "Eric's trainee."

I shrugged one shoulder. "Kind of," I said. "Technically Four is my trainer. Lauren kind of is as well? I think at least now that we're all one big group."

He nodded once, still regarding me carefully. After a moment he spoke again. "So what exactly are you doing unattended in the sim rooms?"

So I had been abandoned. Wincing, I broke eye contact with Richards. "There was a fight. Lauren told me to wait in here until… well I guess until she came to get me," I explained.

Richards tapped his foot while he thought. "She left and I'm not one to mess with training regimens. Especially not Initiation crap. They get really fucking twitchy if everything isn't followed to the letter. C'mon, Jumper. I'll take you to Eric and he can figure out what the hell he wants to do with you," the sergeant reasoned.

I considered protesting but then I remembered how well Four usually took to me missing out on training.

"Eric it is," I agreed.

Not all of Dauntless resided in the deep dark of Chicago's crust. The Spire rose above the Pit, a glass-enclosed jewel. It didn't soar to the same heights as the Hub or Erudite's series of research facilities but we weren't trying for pointless vanity.

I stole as many glimpses as I could of the bustling heart of the Faction below my feet as Richards escorted me to the lift. He clicked the highest button. "Leadership is up top. Dunno why, it just is. Other offices are on the lower floors, and then there's some primo housing. Don't plan on getting one of those apartments though. Mostly it's faction elders there. People who have been Initiated for decades," Richards explained idly as we ascended.

"Can I ask you a question?" Any other day I might have cared to sit and listen to faction trivia. I still couldn't get the image of the examination chair out of my head, not after staring at it for over an hour.

The lift surged to a stop. Richards had braced one hand on the wall to compensate. I staggered forward, unbalanced. "There's a bit of a hiccup with the breaks. The engineers still haven't isolated the problem," Richards said smirking.

"Thanks for the heads up," I growled under my breath. I flinched when Richards patted me on the back and assured me that I'd get used to it. He'd avoided my question which irritated me.

He stalked forward, hands now tucked into his pockets. A pair of dying ferns littered the ground with leaves next to a water cooler and several worn chairs. There was only one place to go outside of the lift - a door labeled simply "Leadership Offices." Richards paused just before it to set his shoulders and smooth the front of his shirt.

Richards walked inside first, gesturing for me to follow with a twitch of his hand. "Is Eric available? I found one of his people lurking in the simulation rooms unattended," he explained to a dark-haired Dauntless sitting at a central desk. Two corridors stretched from the reception area down into the heart of the offices. I could see a bank of windows at the end as both turned towards one another in a U shape.

The man at the desk snorted, surprising me. Other than Four - who as I understood had never gotten along with Eric - I had yet to meet another Dauntless who regarded Eric with anything less than respect. It took me until he actually spoke to be able to recognize the man.

"His holiness is currently eating lunch at his desk," Kyle jeered, rolling his eyes. "Too good to join the rest of us mere mortals, I suppose."

Richards cleared his throat and twitched his head in my direction. "As I said, I've got one of his kids."

Kyle sat up, casting his gaze in my direction finally. "Oh. That one. 'Kay," he grunted. Sliding his feet off the desk where they'd been crossed, Kyle punched a number on the massive desk comm. "You've got a visitor inbound, bossman. I'll assume you're decent unless you tell me otherwise."

I raised an eyebrow. Kyle only smirked, amused by his own nicknames and antics. I didn't care to wait for permission, moving to the hallway closest to me. Most of the office doors were open, and the rooms themselves were dark. I'd chosen wrong - and not been corrected - and had to make nearly the whole loop to find Eric's office door.

Looking over my shoulder, I could just see Richards sitting on the edge of the reception desk with a smile on his face looking fondly at Kyle as they chatted quietly. Oh. Cute.

"Enter," Eric ordered gruffly from the depths of the office. I stepped inside. I immediately regretted my decision to pick being confronted by Eric versus Four. The latter may have reamed me out for being left on my lonesome, something which was not my fault.

Eric, however, took one look at me and groaned. "It's day one of integrated training. Day one!" he echoed. "How hard is it to just shake hands, introduce yourselves, and not get into a pissing contest?"

I cringed. Tugging my hair down from its ponytail, I shook my head to try and cover the side of my face that was still raw and painful. "It wasn't my fault," I said.

"It never is. Jesus, Prior. Tell me this was after the sims. What happened? Why the hell are you up here instead of with the rest of the brat pack?" He asked everything briskly and without a second for me to get to respond. "You're not dicking around in the training rooms trying to be fucking macho, right?"

I lifted one shoulder. The change in Eric's demeanor from yesterday wasn't even surprising anymore. The moment I had a handle on his mood, it would totally flip. I remembered how he spoke about still slogging through the investigation into Edward's attacker. I'm sure seeing another beat up Initiate didn't help. "We were almost done with the sims, I guess. I had been waiting forever outside. Uriah and Peter started going at it over ranks."

Eric rubbed at his face with his hand. "And you just had to butt in, too," he growled.

I decided to ignore his comment as well as the sting to my pride that came with it. "Peter didn't like the fact that I called him out, and he lashed out at me. Concrete beats face every time as I've learned, and I got this lovely piece," I explained while pointing to my cheek. "Lauren came out because whoever she had with her had just finished. She put us in separate rooms and told us to wait until one of them came by.

"No one did, at least not until the sergeant from the other day came into the room I was in. It had been a while and I guess they forgot I was in there. It was just a stupid fight, that's all." My fingers played with the end of my hair, twisting a lock in circles. Eric hadn't told me that I could sit down and I wasn't about to ask him while he was still mid-rant.

Eric huffed, glaring just over my shoulder in the direction of the reception area. "You must mean Richards," he said. "The driver crew was scheduled to use the sims after you guys finished up."

He got quiet. I could almost see the wheels spinning in his head as he slowly tapped a pen on the desk in front of him. "Alright," Eric started quietly, "this is only majorly inconvenient. I take it neither of the trainers went over with you what the sims are about? And you didn't get to run through anything?"

His attention was still focused over my shoulder. I didn't mind as it meant I could sneak glances around the office without feeling idiotic. Everything looked secondhand but sturdy. Practical until the end, Dauntless was. "They took us to the hallway and told us to wait. I think whatever lesson thing was planned they were giving individually," I replied.

"They're not looking at aptitude, are they?" I asked when Eric continued to think.

"Hm? Oh, no," he answered idly, shaking his head once. "The sims aren't for aptitude. That's not important. If you've got the drive, you'll make it through initiation. We don't need to waste time testing for aptitude."

I closed my eyes and counted to five before responding. Relief sent a physical wave of euphoria from the top of my head all the way to my feet. Thank. God. "That makes sense. Waste of time and resources," I babbled.

Eric stood up. When I opened my eyes again he was back to focusing entirely on me. I wrangled the tiny spike of tension that I'd given myself away by asking about aptitude in the first place. The more that I acted guilty, the more likely that Eric or whoever would look for why I was.

"C'mon, Prior. Field trip back downstairs. I'm sure the rest of your people have the day off. Plenty of time to get you through the first round of sims like you're supposed to have been doing," he said. "Might even put you through twice if you're not completely wrecked from round one."

"Twice?" I blanched, dogging his footsteps as he lead me out from the office into the reception area. Richards threw himself from Kyle's desk and into parade rest as soon as he spotted Eric.

"Never mind," Eric dismissed. "Rich, you're in luck. Your reevaluation is going to get pushed off the docket. Initiate needs to get tested."

The sergeant's expression was a mix of confusion and relief. "I can always wait and do it later today," he offered. "Jameson had mentioned this being important to-"

Eric waved the rest of Richards' words away and continued moving to the lift, jabbing the call button with his thumb. "It's no trouble. Enjoy the day off. Kyle could use the company. He's being unbearably witty today."

I waved silently to the pair of Dauntless as the door closed behind me. Eric and I were alone, standing inches from one another awaiting the return of the elevator. My hands had started sweating again, and I wiped them on my pants before shoving them in my pockets.

The unknown of exactly what these sims were testing for rose up again in my thoughts. If they weren't for aptitude, what exactly was Eric and the trainers looking for? "So the sims-" I started to ask.

Eric looked at me pointedly. Don't ask, the expression read. Alright, so even though I was about to do them, I still couldn't know. Anxiety caused me to bounce my leg. The elevator finally arrived.

Inside the metal walled box, I had even less to look at. I knew that I was staring at Eric every few seconds but couldn't stop. "So you're not allowed to tell me what the sims are for," I said finally.

"Correct." Eric kept his answers clipped.

"But we all have to do them. Multiple times?"

"Yes."

"Even after Initiation?"

"Occasionally."

I watched the floor indicator tick down, down, down. "Do they hurt?" I asked quietly.

Eric paused and I saw his eyes flick again over the cut on my face. "Not always. But sometimes, yes."

Smoke, dust, and chaos filled the air. My chest rattled every time that I sucked in another ragged breath. Disembodied voices called out through the smoke-filled hallway.

My heart raced. What had happened? I tried to think back to what had caused the fire now raging through the halls of the Hub. My mind came up empty. I'm certain if Will had been around, he would have said something about situation amnesia and how stress messed with your head.

Hacking out another cough, I dropped down to my knees. Childhood drills rose to the forefront of my thoughts. Heat and smoke rises. Stay low, get out. I had to keep moving or I would doom myself.

The hallways seemed endless and with how much grey smoke was billowing through the air, I couldn't see any of the emergency signage for where the stairs were. Shouts still echoed, though it seemed I could never quite reach their source.

The carpet scraped at my hands and knees as I scrambled to move faster. Primal fear threatened to take over. I fought to calm down.

I had to escape.

I was going to die here if I didn't get out.

Fear turned to determination as I latched onto that thought. If I could use that fear to move just that much faster, that inch farther, then I would be able to escape. A stairwell door painted red seemed to appear like a ray of sunlight from the heavens.

I patted the bottom with the back of my hand. It was still cool to the touch. Sucking in a massive breath, I stood and slammed on the push bar to open the door.

"Welcome back to the real world," Eric's voice greeted me. I had to blink back the fading image of a red door opening into nothingness which was overlaid across my vision. The black and white "EMERGENCY EXIT" sign from the door-which-did-not-exist still splayed out over Eric's back and the computer screen he was examining.

My hands ached from how hard I gripped the armrests under them. Breathing took on a painful note as I gaped like a fish out of water. Sweet, clean air filled my lungs with every breath, soothing my smoke burned airways. "What was that?" I gasped.

Eric turned his head slightly to glance at me. "That was a fear simulation," he explained. "None of it was real, don't worry. There's no fire."

I leaned forward and gripped the sides of my head in my hands. Everything was spinning. I couldn't feel my fingers and toes. The void ate at the edges of my vision even as I finally saw reality around me.

Wheels clacked on the tile floor and Eric's face dropped in view in front of my face. "Prior, breathe," he ordered. "Look at me. Nod if you can hear me."

My head bobbed almost involuntarily. I couldn't speak. There wasn't enough oxygen in the room.

Eric's face disappeared and I let out a low whine as I exhaled. "In and out, that's all you can do," his disembodied voice assured me. "It was your first time. It'll get better." My brain refused to make sense of his words. I had to focus on breathing. Later I could think about how they wanted to subject me to that misery again.

I closed my eyes. Eric didn't like that. Two fingers tapped the bottom of my chin. "Keep those open. Atta girl," he cooed.

Slowly, I forced myself back into something resembling calmness. My hands shook when I took them away from my head but if I concentrated, I could control the shaking. "Why do you do that to us?" I asked Eric.

He was crouched in front of me, eyes carefully trained on every twitch and shaking breath I was taking. "Why would you put someone through that kind of misery?" I pressed.

"To ever be able to conquer your fears, you have to be aware of what they are," Eric answered. I tried to arch an eyebrow. "You signed on to the faction of bravery and protection. What did you expect? To live in fear for the rest of your life? Fear's kind of the antithesis of Dauntless. We try to eradicate it as efficiently as possible. That means confronting it head on."

I batted away one of his hands when he tried to adjust the hair in front of my face. "And the logic behind making us sit in that hellscape for ages on end?" I retorted. "I get confronting fears, but how on Earth does suffering through for that long make any sense?"

Eric squinted for a long moment, studying me. Then he stood and flipped the stool back upright so he could sit at the computer terminal once more. A few taps on the screen and a timer flipped up dead center in bright red numbers.

3:42.

After a moment he moved my time to the side and started clicking through a file manager. I could see my friends names followed by date stamps. Their results. Eric opened every single one, lining up the timers along the edge of the screen.

"Even the slowest one of your fellow initiates only went under for twenty minutes," Eric said quietly. "And most don't get a fear they were so oblivious to on the first go like you did. It feels like forever in there, but you're not under for that long."

My complaints felt shallow when I saw how long Christina had spent in her fear simulation. Or even Will. Both had taken more than ten minutes. Was Eric right? Was I complaining unduely? If I had gotten out from the situation in less than a handful of minutes, then I must not have been too afraid of the fire.

The panic attack still struggling to reassert itself disagreed with that logic.

Eric turned back to look at me, squinting for another second before falling back into a familiar cocky smile. "Wanna go for round two?"

I'm proud to say that I was feeling well enough to muster a sufficiently deadpan glare. "Ha ha," I said. "I would rather go for another round in the fighting ring with Peter right now than go under again."

Barking out a laugh, Eric shook his head. He gestured towards the door and said I was free to go. Granted, my legs shook and the halls wobbled in my view, but I got far, far away from that hallway.