Light beamed down on the bed sheets beside us, seemingly shifting the color of the fibers that mended in one fabric of black, and now a changed light fixture made such darkness produce color. The seas of violet cloth waved and ebbed over our legs, up to my lower back, covering our tangled legs. Dust motes drifted and swirled lightly through the rays of near white gold. It seemed I was always the first to wake around him. Eric still slept beneath me, his chest heaved up and down slowly, his snores soft if present at all. Watching him like that made me smile, made me grateful for the thawing I made happen in his heart, that he let me close enough. My lungs inhaled, and I turned and rested my cheek on my crossed arms, which lay on Eric's chest. My lips curled as I took in his parted lips, his removed piercings, though some were present, including the one in his lip. His head was tilted to the side and was slightly eaten by his pillow, his blonde hair was curling and messy, he looked years younger while he slept, and part of me marveled at the lack of a sneer on his face, or furrowed eyebrows of disappointment.

One of Eric's arms tightened around my lower back, and the other rested beside us. My shirt had been lifted up to my upper back, and I was in little clothing aside from it, still I smiled again when he huffed and rubbed his fingers up my spine, his index and middle finger rubbing up each vertebrae, rubbed between them and spanned across the back of my ribs once his hand reached the area. I waited, smiling sleepily at him, my eyes threatened to shut and pull me under again, his warmth seeped onto my skin and into my very heart. Patience was on my side thankfully, and Eric's lips began to curl at the corners, "Hey," I mumbled to him, in a greeting of pleasant mornings. He sighed softly and opened his eyes to look at me, the grey replaced with the prettiest blue I'd ever seen, like angelite. My own eyes widened in awe and I stared, taking in how his eyes flicked across my face.

Then he used his other hand to brush his fingers against my cheek bone, caressing back into my hairline he pushed my messy hair behind my ear to look at me better. His eyes followed the motion, and he watched as he felt up my hair, fingers rubbing through the silk, watching how it grew shiny and then dim. His other hand spreading, spanning his fingers along my ribs, his palm rested over the line of my spine, which dipped in. My lips had long betrayed me and curled into a pleased smile, "You shouldn't touch people's hair without permission first," He ceased his motions and looked at me, his eyes half open and his lips pressed together. His eyebrows were darker than his hair, and were very nice as opposed to most. He stared at me, tried to pick me apart and figure me out. His warmth seeped deep into my skin, which made me lay my head down on him. He tensed a fraction before he wrapped his arms around me, he didn't say anything, and let me fall asleep as he pet my hair and twirled the tendrils between his fingers.

He let me sleep longer than what I would have liked him to, but at the same time I wasn't regretful. If I was welcome in his personal space, in his cold abode, I would have stayed with him all through the day. We weren't together though, and that was what ate at me for the next few days. I hadn't any clue if he saw me the way I recognized I saw him, I wanted him in a way I thought I would never want another man again. I wanted to wake up to him in the mornings, wanted to feel his skin to mine, wanted to kiss him, just once. I wanted the things I thought up in my grey matter at ungodly hours of the dark sector of day. I wanted, him. The man who called me "Stiff" for the two years I'd been in Dauntless, the man who yelled and hissed at me during my initiation and almost threw knives at me himself. I wanted to be the girl he kept, rather than pushed away. I wanted to know him, and knowing was half the battle.


Dark room, the fallen closed shades expelled light from the glass and obsidian office space that belonged to Max, our main Leader of Dauntless. The carpet smelt of chemicals and his desk was toppled with papers, he sat with his fingertips pressed together in his leather chair, his eyes a furious glare and a thick frown on his dark skin. He raised hell, shouting and throwing things and hissing insults and threats at my face. I stood my ground, Johanna had been seen negotiating with the Factionless, and giving them supplies, I failed to get her to confess. It was an enormous setback, and an even bigger threat, the representative of Amity was not only accused of capital treason, but of harboring, hiding, and assisting radical revolting groups who not only sought to shut our Faction system down, but kill hundreds or thousands of people in the process. They wanted total control, and now they had the means to do so, and we didn't know how long Johanna had been doing any of this, or how prepared the Factionless now were to carry out their plans, because of me. Max would've had me for dinner if Eric hadn't saved my skin.

I was nearly denounced, but Eric suffered just as much as I did. Max had more mercy for Eric than he did for me, he never favored me like he did the more ruthless leaders, he most likely thought I couldn't hold my own, or pull more. Needless to say, Eric and I were assigned to overseeing Training, and doing paperwork. I didn't mind either of them, I was more grateful than anything, even though I loved being active or out in the field. Eric however, was the picture of rage. Not three days ago I was sleeping on him in his bed, and now he was sending me an earful of curses and phrases I knew he didn't mean. Eric was all about looking fearsome, all about being out there in the city, dealing in the way that normal soldiers would, not type on a computer or tablet all day, and he expressed in full how much he detested it. Even though I knew he didn't truly mean most of the hurtful things he'd said, some still got to me, and it made me retaliate. Doors slammed and fists clenched, glares were exchanged and tears brimmed eyes. He became stone cold again, and left me alone in my apartment to work. I hated being alone.


Two weeks later the leaders and trainees sat in the control room, arms crossed or fingers laced, narrowed eyes at the screen whenever some brave soul left Dauntless to join another faction. It was rare, and that was what upset some of the more senior leaders the most. Some were former Candor and Erudite, so they bet and took tabs and observed every name that would be called that year, and hand picked a select amount of kids they wanted to join the faction as per their traits, averages, history, etc. Some of the outward transfers were shocking, one of the leaders sons left to join Abnegation, and he threw me a dirty look, like I had been the one to take him away. Transfer day was always hard.

I stood at the alcove to the net, staring up at the bright grey sky, watching as Eric as always greeted the train hoppers. My arms were crossed along my ribs, and my hair was pulled into a high pony tail, my eyes were flicking between Eric and the dark shadow of a man I hadn't seen for nearly two months. He listened to me at the very least and had yet to experience another episode in the control room. My body tensed as the first jumper flew through the hole, letting out a delighted burst of a laugh. My eyes locked onto the bright red and yellow clothing. Amity was the first to jump.

The initiate was lanky and tall, awkward and strange but he looked a little more than humble and curious when he stood in front of me, his blue eyes wide. His hair was a copper color, and it contrasted with his bronzed skin from the sunlight. I shot an easy smile to him to keep him from freaking out before I flicked my eyes back to the next falling figure. Blue. A girl.

12 Dauntless-born and 10 transfers, it was the average number of teens who filed in year after year. It was almost the beginning of fall now, which was good, everything was moving on schedule. I kept my arms crossed and watched as Eric fell from the sky silently and slowly drew closer to the mass of teens under my authority. I tilted my head and refused to acknowledge the glaring at the back of my skull and spoke up, "Dauntless-borns, meet in the mess hall, report to Lauren while you're at it, you already know how it all goes," I watched with critical eyes as they broke off in small groups from the horde and slunk off into the dark hallway behind me. The new faces looked up to me with curious and guarded eyes, they were fresh for the picking and had already chosen who they'd look up to, who they'd fear, who their friends and enemies were without realizing this faction was a sitting 450,000 strong army of trained killers and defenders. Unaware that regardless of who they opted to declare friends or enemies with that they'd end up either saving or being saved by that very same person. The prospect made me smile, that they were so naive.

I turned half way to gesture them to follow, like sheep. We were training sheep to shave their fur and grow fangs, to pad their hooves into claws and transform their being into dogs. Eric was like that once, it only happens once you're in the heat of it. I spoke up, "Your real trainer has been called for active duty, I have been called in to co-train you all in her place,"

"What's your name?" The Erudite girl, second jumper asked me. I kept a still expression, "Tris," I told her as the roaring waters of white caught up with my ears, I opened my mouth to speak but Four beat me to it, "I am your main instructor, you will be answering to me if you have any concerns to voice. Now, here we have the Chasm, one of Dauntless's power sources and one of the most dangerous places to hang about. One daring jump off the edge will kill you, it has happened and will happen again so I suggest you stay away from it," he informed. My eyes once again caught the dim blue and white lanterns that rested embedded in the walls and on the floor of dauntless, I felt like an initiate again. Four took in a breath, shooting a look over his shoulder to make sure no sheep wandered off, "Next we have the Pit," He paused and I relaxed, still walking straight and even shouldered, "The center of life in Dauntless, you can find most shops and entertainment here, and while it looks imposing now you'll grow to love it," He explained further, while I caught the curious and ogling trainees expressions.

We came upon the doors to the dorms and there, Eric took over and explained the similar terms to training, and like a few years ago they gained a few protests, to which he shot down. Eric dismissed them and Four lead them all to the mess hall, Eric hung back with me, mumbling things to me like collected data and any character flaws he spotted in any of the transfers. He didn't bother to apologize for arguing with me a few weeks ago. I brushd it out of my concerns, it was two weeks ago, it didn't matter anymore. I stayed silent, and took in as much information that he could give me in the short walk to the mess hall until he grabbed just above my elbow. I froze and spun to look at him.

Eric looked down at me, his eyebrows twitching and his frown less obvious. I wondered if he slept well last night, he looked tired and weary. Part of me exploded with questions concerning his health and I worried for him the tiniest bit until he asked something, "Are you okay?"

"I'm sorry?" I asked, narrowing my eyes in confusion,

"Seeing Four again, has he done anything?"

"Why, are you worried?" I asked teasingly, but the stern look that fell onto his face told me he was serious and I tried my best to hold back something snappy. I wet my lips and looked away from him before turning searching his eyes. They were darker than the usual steel, and glossier. "Are you okay?" I asked him, stepping closer to him and pushing him gently to the wall with my hand to his chest. He looked down at me curiously and still rather distressed. When he didn't answer and avoided my eyes I barked his name, "Eric? What's up?"

"I need to talk to you," He mumbled to me, staring at me with those intense eyes. My shoulders fell and I stepped away from him and out of his grasp, answering him, "Okay. And yes, I'm fine," I told him turning away and holding three fingers up behind my back. I'd meet him in three hours, which would be in the training room.


I stood in the training room tinkering with the pistol I had been assigned, a glock 21. It was modified and made of air stripped stainless steel. It was a beautiful gun really. I stood at a metal table unloading its magazine and disassembling it, then cleaned it and reassembled it. I was reloading the magazine to complete the set when the double doors to the training room slammed open. The noise made me look up, expecting to see Eric I lowered the gun, but was shocked when someone grasped my neck and walked me away from the table.

Four stood before me, walking me backwards to a support steel beam that framed and held up the room. My back crashed unpleasantly against the cold metal and I shot him a murderous look as he squeezed his fingers. He shoved me harder against the metal and leaned closer to me, glaring me in the face and hissing, "So you're fucking Eric now?"

"Excuse me?" I retaliated, pushing against him and grabbing his wrist with one hand. His eyes narrowed into something fierce, and I began to think he really intended to hurt me. "You cheated on me remember?" I growled, staring him in the eyes with a promising look of pain, "Speaking of which, how's the whore?"

"Tighter than you ever were," He hissed, snarling his lip like an animal and getting closer to me, lifting me to my toes by my throat. I waited, not wanting to hurt him without a reason. He looked incredibly different now than he did two months ago, a light beard crawled over his face and his lip was split, his hair was a mess and oily. His eyes were what really got to me though, they were no longer the curious pools of mystery and adoration. Now they were consumed by bitterness and anger, all of which was directed at me. I didn't let his insult get to me and shoved away my disgust of his bluntness, I didn't want to know what absurdities he performed with a girl like her. "I'm not yours anymore Four, remember?" I told him and he growled at me, squeezing his fingers tighter and making my throat close up, beginning to cut my air path. I sputtered, digging my nails into the soft flesh of his wrist.

He grew closer and I could feel his stale breath brush my face, I crinkled my nose in disgust and tried to turn from him. Had he lost his mind? "You can't walk away from me Tris, I was your first,"

"But not the last,"

"So you did fuck him, you dirty slut," He snarled and slammed my skull to the metal. Hollow echoed through the room and I hissed and struggled against him, his grip grew tighter and suddenly I was robbed of my air. "Four!" I warned, choking and drowning nearly on nothing. He was strangling me off my feet with one hand. I kicked him when he didn't let go, and swung my forearm down against his wrist to make him release me. He stumbled and shot me a strange look before he lunged, throwing a fist, I ducked and rolled out of the way, catching whatever breath I could. I heard his bones crack when his hand hit the steel beam. I winced as he turned to me, like he hadn't just broken his hand and rushed me. I blocked and redirected his hit down, lifting my knee to his face. He wrapped his arms around me and dragged me to the floor, slamming me to the concrete. A short scream came from me when my head collided with the floor, he was on top of me, fumbling to restrain my arms, shouting that I'll be his again, that I was stupid to leave him, that I'll understand. I screamed and told him to go to hell as I slammed my head to his. Four lulled back like a sack of dough beaten too hard, and I bucked my waist up, rolling and knocking him over, I got on him now.

My hands flew, my lips held a snarl and a furious scream flew from my lips. He tried to block as my fist crashed down to his chest and his face, beating into him. My fingers and nails sought out his eyes and my other hand threw back to back hits. Get off me, is all I thought, don't touch me you sick bastard. I wasn't aware of how loud I was screaming, or that I was screaming those words over and over again. I slammed his head into the concrete beneath him a few times until I saw it a time to run. I scrambled from him and took a mad dash for the double doors. I heard him scuffle and scrape to his feet, he chased me and my fingers wrapped around the cool steel of my personal gun. I spun clicking the safety off and pushing a bullet into place, I held the sight at his head. He froze with wide eyes, rage ate at his facial expression when the shock dissolved. I widened my stance and glared down the sights, my finger hovering over the trigger, "Stay where you are, you sick fucker," He smirked at me and playfully raised his hands in surrender, "I will shoot you Four,"

"No you won't," he mumbled to me, "We have too much history,"

"History is doomed to repeat unless you learn from it," I hissed to him, adjusting my stance and squaring my shoulders. I would shoot him. I was ready to. Then the doors slammed open and someone called out, "Tris stop, don't shoot," it was Eric, and it was the first time I'd ever heard him like that. His voice was quick but deadly calm, and extremely worried. I didn't shoot, but I didn't relax either. My mind was filled with the horror that Four would have done to me if I didn't fight. His glare confirmed my vile thoughts and I held down bile. I listened to Eric's careful footsteps and picked up the murmurs from the trainees outside the doors. Several other heavier sounds echoed in my ears and I felt Eric slip the gun from my tense and shaky hands. I watched with dull eyes as Four was dragged from the room, he resisted and spit things at me.

I was sitting against the wall with a numb feeling eating at my skin and thoughts. I had really hoped things wouldn't go down this way, what had I done to make him snap? It surely wasn't the madness he was spouting. Had the woman he was with left him? Did he just finally lose his resolve when it came to coping? Why attack and take it out on me? I still loved him, even though he broke my heart and failed to surgically repair it with a dangerous set of needles and syringes. I leaned back and closed my eyes, and let the warm tears rush down my cheeks. I couldn't stop them if I wanted to. It was about time I let go and cried.

A few days later, Max told me I didn't have to train the initiate class anymore, and that Four had been sent to the fence in solitude as punishment for assault. Zeke had caught it all in the control room and called the Leadership wing. Eric was the quickest to respond and had grabbed a few dauntless he ran into on the way of charging through the complex to come and rescue me. On any other circumstance I would've laughed at the idea of Eric running like a maniac to save someone's life, let alone mine. And the image of him forcing people aside and knocking them to the ground was a surreal one. Instead I grew sober and graciously took in the announcement of my entitlement of Leadership in a week. My tattoos were also assigned, and I was ordered to get them done before next week. Max shot me a look of pity as I left the office, I still had his hand on my throat in a cruel dark bruise of purple. My body felt broken and my head had taken too many hits for my liking. Will was the one to patch me up in the hospital, telling me to get plenty of rest and to stay off my feet, to avoid doing anything strenuous for a few days and to have someone nearby to watch my condition. He expressed his concerns of the risk of me slipping into a coma. I took his advice and rested.


Now I was in my apartment, laying in my lonely bed with plenty of pillows beneath my pressured skull. I felt like I was dying, and my brain was trying to escape through my bones this wrecked body. I drifted in and out of consciousness and slept more than I had in a year in two days. My lungs refused sometimes to cooperate with me and blocked out airflow, and my body felt as if it were lead. Sometimes in my drifting I could hear Eric moving about in my apartment, doing dishes or watching TV. Once I heard him on the phone speaking with someone urgently, and the want to soothe his nerves washed into my being, not that I could do much about it. Sometimes I felt his hand check my temperature or adjust my sheets, other times he would linger in my room. I could feel him watching and worrying for me. His ever present aura set something off in me and I strove to get better, I was tired of catching bleary images of him frowning at me, looking so defeated. That wasn't the Eric I knew.

It was somewhere around one at night that I had woken myself to earth shattering pain and hot tears. I had sat there awake staring at my ceiling wondering why this had happened to me. I couldn't come up with an answer, so instead of sitting there feeling sorry for myself I got up, very gingerly and avoided tilting my head too much. My legs were weak when I pushed myself to a slow stand, and my feet felt tender on my bedroom bought carpet. I dared to venture to the bedroom door, which was slightly ajar without looking at myself in a mirror. Not that I wanted to see how awful I looked. My fingers pushed open my door a crack more, and my tired eyes landed on a sleeping Eric.

He lay on his back on the couch, his arm slung over his eyes and his lips pressed together. His ankles were crossed and he had a small black blanket draped over his legs. I was hurt and comforted by the sight, that he was treating himself so poorly. He could have gone home. It wasn't like my life was in jeopardy any longer. I stalked to the kitchen, glaring through the darkness and what little light the TV produced with flashing pictures. He was watching some old show, or movie. I didn't know where it came from but I was happy he tried to entertain himself. I made myself a glass of water and very slowly sipped on it, tilting my head back hurt, and felt like some bullet was struggling to push its way through the back of my skull. I set the cup down and walked back to the couch, looking at Eric as I sat down next to his head. Carefully I lifted his head after I got comfortable, and placed it in my lap. I fell asleep faster than usual right next to him.

Eric this time, woke before me, as he was making some herbal tea for me and I woke to his gentle nudging. It was refreshing to see his face clearly after fading in and out of sleep state for so long, it made me feel less lonely. The tea smelt of flowers and honey, and I shot him a questioning look as I sipped it. The flavors rushed my tongue, the curral in the steamy liquid aleing my sore and dry throat. I gave him a slight smile, to wash away the pain and worry on his face. He grinned at me when I drank half, drinking any more would make me tilt my head too much. Still even after that he was very mindful of me and my needs, and whenever I tried to get up he asked what I wanted, placing his hand on my leg to still me. After the first few hours of him doing everything for me I began to grow guilty, and downright refused to tell him what I was doing in the afternoon. Eventually he gave up and waited for my instruction if I did need help.

It was around 7 when I grew sleepy again, and I had the nerve to call the day of awakeness a win. It was small, and while I was proud of myself I was also disappointed. Worried that Eric would never view me as the strong, open minded, independent leader that this faction needed. Upset also with myself that something so foolish had set me back so far, that I threw myself into the mess in the first place. Eric never gave me the look of boredom or disappointment though, and I secretly wondered if he knew what I was thinking.

The next morning, after sleeping on the couch with Eric again, I showered, with him outside the door for anything. It felt good to wash myself of the stress and memories and filth that had accumulated in all ways possible on me. I got to wash my hair, even though the back of my head was still tender. When I was all dressed, which I did slowly mind you, Eric explained that I was in a high fever state, due to my brain pressing against my bones, being squeezed. It was bruised he told me, and it would be for the rest of my life because of how hard I was hit, and how many times it happened. He told me a few symptoms I would experience like vertigo and nausea, dizziness and sometimes had the risk of blacking out. Each word he told me made me feel useless, like a child who was forbidden from doing anything, how was I to be effective in leadership if I had so much wrong with me?


Eric held my hand as we walked to the mess hall, and I had no idea why. Part of me reasoned it was to make sure I didn't randomly collapse, but another said screw it and jumped with glee. Either way, when he squeezed my hand gently I squeezed back, to tell him I was there. We got a few stares when we ate together, which I expected but didn't appreciate. The transfers moved over to us and checked up on me, I was very grateful that they were alright from the experience, and was more than happy to let the quiet but smiling amity boy sit next to me. His name was Trey, I learned after exchanging a few words with him. He wanted to be a leader or ambassador. I told him that he had to work for it.


Eric let go of my hand once Tori was setting the leadership tattoos around my shoulder and upper arm. They were lines, thin and thick like bands wrapping around and curving to my body down to the top of my hand. I asked her why she didn't do my fingers, she told me lines on each of your finger save for your ring finger signified marriage. I blushed, because Eric's face was the image that associated with marriage and that was shameful of me. I let her finish my left arm and apply a cooling salve, numbing the sting of the fresh ink. Eric shot me a look and observed me up and down before taking my hand again. We left for his apartment to get me some rest, and for him to get some work done now that he wasn't fawning over me the whole time.

One more chapter after this one c: and maybe a bonus. I'm considering it. Tell me what you think though, I had some quarrels about writing it this way with Four and everything.