Hey everyone! Sorry It took so long to update. I am currently doing some soul searching in the mountains. This chapter is more of a filler, but in any good story they are necessary. Favorite, follow, and review!

Disclaimer: I do not own Divergent or the characters.

Tris

I can't breathe. I can't breathe. I'm going to die. Die. Oh, god, Peter is dead. I look down at my hands and feel my head begin to swim. Red. So much red. Somewhere in the background I can hear Four ordering everyone to make their way to the cafeteria, but I can't do it. So I don't. You're weak, Tris. You can't even follow orders. I slump back against Uriah and feel his arms tighten around me in response, anticipating my fall.

Christina pulls my blonde hair back from my shoulders and face and draws it up into a pony tail. I stare blankly at the cadaver on the ground. I'm incapable of averting my gaze. The blood provides a stark contrast to the bland concrete floor, a flash of color in an otherwise desolate room. His clouded eyes stare sightlessly at the ceiling, devoid of any of the malice that had been ever present in life. His arms each lay at awkward angles, almost as if he tried to catch himself and forgot how mid-fall. I commit each detail to memory, unwilling to forget the reality of the situation. Someone is after me. Someone did this to get to me.

My attention flickers briefly to Christina who is whispering something to me, but I just can't seem to understand. Her hands are on my shoulders and I can vaguely feel her surprisingly perfect nails creating crescent shaped indentions even through Four's jacket. Four.

I scan the room frantically, subconsciously drawing his blood soaked jacket tighter around my shaking form. I find him, finally, standing in a tight circle with Max, Zeke, and Ms. Matthews. His spine is rigid, the muscles beneath his shirt taunt, like a panther waiting to pounce. He may be a student leader, but there is no longer any doubt in my mind. Four is a trained killer, and he is damned good at it. My focus blurs and I can feel the blood thundering in my ears, impossibly loud. I try to focus and hear what the group is saying. Four spins around and raises his weapon, fully prepared to neutralize whatever threat he perceives. Seeing only us he relaxes infinitesimally. He peers at me from across the room, cataloging the entire scene laid before him. Exasperated and exhausted I push my golden hair back and run it through my fingers absently.

The infirmary team gathers around the cadaver and lifts it almost carelessly onto a stretcher. I observe, immobilized, and they throw a sheet over it as an afterthought. The blood once again pounds in my head and my vision blurs. I go to stand and feel myself swaying. Why is the room spinning? I reach out to grab at anything to steady myself and feel the adrenaline begin to take over when I find nothing but empty space. A small whimper escapes before I can help it. Uriah, Christina, and Will are speaking in hushed tones behind me, no doubt attempting to discuss the events of the night without upsetting me and paying me no mind. I lift my foot to take a step and the earth seems to tilt on its axis. I squeeze my eyes shut tightly and brace myself for the impact of the concrete. The last thing I hear is Four's voice in my ear. Be brave, Tris. I sink into the darkness. I welcome it.

Four

I worry at the inside of my cheek and scan the room periodically, taking note of who is hovering outside and who remains. The urge to make my way over to my initiates and question them is almost suffocating, but I somehow retain enough self-control to refrain. Zeke lays a hand on my shoulder, snapping me out of my reverie and back into the present. Ms. Matthews has arrived. I pretend to be fascinated by the scene behind me just long enough to roll my eyes. Just what we need, a nose inserting herself into a situation that she can't even begin to control or help with. I zone out once more, unwilling to sit and listen to her pompous ranting. I run my hand through my hair, lowering the pistol momentarily until I feel the hair on the back of my neck stand up.

My skin crawls and a shiver works its way up my spine. Someone is watching. I spin around and raise my weapon, my training kicking in and zeroing in on the source of the gaze. Tris. I lower the gun and study her intently. Her skin is almost a sickly pallor, her blue-grey eyes are bloodshot, and even from here I can see her trembling. I raise a brow as she draws my jacket around herself. Those stains are never going to come out. I huff in indignation. That was my favorite jacket. I reinsert myself into the conversation among the leaders in time for Max to address Zeke and I.

"Then it's settled. Four, Zeke, you will be guarding the Prior girl until further notice. Four, I trust you can adequately secure your own belongings. You will be issued another weapon. You are both to be armed at all times, no exceptions. Any threats made towards the Prior girl are to be neutralized efficiently and quietly. Her father could easily shut down this institution with a single phone call and I have no doubts that should she be harmed he will. I will be informing them of the situation. As of now, classes and training will continue as normal. Your classes will be moved to separate days. Zeke, yours will be Monday, Wednesday, and Friday. On those days Four will guard her. Four, your classes will be on Tuesdays and Thursdays. You will also continue instructing. Zeke will guard the girl then. I don't care how you split your weekends. Hallway patrols are going to be put into effect overnight from midnight until 5. You will be relieved then and expected to be back on duty promptly at 5. Am I understood?"

We both nod and I sigh. It's Friday. I tuck my sidearm against my back and take a deep breath. Here goes nothing. I clear my mind and focus my attention solely on my charge to find her standing and watching me. I didn't think it was possible for her to look any worse. I was wrong. Her eyes are glazed over and she is now as white as a ghost. Her friends are talking behind her, and despite the events of the night they are completely ignoring her. Oh no. I cross the room in four strides just as her knees buckle. She feels fragile in my arms, as though I could crush her just by shifting her wrong. I lean down and whisper to her quickly, almost desperately. "Be brave, Tris."

With that she goes completely limp. I gather her up to my chest and draw my jacket tighter around her, grimacing at the soaked leather. As if noticing me for the first time, Christina turns to me. "What are you doing with her?!" Her voice is high pitched, tight.

I roll my shoulders, agitation causing me to subconsciously grip the unconscious woman in my arms even tighter. "I am taking care of her. While you guys were busy gossiping about everything, she fainted. Do you have any idea how stupid it was to let her stand up? She could have seriously injured herself if she fell."

With that I walk away, taking Tris with me. I habitually move towards the infirmary, but freeze at the end of the hall. I glance around hesitantly and then move towards the dorms. No way in hell am I letting her out of my sight tonight. I will not carry the weight of another death on my shoulders. I will protect her. I shift her weight into one of my arms and balance her precariously and unlock the door to my apartment and with one last look around to check for any potential danger, shut it and deadbolt it behind me.

Unknown

NO! WHERE IS SHE?! I make my way over to Christina, Uriah, and Will. I keep my eyes downcast, a characteristic of Abnegation that has proven quite useful in remaining anonymous. I soften my voice, turning it from lethal and hard to timid and concerned. "I can't believe someone would do this… Is Tris alright?"

Uriah turns to me and raises an eyebrow. "The Stiff does have a voice, eh? She's shaken up. Four took her to the infirmary." He chuckles and rejoins the conversation taking place around us.

Of course he took her. He always takes her from me. Did he not learn his lesson? Was I somehow unclear?! The adrenaline is making me almost dizzy, or maybe that's the exhaustion. I simmer quietly, careful to control my reaction outwardly as I formulate my next move. First thing is first, I need to see my Beatrice.

I rush silently down the hallways and fling the door to the infirmary wide open. Rage instantly overwhelms me. All of the beds are empty. Where is my Beatrice?! WHERE DID HE TAKE HER?! She is nowhere to be found. Alright, it's okay. If this is how pretty boy wants to play, then let the games begin.