Uriah walks by her side as they get pushed through series of corridors. Guns point at their hips, causing the pair to be lenient.
Tris can't help but notice how a warm hand circles around her lower back as they walk. She relaxes, knowing that nothing would happen to her. His body radiates ridiculous amounts of heat, warming up her bare arms which were covered in goose bumps only minutes ago.
She steps over sleeping Candor when she needs to. Limbs sprawl out along the polished wooden floor. They almost look dead. But the way their chests rise and fall signify how alive they actually are.
Tris rubs her wrists together, wincing when the plastic around them digs into her skin. He did it too tight. He didn't even notice.
"This way," Max says, leading them into a bigger room. There seem to be nobody there. Nobody hovering around and nobody sleeping on the floor. But there is a circle of people in the middle of the room. Not many people. They are all crouching. One of them is the girl.
Tris tastes bile as she looks out of the window. It covers one of four walls. The size of it reminds her of Erudite. Too open.
There is a hint of orange on the horizon, behind all the buildings. It's almost morning.
"Get down," Eric whispers when Uriah gets pushed to his knees, joining the circle. Tris crouches down slowly, Eric's hand on her shoulder. The man behind her weeps silently, enraging Max. He taps his gun against his thigh, glaring at the ceiling.
The little girl is silent though. Her feet are still bare. Her head droops forward, trying to make her as small as possible.
"All right, folks," Eric starts cheerfully, "Nothin' to be nervous about. Just a little routine inspection. Then we can all go back to our business."
Her eyes follow his body. He walks around the circle, picking up a device she is familiar with. She saw those in Amity. They were testing faction members to see if any of them were Divergent. But they already know we are Divergent.
"Hello," he stands in front of the weeping man, visibly frowning. She has to twist her neck uncomfortably to see him. But she ignores the ache along her bones and watches. He lifts the device up to the man's face. Immediately, it lights up. Some lines run through the screen. And then the monitor beeps.
"Divergent: ten percent," the electronic female voice says. And then the monitor turns off.
Eric frowns slightly, not managing to glance in Tris' direction. Instead, his eyebrows raise and he mocks a pout, slipping his gun out of his pocket. Without warning, he shoots the man in the head, allowing his body to collapse on the floor. Tris gasps, whipping around again. She widens her eyes, finding herself unable to breathe.
"That's boring," Eric murmurs, his footsteps echoing along the walls.
"That is not part of the mission," Max raises his brows, folding his arms in front of him.
"So what?" Eric scoffs, walking past her. She squeezes her eyes shut, feeling the breeze of his passing. It wasn't a part of the mission. But it's just how things are. This is Eric. This is who I am in love with, "As far as I'm concerned, the rest of them are still outlaws."
"Let's just wrap this up quickly," Max says, "The others are gonna be awake soon."
Tris calms her heartbeat, getting used to the sound of silence. She would jolt if she heard another gunshot. The aftereffects of the previous one have left ringing in her ears. How many deaths would Jeanine be satisfied with? How many families wiped off the Earth because of her childish experiment?
"Hello, sweetie," Eric coos on her left. She turns to look. Her breath hitches when she sees him leaning forward, examining the little girl's face. She sniffs quietly, lifting her head.
"I shouldn't-"
Eric cuts her off by scanning her chubby face. It beeps once before the electronic voice comes on again, "Divergent: forty percent."
He pouts again, faking a smile, "I'm afraid it's not you either."
He wouldn't.
She watches as he straightens up, towering over the innocent, "The lady said I shouldn'ta…" she takes a swallow of air, taking her time, "The lady said I shouldn'ta come downstairs."
Eric narrows his eyes, looking into her soul. He treats her like an adult. He doesn't even consider taking it easy with her. Tris can see it in his eyes. It is one of the great things about him. But it is also one of the worst.
"Guess you should have listened," he nods, taking his gun out.
It takes only a second for Tris to rise up to her feet. She doesn't hesitate. But once she is up and fuelled on adrenaline and the centre of attention, her lungs deflate. Now what? She is going to launch at him? That would be a very mixed signal on her part. Unless he wants her to launch at him. Unless he did this on purpose. Maybe that's what playing along meant.
A rush of air escapes her mouth when they collide. Obviously, she can't grab him. She's restrained. Her body falls to the ground, overwhelmed with pain. His jacket is rock hard and she is only wearing a top. Why didn't she think about it before flying over to him? Bruises will definitely show up tomorrow.
Eric glares, getting on top of her without further consideration. For a moment she thinks that he will hit her. But his hands find her neck instead, squeezing the air out of her. She arches her back, trying to breathe. Trying to gasp. Nothing works.
They lock eyes. Hers are in a frenzy, darting around her peripheral vision. His are cold. Just cold. He glares down at her as he loosens his grip. Not all at once, but gradually. So that she doesn't make a show of breathing right now. He is supposed to be strangling her.
"Enough," Max says, coming closer to the pair, "We still have to test her."
Eric releases her throat immediately, getting up to his feet. Tris fakes a gasp, watching him walk away, scratching the back of his head. He kicks something in front of him. It looks to be a chair.
"Jeanine told us that we have to test everyone," Max speaks, more to himself than anybody in the room.
Tris feels her heart pick up speed again. Max is closer to her than anybody in the room. It makes her nervous. Why did Eric walk so far away? She wishes he would be standing beside her. Even if it means he has to fake a punch.
Max lifts his screen up, and Tris watches as it flickers to life. She sees all faction symbols. Abnegation, Amity, Dauntless, Candor and Erudite. Only three of them stay on as the others disappear. Abnegation, Dauntless and Erudite. Those are the results she got for her Aptitude test. Before she joined Dauntless.
Then the robotic voice fills the room: "Divergent: one hundred percent."
Tris furrows her eyebrows, watching Max's face through the screen, "I'll be damned."
"What?" Eric appears behind him, narrowing his eyes. Immediately, she feels safe.
"She's what we've been looking for," Max says. Eric furrows his eyebrows, fear developing in his eyes. For a second, he hesitates. And then he grabs the device off of Max.
"Bullshit," he roars, pointing it at her face again. But he doesn't watch the screen. He watches her.
"Divergent: one hundred percent," the voice repeats.
Eric widens his eyes, looking away when the device turns off. Everybody is silent because everybody is expecting Eric to start talking. But how can he? His job is to hunt Divergents. And now he has to escort his girlfriend to her death.
"Get her in a vehicle," Max orders, taking charge, "I'll alert Jeanine."
Tris sighs deeply when he walks away. She lets her eyes close for a moment. One hundred percent? What does that mean? What makes her so special?
She feels Eric lean in front of her. He takes her hands, pulling her up to her feet. Tris wobbles slightly, adjusting her position. There is no point being brave. Because she's not. She lets herself lean against Eric, but he holds her at an arm's length, eyeing the soldiers who are still in the room. His hot breathing rushes past her forearms. She hears him panting. And then he starts whispering so that only she can hear. Anybody else would think that he is out of breath.
"Fuck, I didn't know," his eyes dart around the room, narrowing at Max's fading figure, "I'll think of something."
"It's okay," Tris whispers back. But before she can say anything else, he nudges her forward, holding her arm tightly. Together they walk out of the room, forgetting of the events that occurred inside it. Some guards follow them, their guns at the ready.
She looks at Eric, waiting for a signal, or even some sort of command. But he doesn't say anything. He doesn't even look at her. He looks at the ground, thinking hard.
A figure moves in the distance. Tris narrows her eyes, unsure whether it was her imagination or not. But then somebody tackles Eric. And the soldiers behind her groan in agony, falling to the floor.
Dauntless surround them. Not the Dauntless traitors. But the good Dauntless. Her friends.
She widens her eyes when she sees the person who knocked Eric to the ground. The person who promised her safety and security and gave it to her.
Four.
Gah, I feel like the ending could have been tied up a bit more xD Nevermind. I was half asleep when I wrote this. College life is wearing me out.
Review and tell me what you thought :)