A/N: Hey peoples, I own nothing except new characters and events. I make no money from writing and all rights go to the rightful owners.

"There was an even number of you but one of you dropped out earlier, this means one of you won't be fighting today." Four steps away from the chalk board, our names are lined up with someone else's. I notice that Four looks over Tris, his eyes holding hers.

I look for my name but I catch Tris's first, the slot next to her name is blank. A reprieve. Then I find Christina's name, she's fighting Molly. Oh fuck. "Oh no, this isn't good" Chrissy says with a hint of fear. "Look. I'm up against the Tank." This wasn't going to end well, she was going to get hurt. I was about to witness my best friend get beat up by my brothers lackey.

"The Tank?" Tris asks confused.

"Yeah, Peter's slightly more feminine-looking minion," She sneers and motions over to my brother, Peter, and Drew. Molly is tall like Christina, but that's where the similarities end. She has broad shoulders, bronze skin, and a bulbous nose marked with tiny black dots. "Those three" Christina starts, she points to each of them with an accusing fingering, "have been inseparable since they crawled out of the womb, practically. I hate them." My heart drops, I know she hates them. She's told me. She's told them. She's told my mother for god's sake. I look away from them and towards the arena, Will and Al stand inside it. They're across from each other, their fists up guarding their faces. They shuffle around each other, neither of them making a move to go at each other yet.

Al is half a foot taller than Will and twice as broad. Even his facial features are big; big nose, big lips, and big dark brown eyes. Unless Will was a master at fighting I didn't see him winning. "What's wrong with them?" Tris says, I turn to see her motioning to my brother and his lackeys.

"Peter is pure evil. When we were kids he would pick fights with people from other factions and then, when an adult came to break it up, he'd cry and make up some story about how the other kid started it. And of course, they believed him, because we were Candor and we couldn't lie. Ha-ha." Christina wrinkles her nose and adds, "Drew is just his sidekick. I doubt he has an independent thought in his brain. And Molly…she's the kind of person who fries ants with a magnifying glass just to watch them flail around."

Al slugs Will, I watch as he stumbles and shakes his head with wide eyes. Al was powerful but slow. Across the room, Eric smirks at Al, and turns one of the rings in his eyebrow. Will stumbles again with one hand pressed to his face and blocks Al's next punch with his free hand. Judging by his grimace, blocking the punch is as painful as his blow would have been. At least he didn't get hit in the face again, if he had he might not have been able to continue fighting.

Peter, Drew, and Molly look at Chrissy and Tris, judging them. They probably know they're being talked about, years of dealing with it has made them experts. "I think they know we're talking about them," Tris says with pursed lips.

"So? They already know I hate them." I roll my eyes, it's true.

"They do? How?" Christina paints on her fake smile and waves at them, they scowl at her. Will hooks a foot around one of Al's legs and yanks back, knocking Al to the ground. It takes Al too long to scramble to his feet, he wasn't going to make it if he let himself be that vulnerable.

"Because I've told them," she says, through the gritted teeth of her smile, I don't know why she never got her crooked bottom teeth fixed. I didn't mind it, it gave her character, made her imperfect. "We try to be pretty honest about our feelings in Candor. Plenty of people have told me that they don't like me. And plenty of people haven't. Who cares?"

"We just…weren't supposed to hurt people," Tris says sheepishly, I smirk and almost laugh.

"I like to think I'm helping them by hating them," Chrissy retorts with a shrug. "I'm reminding them that they aren't God's gift to humankind." Tris laughs but I've stayed quite for too long.

"Okay, ya know what? Peter isn't pure evil, he only shows that side. He doesn't show weakness, why would he? You don't know what happened behind closed doors, don't try to categorize him as a villain. Molly and Drew sure, they're horrible their parents aren't great but they knew they loved them. Leave Peter alone, he isn't that bad. He doesn't think he's god's gift to humankind, he doesn't actually have that high of self-esteem you shit bags." I snarl.

Chrissy looks stunned but mumbled out an apology, her cheeks a burning ember but Tris looked more confused than apologetic. "Why are you defensive of him?" she questioned.

"Because he's my brother, why else? I mean, we both came from candor and have the same last name there are only so many coincidences in this world Tris." I walked to him, he welcomed me with a hug.

"You okay? Your face only gets that red when you're mad." He says, Drew looks me over making me uncomfortable.

"Just tired, ready to fight." I grumble, he smiles.

"I know there's more to it but if I push you'll hurt me so I'll stop." He knew me better than anyone, better than Chrissy. Could I tell him I'm divergent? I shook the thought from my head and focused on the arena.

Will and Al circle each other, less tense and more hesitant to go at him. Will flicks his sweaty hair from his face as they glance at Four as if they're waiting for him to call the fight off but he stands with his arms folded, expressionless. Eric stands a few feet to Fours right, he watches as they circle each other for several minutes. I yawn and lay my head on Peters arm, Eric checks his watch and yells "Do you think this is a leisure activity? Should we break for nap-time? Fight each other!"

"But…" Al drops his hands to his sides and stands straights, Will does too, "Is it scored or something? When does the fight end?"

"It ends when one of you is unable to continue," Eric narrows his eyes.

"According to Dauntless rules," Four says, "one of you could also concede."

Eric turns and glares at Four, a bitter smirk tugging at his lips. He sucks his teeth and shakes his head, "According to the old rules," he says. "In the new rules, no one concedes."

"A brave man acknowledges the strength of others," Four replies.

"A brave man never surrenders." Four and Eric glare at each other for minutes.

I see now that there is two very different sides of dauntless, sides that could work together. There is the honorable kind and the ruthless kind. Eric is ruthless. Four is honorable. Or was he?

Al huffs as he wipes the sweat that dots his paling face "This is ridiculous," he says shaking his head. "What's the point of beating him up? We're in the same faction!"

"Oh, you think it's going to be that easy?" Will asks, grinning. "Go on. Try to hit me, slowpoke." Will puts his hands up again, he smirks and there's a glint of determination that wasn't there before. He's the type of dauntless that loves a challenge, were there any dauntless that didn't?

Will has to be fast, he has to be good and land hits that do a lot of damage to Al or he wouldn't be walking out of that arena. Al swings but Will is too fast, he dodges and ducks under his arm. Al spins and swings again, he didn't have good tactic. He swung crazily, without purpose.

Al lurches forward, stumbles over himself almost. "Hey, remember those grizzly bears from our biology books?" Drew snorted. I glared at him, Al may fight like one but out of the ring he was just a giant teddy bear. Al charges at Will, grabbing his arm so he can't dodge him. Al slugs him hard in the jaw, his pale green eyes become lifeless and roll back into his head. Al gasps as he lets go of him, he's dead weight now and crumples to the floor like a ragdoll. His body makes a thump when it hits the arena floor, his limbs are at odd angles. His chest moves up and down unsteadily, he's still alive. Al's eyes widen and his mouth turns down into a shocked frown. He crouches down next to our unconscious friend, tapping his cheek with one hand as if he's unsure if he's actually unconscious or if he's just playing a game. Knowing Al he hopes that it is a game. The room falls silent as we wait for Will to respond, Drew smiles and I see his hand move to his pants. It has a bulge. I move as far into Peter as I can, maybe he thinks I'm scared of what happened to Will but really I'm scared of his friend. Peter has his arm around me, we wait for Will to respond but after a few minutes it doesn't seem like he ever will. One arm is bent beneath him and his legs are at weird but possible angles, they aren't broken.

Al looks like he's about to puke, he stands with shaky legs and is about to walk away when Will blinks and tries to talk. "Get him up," Eric growls, he stares with greedy eyes a t Will's fallen body, like the sight is a meal and he hasn't eaten in weeks. The curl of his lip is animalistic, a sight I just saw on Drew.

"Next up—Alessa and Drew!" shouts Eric. Al pulls Will's arm across his shoulders and drags him out of the arena.

"Ready to go down?" I snarl, he looks me over with hungry eyes. It shakes me to my core, I watch as he walks to the arena. I look to Peter who looks ready to fight him for me, "Hey, I can take him. Remember back in candor? Don't try to make him lose or not hurt me or something." He huffs.

"Fine, kick his ass."

"As if I'd do anything else."

Tris' p.o.v

Across the room, Four supports Will from the waist and leads him out. Al stands for a moment by the door, watching them go. Four leaving makes me nervous. Leaving us with Eric is like hiring a babysitter who spends his time sharpening knives.

Alessa was only inches taller than me and just as pale, she reminded me of a doll I had when I was younger. One of the only toys I had, abnegation taught selflessness from the time you could see and never ended. Material possessions were self-indulgent. Her face, her arms, and her stomach are sprayed with light brown freckles. From far away you could barely tell they were there but once you got closer they stood out against her skin. She had short dark hair with deep waves that was almost to her shoulders, it shined and gleamed like her brothers. She had dark green eyes with paler green flecks, her features were angelic. She was pretty. I was not.

I feel bad for upsetting Alessa, I didn't know Peter was her brother. If she was so defensive that must mean he wasn't so horrible, I saw the way he smiled at her and how he looked more comfortable, more natural around her. If someone had insulted Caleb the way Christina insulted Peter I don't think I would have handled it as well as she did but then again maybe she had to deal with it more often, did that make it worse?

She stands tall as she walks up the small stairs to the arena, she ducks her head and steps in. Drew looks at her with the same eyes Eric looked at Will's fallen body, I feel sorry for her. Being around both Drew and Molly often must be horrible, a 24/7 punishment.

She bounced on the balls of her feet, a fire erupted in her eyes. I wanted that fire, did I have that fire? Was it because she hated him? Her form was perfect, "Begin!" Eric yelled, Christina grabbed my hand. She looked concerned, I should be too but I'm not, I feel sure of her. She can take him, if she grew up with him then surely she knew his weaknesses.

He lurched forward and she swung her arm hitting him in the throat, she seemed to hang onto him before throwing him to the ground. My eyes widened, did she know how to fight? He grabbed her and pulled her with him, she took advantage of it. She rammed her knee into his groin, a very shrill scream erupted from his oddly formed lips. She grinned and punched him, landing it along his jawline. He went out but she punched him again, a loud crunching noise echoed through the room. Blood spurted from his noise and landed on her chest and stomach.

She stood and walked out of the arena to her brother who was waiting with a proud smile, he said something to her but I couldn't tell what it was.

"Very good! Take him away." Eric yelled, he had the same look in his eyes. It was safe to say he was the instructor that scared me. "Next up—Christina and Molly!"

Christina tucks her hair behind her ears. It is chin-length, black, and pinned back with silver clips. She cracks another knuckle. She looks nervous, and no wonder—who wouldn't be nervous after watching Will collapse like a rag doll and blood spurt from Drew to paint our friend. If conflict in Dauntless ends with only one person standing, I am unsure of what this part of initiation will do to me. Will I be Al, standing over a man's body, knowing I'm the one who put him on the ground, or will I be Will, lying in a helpless heap?

And is it selfish of me to crave victory, or is it brave? I wipe my sweaty palms on my pants. I snap to attention when Christina kicks Molly in the side. Molly gasps and grits her teeth like she's about to growl through them. A lock of stringy black hair falls across her face, but she doesn't brush it away. All stands next to me, but I'm too focused on the new fight to look at him, or congratulate him on winning, assuming that's what he wants. I am not sure. Molly smirks at Christina, and without warning, dives, hands outstretched, at Christina's midsection. She hits her hard, knocking her down, and pins her to the ground. Christina thrashes, but Molly is heavy and doesn't budge. She punches, and Christina moves her head out of the way, but Molly just punches again, and again, until her fist hits Christina's jaw, her nose, her mouth.

Without thinking, I grab Al's arm and squeeze it as tightly as I can. I just need something to hold on to. Blood runs down the side of Christina's face and splatters on the ground next to her cheek. This is the first time I have ever prayed for someone to fall unconscious. But she doesn't. Christina screams and drags one of her arms free. She punches Molly in the ear, knocking her off-balance, and wriggles free. She comes to her knees, holding her face with one hand. The blood streaming from her nose is thick and dark and covers her fingers in seconds. She screams again and crawls away from Molly. I can tell by the heaving of her shoulders that she's sobbing, but I can barely hear her over the throbbing in my ears.

Please go unconscious.

Molly kicks Christina's side, sending her sprawling on her back. All frees his hand and pulls me tight to his side. I clench my teeth to keep from crying out. I ha d no sympathy for All the first night, but I am not cruel yet; the sight of Christina clutching her rib cage makes me want to stand between her and Molly. "Stop!" wails Christina as Molly pulls her foot back to kick again. She holds out a hand. "Stop! I'm…" She coughs. "I'm done." Molly smiles, and I sigh with relief. Al sighs too, his rib cage lifting and falling against my shoulder. Eric walks toward the center of the arena, his movements slow, and stands over Christina with his arms folded.

Alessa watches with wide eyes, part of me wishes she would come over here. Part of me is scared of her.

He says quietly, "I'm sorry, what did you say? You're done?" Christina pushes herself to her knees. When she takes her hand from the ground, it leaves a red handprint behind. She pinches her nose to stop the bleeding and nods.

"Get up," he says. If he had yelled, I might not have felt like everything inside my stomach was about to come out of it. If he had yelled, I would have known that the yelling was the worst he planned to do. But his voice is quiet and his words precise. He grabs Christina's arm, yanks her to her feet, and drags her out the door. "Follow me," he says to the rest of us. And we do.

I feel the roar of the river in my chest. We stand near the railing. The Pit is almost empty; it is the middle of the afternoon, though it feels like it's been night for days. If there were people around, I doubt any of them would help Christina. We are with Eric, for one thing, and for another, the Dauntless have different rules—rules that brutality does not violate. Eric shoves Christina against the railing. "Climb over it," he says.

"What?" She says it like she expects him to relent, but her wide eyes and ashen face suggest otherwise. Eric will not back down.

"Climb over the railing," says Eric again, pronouncing each word slowly. "If you can hang over the chasm for five minutes, I will forget your cowardice. If you can't, I will not allow you to continue initiation." The railing is narrow and made of metal. I glance over as Peter grabs Alessa, keeping her in place as she fights against his hold with the same fire in her eyes.

The spray from the river coats it, making it slippery and cold. Even if Christina is brave enough to hang from the railing for five minutes, she may not be able to hold on. Either she decides to be factionless, or she risks death. When I close my eyes, I imagine her falling onto the jagged rocks below and shudder. "Fine," she says, her voice shaking. She is tall enough to swing her leg over the railing. Her foot shakes. She puts her toe on the ledge as she lifts her other leg over. Facing us, she wipes her hands on her pants and holds on to the railing so hard her knuckles turn white. Then she takes one foot off the ledge. And the other. I see her face between the bars of the barrier, determined, her lips pressed together. Next to me, Al sets his watch. For the first minute and a half, Christina is fine. Her hands stay firm around the railing and her arms don't shake. I st art to think she might make it and show Eric how foolish he was to doubt her. Bu t then the river hits the wall, and white water sprays against Christina's back.

Her face strikes the barrier, and she cries out. Her hands slip so she's just holding on by her fingertips. She tries to get a better grip, but now her hands are wet.

If I help her, Eric would make my fate the same as hers. Will I let her fall to her death, or will I resign myself to being factionless? What's worse: to be idle while someone dies, or to be exiled and empty-handed? My parents would have no problem answering that question. But I am not my parents. As far as I know, Christina hasn't cried since we got here, but now her face crumples and she lets out a sob that is louder than the river. Another wave hits the wall and the spray coats her body. One of the droplets hits my cheek. Her hands slip again, and this time, one of them falls from the railing, so she's hanging by four fingertips. "Come on, Christina," says Al, his low voice surprisingly loud. She looks at him. He claps. "Come on, grab it again. You can do it. Grab it." Would I even be strong enough to hold on to her? Would it be worth my effort to try to help her if I know I'm too weak to do any good? I know what those questions are: excuses. Human reason can excuse any evil; that is why it's so important that we don't rely on it. My father's words. Christina swings her arm, fumbling for the railing. No one else cheers her on, but Al brings his big hands together and shouts, his eyes holding hers. I wish I could; I wish I could move, but I just stare at her and wonder how long I have been this disgustingly selfish. I stare at Al's watch.

Four minutes have passed. He elbows me hard in the shoulder. "Come on," I say. My voice is a whisper. I clear my throat. "One minute left," I say, louder this time. Christina's other hand finds the railing again. Her arms shake so hard I wonder if the earth is quaking beneath me, jiggling my vision, and I just didn't notice. "Come on, Christina," Al and I say, and as our voices join, I believe I might be strong enough to help her. I will help her. If she slips again, I will. Another wave of water splashes again st Christina's back, and she shrieks as both her hands slip off the railing.

Alessa's p.o.v

I push from my brothers' arms as Tris screams, I go to her side. She's shaking, I show her that Chrissy doesn't fall. She has hold of the barrier but slips down until we see nothing but her fingers, Tris squeezes my arm. Does she realize she's digging her nails into me?

"Five minutes are up," Al says, venom coating his words as he spits them at Eric. I snarl, he looks at us with interest. Maybe he's wondering what to make of us, two victors, someone who backed out, and a Stiff who got a reprieve. Eric looks down at his own watch.

He takes his time, inspecting the glass attached to the leather. I want to scream, I want to through him over the railing. But nothing comes out, instead I see the girls' sister, I didn't even stay to find out her name. I saw her sister lying dead, her body plastered on the ground, the flashing imagine was no longer the blonde girl it was Chrissy.

"Fine," Eric says. "You can come up, Christina."

Al and I rush forward but Tris stays plastered "No," Eric says. "She has to do it on her own."

"No, she doesn't," Al growls. "She did what you said. She's not a coward. She did what you said." Eric lets us pass without a response, Al reaches over the railing, and he's so tall that he can reach Christina's wrist. She grabs his forearm. Al pulls her up, his face red with frustration, and I reach down to help. I'm not tall enough to do much good, Tris rushes forward but can't do much either. Once she's high enough we reach down and grip her under the shoulders then pull her up, it's easier now.

She drops to the ground and I fall with her, cradling her. Her face is blood smeared but now runs down her face and soaking hair and clothes. Tris kneels next to us, her eyes lift to her, then shift to Al's. Her head slumps against my shoulder as we all exhale the breath we didn't know we were holding in.