Disclaimer: I don't own Divergent.
It's early in the morning, so early in fact, that Eric's stifling a yawn as he climbs out of bed and quickly gets ready for the day. Sunlight streams in through the window, illuminating the whole apartment.
Can he even remember the last time he didn't have any work obligations? Was it on that day when the rankings went up? When he and Tobias Eaton finally stopped acknowledging each other? That was six months ago. Neither of them are initiates anymore.
Eric finishes getting dressed in record time. He's got an important meeting with Max scheduled for today, and he wouldn't miss it for anything. He knows he's one of the only people still in the running for the position of youngest Dauntless leader. When his shirt and pants have been smoothed down, his teeth are brushed, and his shoes are on his feet, he slips out of his apartment and into the hallways of the Dauntless compound.
As he's traversing the corridors, he thinks of how far he's come since transferring from Erudite. He no longer lives in the same house as his parents, he now has his own place at Dauntless headquarters. He traded his boring school uniform for a wardrobe of black clothes, military gear, and various studs and rings for his nose, lips, and eyebrows. Add that to the tattoos covering his arms, neck, chest, and back, and his mother would surely claim to not know him if she saw him today.
Maggie, poor Maggie. Eric feels very sorry for her, actually. It wasn't till her golden child left her that she finally thought to check up on her son, and even then, she couldn't muster a decent apology for how she'd treated him. Well, Eric won't be thinking about her much longer. He's an independent adult now. He can make the decision to go no-contact forever.
Eric walks into the area of the Dauntless compound where you can see out the windows into the intersection below. A bit further away, he can see a cluster of high buildings that dominate the city's skyline. He recognizes them as belonging to the Erudite sector.
One particular building is just close enough that Eric's able to peer through its windows. He sees what looks like a kitchen and a couple people moving around within it. It's an awfully familiar sight, and it's familiar for a reason. The two people are Eric's parents, Maggie and Jeffrey. It's his, no, their house he's spying on.
Eric chooses that moment to stop everything and just watch the two he used to call Mom and Dad.
It's odd, he should be indifferent, yet his curiosity's gotten too strong to resist. How are Maggie and Jeffrey holding up without either him or Megan? Are they both still grieving, or did they move on in that business-as-usual way commonly observed in the Erudite?
Eric trains his gaze on Maggie as she slumps over the kitchen table. She keeps on stirring her coffee, but somehow never gets around to drinking it. She just sits and stares at the emptiness in front of her.
Soon Jeffrey wanders over and gives her right shoulder a nudge, but even then, she hardly reacts.
Eric continues watching. Now Maggie's stare meanders in a supposedly random direction, so she ends up looking directly into Eric's eyes. Can she see him for real? Does she somehow know what he's up to?
Eric gets that the answer to both questions is a hard "no". Still, he feels too uncomfortable to hold his mother's gaze, so he turns and hurriedly walks off.
This is just one more day on which Maggie won't hear from him.
As random as it is, the first thing my hands find when I stumble to the bathroom sink is the set of hair clippers I bought yesterday. And then, while I'm still blinking the clouds from my eyes, I turn the clippers on and touch them to my head the way I did when I still lived with Marcus. I fold one of my ears to protect it from the blades, just like I'd always do. I know how to twist and shift so I can see as much of the back of my head as possible. This ritual calms my nerves and makes me feel focused and steady.
When I finish, I brush the bits of hair from the back of my neck and sweep them into the trash can. Really, I had more of an Abnegation morning than a Dauntless one. I showered quickly and ate a plain breakfast, and I woke to an apartment that had been cleaned from top to bottom. Only difference is, I'm wearing the Dauntless black that's by now usual for me. I make myself look in the mirror as I'm going out, so I can feel sure that I've purged myself of Stiffness for good.
I walk quickly toward the Pit, emerging through an arch built into the wall. I avoid the edge of the path, though a bunch of Dauntless kids, all of them shrieking with laughter, run right along it, and I ought to be braver than they are. I don't know if bravery is something you acquire more of with age, like wisdom, but I think here, bravery is the highest form of wisdom, the awareness that life can and should be lived without fear.
It's one of the sole moments in my day that I can philosophize about Dauntless life, because the rest of the time, I'm running back and forth to fulfill all types of demands. I'll be visiting the conference room next to Max's office today, first thing this morning, in fact. He said it's on the tenth floor, so here I am riding the elevator with a group of Dauntless going to work. They don't all know each other, but two of them must be colleagues, and they spend the entire ascent chatting.
"They've narrowed it down to, what? Three people?" The taller of the men, the one with the jet-black comb-over, slurps the coffee from his mug noisily. Then he looks at his shorter friend, a guy with auburn hair.
"Two," the friend says, shrugging. "The process is overly competitive, but that's leadership for you."
Oh yeah, that's right. I'm supposed to be going to that meeting where they'll assess me and see if I'm the best fit for Dauntless leadership. A position recently opened up, and they want someone as young as me.
But what Comb-Over said is news to me. Only two candidates are still in the running? Me and one other person? So who's the guy or girl I'll have to compete with?
I keep listening to the two men. Comb-Over doesn't seem to be particularly invested. "They're drawing from a pool of inexperienced youth," he says, snorting. "Don't try and tell me this is serious."
Auburn Hair starts talking about the merits of choosing from the younger generation, but that's exactly where I stop listening. My body gets all jittery and I tap my foot on the ground as I wait for the elevator to reach my floor. When it does, I step out and look around for the door to Max's office.
I'm not sure where it could be, but then I spot a dark head in the middle of a conference room that has glass walls. Eric. I immediately hone in on him, partly because he's most likely that other candidate I'll have to watch out for, and partly because I wanna know his whereabouts even if we aren't heading to the same place.
As I'm walking up, I get a glimpse of Max, who stands near Eric in the conference room. He sees me through the glass and gives a wave for me to join him and Eric inside. I do just that, my heart beating with anticipation, but also an eagerness that comes with knowing my adult life is about to begin.
The atmosphere in the conference room is tenser than if Max had placed a bomb in the room somewhere and told Eric to find it before it exploded. Eric feels as though he might explode first, but before he can even move, Max waves at someone standing on the other side of the glass.
"Uh, excuse me," Eric says tentatively. He gives the oldest Dauntless leader a quizzical look. "Who are we waiting for?" He'd gotten the impression that they'd be talking one-on-one.
Max answers that question the same way he answered all of Eric's other questions. Which is to say, he gives no answer at all. But it turns out he doesn't need to. The door swings open without a warning, and Tobias pushes his way in.
"Sorry I'm late," he gasps. Max quietly motions for him to take a seat, and he does, next to Eric.
"Well, thank you for showing up," Max says, eyebrows raised, when Tobias is in his chair. "Did I interrupt your sleep?"
Eric lets out a partially suppressed laugh as Tobias stares, face frozen, at his superior.
Max just shrugs it off and moves on. He clears his throat, then steers the conversation to the main subject of the day. "So as I already told you," he says, "I'm meeting with you to hear your thoughts. Do you have any ideas for what might be good for Dauntless?" He sits and folds his hands atop the table, then he gives an expectant look to both Eric and Tobias. "Specifically, when it comes to the initiation process," he adds.
I may as well get the ball rolling, Eric thinks. He's the first one to speak up. "I do… have some ideas," he begins. "I think we need to make some major changes."
Max simply glances at him. He seems to be asking, And what kind of changes?
Eric looks back at Max, but he no longer sees the face of his soon-to-be boss. He sees the face of Jeanine, his former teacher, as she stands in front of him, drawing a diagram on a whiteboard. Handing down instructions to him. "The thing that bridges our two factions is the spirit of competition," she said, referring to Dauntless and Erudite. "It keeps our cultures alive amidst Abnegation oppression."
Right then, Eric shares an overview of his plan, which really came from Jeanine. "I think initiation needs to do more to foster the spirit of competition," he says. Then he remembers this other thing Jeanine said.
"You see, competition makes us better…"
Eric repeats her line. "Competition makes us better…"
"By bringing out the best, strongest parts of us," the Jeanine in Eric's memory finishes.
"Because it brings out the best, strongest parts of us," Eric recites. He speaks with absolute conviction. "Right now, our initiates are competing against the system alone. They're striving for a particular score in order to advance. I think they should be competing against each other for spots."
For the first time since he apologized for showing up late, Tobias speaks. "You want us to have a limited number of spots?" he asks incredulously. "After just a few weeks of training?"
"Yes," says Eric.
"And if they don't get a spot?" challenges Max.
"They end up factionless," Eric replies. He makes himself sound as indifferent as possible, and shrugs. "That's what happens when one doesn't work hard enough. If we're to be seen as hardworking, joining us should be a privilege. Not a guarantee."
"Please tell me you're joking," Tobias counters, looking as riled up as when Eric said the S-word in front of him. "I didn't join Dauntless 'cause I was already good in combat. I joined so I could learn how to be brave."
Suddenly, Max is looking at Tobias. "Four," he says, "if you don't agree, then how would you improve Dauntless?" He sits back in his chair and waits.
Tobias appears to think for a long time. Finally he says proudly, "I'd go back to fostering real bravery instead of stupid brutality. Teach the initiates to protect the weak against the strong. Make it illegal for them to beat each other up."
"So we can all hold hands and sing a song together?" Eric shakes his head in disgust. "You want to turn Dauntless into Abnegation."
It's not the most obvious of call-outs. Still, Tobias just about loses his temper upon hearing that. He points a finger at Eric's face. "Don't you dare accuse me of treason," he snarls.
"I don't need to," Eric fires back. "I already know." He smiles, and it's the smile a sadistic murderer wears just before pulling the trigger.
The infuriated, yet simultaneously crushed, look on Tobias' face tells Eric just what he needs to know. Tobias may have won the race to the first-place rank, but it's Eric who'll win this fight. Slowly, Tobias exhales, then he looks over at Max. "To be honest, sir…" He hesitates, taking a moment to choose the words that best fit. "I don't think this is the right place for me. You once asked me if I'd like to work in the training room. Well, I'm realizing that that's where I belong."
"Eric, will you excuse us, please?" asks Max. Eric, no longer able to hide his delight, nods and makes a beeline for the door. He's still smiling when he shuts the door behind him and makes his way down the hallway. He doesn't care that Tobias can't even see it, he's dancing a little as he moves away from the conference room and turns the nearby corner.
"Thank you, sir," I say to Max. He's sitting right next to me, in the chair Eric just vacated. When I lied to him and told him I was feeling too much of the pressure, he seemed to have only sympathy and concern reserved for me. No suspicion at all regarding my true motives. That's good. Yet at the same time, I feel like I just suffered the most devastating defeat.
I know now I can't put it all on the line just to become a leader. I can't. Who'd expect me to? There'd be a target on my back from the first day. Probably assassinated within the year, if Eric talks loudly enough about my being Divergent.
Oh, sure. As of now, he doesn't have any proof. But just a single allegation is all it'll take to get Jeanine on my radar. And then I'd be done. Dead.
Some would say it's just my paranoia. I know it isn't. I know how many others have been assassinated because they caused too much of a stir. Martin Luther King, Jr. Malcolm X. Fred Hampton. Many others whose names we'll never learn, because they were forced into silence before their shouts reached the masses.
So I told Max a bunch of lies. Said I don't truly have what it takes to lead. That I'll be honest with him about my shortcomings, so I won't end up taking the position and failing in a couple of months. He seemed to understand, and told me I could consider it done. I asked about a possible position in the control room in addition to my future vocation as initiation instructor, and that got him talking.
Now, after I thanked him, Max is grinning at me. "Don't mention it," he says. The skin of his hand feels especially rough on my shoulder. "There was never any option but you."
It could just be me, but is that disappointment I hear in his voice?
I check out his face for a second. His smile's gone away, and his expression is more crestfallen than anything. He got no satisfaction from this result. He must still want me to be a leader.
But I can't. I can't let him know that, either.
I leave the conference room feeling like more weight's been placed on my shoulders than ever. Yet there is a silver lining in this. Max may be one of the worst faction traitors I've ever met, and probably responsible at least in part for Amar's death. But I can't help but feel some gratitude toward him. He let me go easily, while barely putting up a fight, and that's really all I have to ask of the Dauntless who'll be watching me.
Eric's lying in wait for me around the corner. I try to walk past him, then he all of a sudden grabs my forearm. His nails feel like a rattlesnake's fangs, with the way they all stick to my flesh at once.
"Careful, Stiff," he confronts me. "If you try to dismantle everything we've built…"
I interrupt him, at the same time yanking my wrist free. "We?" I ask, with a shake of my head. "You were never one of them."
An angry glare twists Eric's features. I just keep on talking.
"Besides," I say, "I'm no leader. I don't wanna have to… be a force for change, or whatever they call it. I just wanna live my life in peace."
"You'll have to live alone, if that's what you want," Eric says in a cold voice.
I told him only lies, of course. It's not like I want to put a stop to the fight and abandon the factionless I swore to serve. He'll never catch me doing that. I'll just have to do it through a different channel, through a mode other than leadership. Actually, I'm sure I've already found it. I've been helping Zeke out in the control room, and this one time, he let me play around with several of the security cameras. I pulled up footage of Jeanine Matthews and Max talking in his office. What were they discussing? The Dauntless leadership candidates, of course.
But I don't ever bring this up to Eric. His infatuation with Jeanine would cancel it out, anyway. "Open your eyes," I say to him, "will you?"
It's like the glare on his face is permanently stuck there. I keep on trying.
"Max doesn't like you," I say. "None of them do. You're the last person they would've picked."
A lightning bolt of fury flashes behind Eric's eyes. "You keep insulting me," he hisses, "and you think I'll come crawling back?"
I'm already retreating. "No," I reply. "I don't think you will."
Eric smiles. But the smile is full of bitterness and pain. "Good," he's saying quietly. "You get it now." And then he turns and walks away.
I lower my gaze and look at my shoes. I know. I said I wouldn't care what he did anymore. But I still do. It's still an enormous tragedy, at least to me. Someone who once gave me a whole lot of help is now actively causing harm. And I have no other option except to let him wreak havoc on communities like Ysabelle's, on classes full of initiates much younger than we are.
Well, whatever comes to pass, I'll just have to continue with my journey forward. And those goals I'm working toward haven't changed one bit. I'm still gonna try to oust this corrupt Dauntless government. I'll still aim to help the factionless break free of their chains.
Yeah, it's true my journey just got exponentially harder, but no matter what, I'll keep my faith with me.
AN: We're just one chapter away from the end now. Next up is the epilogue, and there'll be a time skip to the middle of the second book, which is where, as you probably know, Eric meets his end. But will he die in the same way in this story? Only one way to find out. Till next time, readers.