A/N: As you guys should know at this point, I do tend to favor the more harsh side of canon. This chapter includes another fear simulation and includes the death of a character within the simulation. So, a warning in case that bothers you!
Caleb showed up in my fears. I hadn't expected it.
It wasn't that I thought I'd never fear for my family - it seemed an obvious concern to have regardless of "faction before blood" - but opening my eyes within the simulation to be face to face with Caleb still sent a shock through me. Even beyond seeing him for the first time since transferring, I felt my body shudder as I realized his face was drained of all color.
"Caleb?" I called out. As I fought against the confusion clouding my own thoughts, I realized it wasn't just his face that was pale. The hand that stretched out to me was trembling, white as a sheet. Crimson blood dripped down from his palm. I staggered towards him, all other reason thrown to the wind.
In the depths of my mind, I questioned why the room we were in was nondescript and blurred, like a bad dream. That tiny bit of wonder drowned under the worry that overtook me.
A dark stain had blossomed on his chest turning the navy of his blazer to black. "What happened? Caleb, talk to me!" I demanded. I pushed the blazer aside, exposing the shirt beneath. It, too, was stained with fresh blood. The tips of his collar were tinted pink as the fibers there soaked up what little blood had travelled upwards.
His lips quivered and he stammered mindlessly. There was no answer to my question, no reason behind what had happened. I frantically searched for a wound, an explanation for why he was bleeding out here now in my arms. There! A ragged hole punched through his gut. I tugged off my own jacket to bundle up and press against it, trying the only bit of triage that I'd learned. "It's going to be okay. It's going to be fine," I promised over and over.
Caleb shook his head. I pleaded with him, bargained that I'd do anything for him to open his eyes, to fight the blood loss. In a bout of strength, he twisted his head to spit out a glob of blood and saliva.
"Don't try to talk. C'mon, Caleb. Stay with me," I pled. My jacket wasn't enough. There was blood seeping down his back, too, I realized. Too late. The wound had gone through him. A gunshot. How did-
What had happened?
Caleb's breathing rattled in his chest. Then, he stopped.
My legs were off the footrest and even before I opened my eyes fully I was shoving off of the chair. Memory directed me to face Four moreso than conscious realization that he was sitting a few feet away. "How dare you," I spat. Wires pulled at the leads that were still connected to me, popping off as I thrust a finger at my instructor.
"That was beyond ridiculous. My brother. Bleeding out in my arms?" I raged.
Four's face had that ugly combination of discomfort and resolve. Well, good for him. I didn't care how uncomfortable he was; he'd still put me under and set me up against that simulation. "Tris, it's just a test," he started.
"You don't need to test for that!" I shouted. "Everyone's going to freak out at their family dying. Why- Come on. It's fucking cruel!"
His jaw clenched. "Are you done?" Four said.
I exhaled. Here I was again, going off on someone way farther up the food chain than I was. I had to bite my tongue to keep from continuing my rant. "Sure," I said roughly.
"Your time was still fine, by the way," Four said flatly. I gave a half-hearted glance over at the screen as I picked off the rest of the leads on my hands and face. Eight minutes and change. About as long as my first ocean simulation had been.
"Am I good for the day, then?" I asked. With Four's wave of his hand I left the simulation room. Will gave me a curious look as I stormed through the hall before taking my place. His times were getting pretty good; everyone's were tightening up in the ten and eleven minute range.
I knew that I shouldn't have walked out of the room. Eight minutes was the point that Eric and Lauren had flagged for me based on my simulation awareness. What I should have done rather than start an argument was realize that their test was doing exactly what it was supposed to - finding a genuine fear of mine. Almost. There might have been another layer to it beyond just seeing someone I loved die.
I had made it out of the hallway and was nearly to the cafeteria. It was dinnertime and the increase in foot traffic was noticeable. It was enough to keep me from turning around and walking right on back to where I'd come from. Slipping into line and taking a tray was easier than confronting whatever that extra nuance could be. And far less embarrassing than apologizing to Four for having snapped.
The discomfort sat in my gut, taking up space that could have been filled with stew and biscuits. I stabbed at the bits of my meal that I couldn't finish. My friends still hadn't shown up. The last round of sims for the day always dragged on the longest, or so it felt when I was sitting on my own.
I never did deal well with that nagging voice in the back of my head. Impulsive decisions were great until the aftermath. I dragged myself to my feet and bussed my tray, readying myself to suck it up and admit my mistake to Four.
Then the universe gave me a distraction in the broad shouldered form of a certain Leader that I hadn't seen in days. He was getting out of the elevator and heading in the much less stressful direction of the Pit. My resolve swept out like the tide, and I turned to follow him instead of continuing on to the simulation corridor.
Yeah. I really don't deal well with that whole 'guilty conscience' thing.
Trailing behind Eric, I struggled with coming up with a casual way to run into him. Stalking him through the halls wasn't exactly the image I wanted to present after not seeing him for a single morning all week. I just didn't know where to start. Most of our conversations had been ones that he'd struck up or had segued out from training. We did have a sort of friendship though, and that thought kept me from giving up.
He stopped inside one of the shops on the mid level. I slowed down to see if he was going to re-emerge. That was all, I told myself. I'd see if he was coming out in another minute and then I'd turn around. Five steps, four, three. All too soon I ran out of space to travel. It was time to turn around just like I'd planned.
So naturally I ended up inside the shop. There was wood covering one of walls and a long counter in front of that. The rest of the space was filled with little tables and chairs with mismatched vinyl coverings. I blinked because it just didn't seem quite normal to see a mural of coffee and pastries painted on the white stone walls of the Pit. And yet here I was standing in a tidy little coffee house in the center of Dauntless life.
Eric was at the counter, the bridge of his nose pinched between two fingers. Some combination of the woman behind the register moving away and my shuffled steps inside had him turning to look around. His head tipped to the side ever so slightly as his eyes met mine. "Why am I not surprised?" he said.
My hands balled into fists in my pockets. I stepped into line behind him and stared up in the direction of the menu. I wasn't actually paying attention to any of the words there, but I was able to keep the tint of pink off my cheeks. "What? You're the only one who drinks coffee?" I retorted.
He shook his head, a good natured smirk on his lips. "Didn't say that. Just said I'm not surprised. You finished the sims quick again," he replied, matter-of-fact.
"What can I say, I'm the fastest daydreamer this side of the lake," I said. The woman behind the counter returned with a toasted muffin. My mouth watered as I watched the butter slowly melt. And I'd just eaten, too. Why had I bothered with lamb stew when there were double chocolate delights just a short walk away?
Eric ordered two coffees, and I insisted that he really, really shouldn't have. I didn't like the way that the cashier looked between the two of us. Or how there wasn't just one fork on the plate she passed to him. Yet I didn't protest when he pointed with his coffee to one of the booths in the back of the room. I trailed behind him and sat down in a squeak of vinyl.
He dumped nearly half a cup of sugar in one of the mugs before sliding it across the table to me. "Here. You're gonna need to work up to the bitter taste," he said. I stared at the mug for a moment before looking again at Eric.
"I just wanted to say hi," I insisted.
Eric nodded. He was adding a considerably more restrained amount of sugar to his own mug. "Hi," he said. "Now we can get to whatever you actually wanted to talk about." Smug bastard.
"I don't want to bother you. You've got more crap to deal with than one annoying Initiate," I insisted. I was still just toying with the handle on my coffee mug, not having committed to drinking from it.
Eric attacked the muffin, sighing quietly with the first bite. "Haven't gotten to eat since ten," he said.
"Don't you get a lunch break?" I asked.
He shook his head. "Nothing quite so structured. Every day's different for me. When I'm with you guys, sure. But if I need to be in Erudite for one and I have a meeting ending at noon then there's really no time," Eric explained. I blew on my coffee to cool it down some more and then risked a sip. It was bitter. But I liked the warmth and the slight vanilla aftertaste. This wasn't just mess hall brew.
"You didn't come up here to ask about Leadership responsibilities though," Eric commented. "So what's going on?"
I chewed on my tongue. Then I decided to just let go of my reservations and ask the damn questions that I'd wanted to all week. "How come you - or Lauren or Four - haven't made me confront touch in a sim?" I pressed.
It took Eric a moment to form his response. His gaze switched from meeting mine to locking on the empty air next to my ear. "So the whole point of phase two is identifying fears. If you already know what a fear is, there's not as much to be gained by just hammering someone with that fear. Especially when we only have so long for Initiation," Eric explained.
I'd pulled my hands back to wrap around each other in my lap. I tightened my grip now. "But… well what if it… isn't a fear that would show up in a timed situation? Like, maybe I'm not actually that brok-" I cut myself off before finishing my thought aloud.
I cleared my throat and ignored the way that Eric's expression had softened just so. "Maybe it's not a fear," I insisted.
He ran a hand through his hair and shifted in his seat. "Like I said before, everyone has fears. And there's nothing wrong with having them. No one in Dauntless is fearless. We're brave. We work past the things that limit us," Eric said firmly. "That's what you have to remember."
He wasn't agreeing with me. He still thought - knew - that touch was a fear. My throat tightened and I nodded rather than reply aloud.
"I've only been doing this for two years. A little less, actually, but this is my second time watching over you guys going through the process," he said. "I've seen a decent amount of fears already. And no one's experience is universal. What one person finds overwhelming can be incredibly simple for another. You're a perfect example."
I grimaced. Eric's head tilted again. "You didn't let me finish. You're a perfect example. With fire - that first simulation that I gave you - do you know how many grown, Initiated Dauntless still freeze when put into that situation?" he asked.
"No?" I answered.
"Most of them," Eric said. Something about the way he said it so matter of fact didn't have me question whether or not he was sugar coating it for me. He was speaking to me plainly, not an ounce of cockiness in his demeanor or words. "Now they still react and they still find ways to push through and get out - because that's what they've learned - but almost all of them freeze the first time that we show them the situation. You didn't. You powered through in under three minutes. That's impressive. That's something you can be proud of."
I picked at my cuticles with my thumbnail until they stung. "That's- okay- But that's not something stupid to be afraid of. Fire'll kill you," I retorted.
"Yeah, it will," Eric said. "But it doesn't matter if the thing you're afraid of is fire or if it's butterflies. Anything can lock you up in an important moment. What matters is being able to work through the problem. Being braver than the fear."
"But what are you supposed to do when the thing you're afraid of is just part of life?" I asked quietly.
Eric rubbed at his face. He looked about as frustrated as I felt. My stomach was flipping itself into knots again. Everything that he was talking about made sense, but I couldn't use any of it to stop that sinking feeling that I wasn't going to be able to stop being afraid. That I was broken for freezing over something so stupid and normal.
"There have been Initiates with all kinds of fears. And what I've seen it doesn't matter if they're afraid of the most logical thing or their own damn shadow. If it's important to you to find a way past it, then you're going to make it happen. The ones that stay, the ones that are still here, are the ones that don't back down. From anything," Eric said.
Then he added, "And they know when to ask for help, too. They ask questions. They look for resources. They don't let discovering a seemingly unbeatable fear be the end of confronting it."
I stopped picking at my fingers. "You get it? What I'm saying?" Eric asked. Slowly I nodded. His shoulders finally relaxed and he went back to eating. I watched him for a few minutes, taking the occasional sip from my coffee. It had cooled to a perfect temperature. Not that I was paying much attention to it any more.
Sure, I had nodded. But I wasn't exactly certain what Eric meant by saying it all. Ask for help, got it. But… was that an invitation to ask him? I was already asking a lot from him on the mornings that I got him for warming up.
"So," I said without quite having the casual affect I wanted, "who am I supposed to go to to ask for advice on… my fear?"
Eric's face broke out into a rueful grin. If he didn't have a mouthful of muffin I would have expected him to bark out a laugh. Swallowing, he said, "Me, stupid. Or Lauren if you'd rather talk to another girl. I would be, ah, wary of asking number boy just because he's got shit advice on the subject. Doesn't have a lot of fears to compare methods with."
I wasn't really listening to his commentary on Four. A part of me was just relieved that I wasn't wrong; Eric was actually offering to listen and help me with my fear. "I don't even really think that you need much help," he insisted. "You're overthinking this one because - and I get it - it's something you're not able to punch or avoid. Those are my favorite bits of advice, by the way. Just sock whatever's bothering you in the jaw or give it a wide berth. Applicable to obnoxious squadmates or sharks alike."
"Sharks?" I asked with a raise of my eyebrow.
He shrugged and picked up his coffee mug. "Not speaking from experience, personally. But some people might find them a bit terrifying," he countered.
"Some people," I echoed, deadpan. I didn't miss the slight shudder that passed through him. But he was Eric. He bandied about one of his fears like a joke. He didn't let it control him.
"You wanna talk about it tomorrow morning? Your fears, not mine," Eric asked from behind his mug.
My stomach did one final flip. I powered through and nodded nonetheless. "If you've got time," I said lightly.
"I've got this one Initiate who's kind of clingy and runs races real slow, but I can scrape out a few minutes from my usual wiping the floor with her to give you some pointers."
I'm not proud. I stuck my tongue out at him rather than come up with a more clever retort.
A/N: Thanks to everyone for being so patient between updates as always. I really do appreciate it as being stressed over not updating "often enough" usually makes it harder to write, not easier ^^;;