Disclaimer: I don't own Divergent.

Two days have passed. Eric sits on the edge of his mattress in the transfer dorm, his hands cradling his head, lost in a maze of his own thoughts. Various emotions swirl around inside him, apprehension and dread being two of them. But the strongest one of all is the sharp stab of self-loathing.

What the hell was he thinking, letting Jason destroy him like that? Because of his extended stay in the hospital, he ended up missing both the knife-throwing session and the game of Capture the Flag. And in the latter, Tobias' team won! He should've been there, too!

If not for the fact that much of his body still hurts, Eric would've given himself a smack on the forehead for his stupidity.

Vaguely, he remembers a character from one of Megan's silly romance novels. What was her name? Marianne Dashwood? The one who kept acting according to her emotions, not listening to reason. She fell for her handsome but no-good suitor, who later left her for a woman with money. Soon after the man's departure, her heart was broken in two and she was left vulnerable to a sudden and extremely grave illness.

How different was it, really, when Eric got sick himself? He let his emotions take over again when he tried to assist Jason in the arena. He was wounded because of that, and that led to his getting sick. If he hadn't let himself feel sorry for Jason, he wouldn't have missed so many milestones in Dauntless initiation. He wouldn't have unknowingly jeopardized his chances of securing a spot in Dauntless.

Eric wants to pick up the first thing he sees and hurl it against the wall, his anger at himself is that strong. One thing he's certain of, he'll never, ever be that stupid again. He's not gonna be nice to his opponents in the ring, not even after the final bell. He'll let nothing stand between himself and the leadership position he's after.

That was why, a day after he woke up from his drug-induced sleep, he left his hospital bed at dawn and stumbled down the hall to the training room. He didn't even wait to see if he'd been discharged, he just went straight to the punching bags and worked on them for hours, until the alarms finally began going off in the transfer dorm.

That day, Eric's name was next to Sean's on the piece of paper. Tobias was fighting Mia, and Amy was up against Jason. Sean thought he had that fight in the bag, Eric could tell from his expression. He couldn't have foreseen what was going to happen to him.

Less than two minutes later, Sean was lying flat on his back on the dirty floor, blood caking his purple eyelids and coating his mahogany nose. Mia and Tobias took way longer. They traded punches over and over but neither would go down, not even when both were trying to staunch the flow of red from their orifices.

At last Tobias took a deliberate step back and announced, with words garbled by blood, that he was conceding the match to Mia. He yelled something about how he had nothing left to prove, that he wasn't gonna risk putting Mia into a coma, or worse.

That wasn't even the most dramatic moment of the day. Once the last pair finished up, Amar revealed who would be fighting who during tomorrow's final round. The opponent Tobias will face? The undefeated Jason. As for Eric? He'll have to fight Mia.

Without even realizing it, Eric's clenched his fists to the point where his fingernails are biting his palms. He won't be able to brainstorm his way out of this one. He really will have to knock his girlfriend out.

Has Mia changed her tune about him not holding back? What if he KO's her and she gets pissed off at him?

The answer's gonna come faster than he expected. With no warning, Mia strides into the dorm and lies down on her bed in one quick motion. Eric thinks she's gonna sleep now, it's been a busy day for all the initiates.

But he just has to get this in before she shuts her eyes. "Hey," he calls. "Mia. Tomorrow morning. Me against you. May the best fighter win?"

Her head shoots up and suddenly she's eyeing him, but he can't decode her expression. He holds his breath.

"Uh… yeah," she finally replies. He thinks he sees her crack a smile. "May the best fighter win," she repeats, the grin on her face now fully visible.

Eric's grateful they're standing on the same ground. He and Mia stretch out on their beds to sleep, and the last of Eric's worries dissolves like mist in the air.

The training room already reeked of old leather and initiate sweat when I got there. Now the smell's so bad I'm dying for some fresh air, but I can't leave. My fist smacks into the punching bag again. Every time it does, it hurts my knuckles, which are split open from a week's worth of fights.

"So I guess you saw the paper with your name on it," Amar says from the doorway. "And realized you're gonna face off with Jason tomorrow. Else you'd be with your friend Eric, instead of here."

"I come here sometimes, too," I say defensively. I back away from the punching bag, shaking out my hands. I've got to stop clenching my fists so hard, or I'll lose all feeling in my fingertips.

Eric wished me good luck in my final fight, but then he quickly retired to his room. Said he was feeling a lot more tired than usual, which makes sense considering he gave it his all in the fight with Sean. Yet something told me there was more to it than that. I'm not a particularly intuitive person, but I sensed that my friend had undergone a great change, for reasons I couldn't explain.

Maybe he's feeling extra stressed because tomorrow, he'll be up against his own girlfriend? Then again, he said Mia ordered him to not hold back. And he won't put his rank at risk, not when he'd be doing it against her wishes.

I drag the back of my hand across my forehead, collecting many beads of sweat. Enough about Eric and Mia. I've got to stay focused on the upcoming fight with Jason. He's an absolute monster, and beating him will take more than a few well-aimed punches, or my usual persistence. It'll take skill I might not have, strength I'm not sure I've earned.

"'Kay, I get it." Amar laughs. He crosses his arms and leans against the door frame, his pose casual. "See, I spend plenty of time trying to figure out what your deal is. I wondered if I was pushing you too hard, so I let you have a night out with us. I let you tag along with my buddies while they played a round of Dare."

Yeah, I remember. It was generous of Amar to offer me some Dauntless status for no particular reason. But then that reason must have been that he felt bad for me.

Now Amar's making this known. He takes a step in my direction and, pretending to be discreet, whispers, "Wanna sneak out with us again? Tonight?"

I make a big show of thinking about it. "Um… I know you probably feel sorry for me, but no thanks. In case you don't remember, I have the most important fight of my life scheduled for tomorrow. And I'd better get in some more practice before I go to bed."

Amar rolls his eyes a little. "Whatever, man. I can't pity you that much if I let you go drinking with me more than once. But if you'd like, you can stay cooped up in the training room. Enjoy it." He waves at me happily before turning around and walking off.

Almost instantly, I begin regretting what I said. I was just telling myself what I should do, what a good kid ought to do. I should stay in instead of going out. I should get in more practice, and work hard, and then sleep, so I'm ready to fight first thing in the morning.

But that voice saying "I should" is a gratingly familiar one, one just like Marcus' voice telling me to behave, to keep myself isolated. And I have to remind myself that I came here so I'd stop listening to that voice.

So I chase Amar down, hollering, "Wait!"

My mentor turns.

I huff and puff for a minute, still winded from working on the punching bag, then I ask, "So what's the game your buddies are playing?"

We're playing another round of Dare, and I'm sure it'll be just as much fun as the first time. By the time they get to me, almost everyone is drunk, lurching with each footstep and laughing at every joke, no matter how juvenile it is. My mind's still sharp, taking in everything about the night, from the blue-black of the sky to the rich smell of the surrounding marsh. My legs are starting to get sore from running after the others, and still they haven't dared me to do anything.

We're kind of close to Dauntless headquarters now. The buildings sag where they stand, making me think of the dilapidation in the factionless sector.

"So who's left?" I recognize the voice of Lauren, initiation instructor to those born in Dauntless. Her bleary eyes skip over each face in the crowd, including mine.

"The Stiff," someone else says loudly, as if to remind Lauren I'm here.

"Oh, yeah, him," says Lauren. She lets out a light, airy laugh. Her eyes land on my face, then they narrow as she squints at me. "Isn't your name Thomas?"

I remember I'm using an alias. No one here knows the name Tobias. "Uh, yeah," I tell Lauren.

"Okay," says the same boy who mentioned me. He's the one who'll determine the next dare. The one who'll decide my fate. So far I've watched the others pull absolutely crazy stunts, from running naked down alleyways to sticking needles through their earlobes without numbing them first. If one of them asked me to concoct a dare, I wouldn't be able to think of one. Good thing I'm the last to go.

I feel a slight tremor in my chest. Nerves, I tell myself. I'm not that freaked out by these people.

"Stiffs are uptight," the Dauntless boy continues. He says it plainly, like it's a well-known fact. "So, to prove you're really Dauntless… I dare you to get a tattoo."

I can see the guy's ink, creeping over his wrists, arms, shoulders, and throat. The metal studs adorning his ears, lips, and eyebrows. Unlike his, my skin's blank, whole, healed. But that doesn't match who I am. I should carry as many physical scars as I do emotional ones. I should be scarred like the Dauntless, marked with the memories of the trials I've survived.

I lift one of my shoulders. "Fine," I say calmly, accepting the Dauntless boy's challenge.

We all start toward the train tracks. I find I'm anticipating mutilating my own skin with pleasure. Maybe I am shedding my Abnegation self faster than I thought.

Amar and Lauren aren't the only Dauntless I know in the train car. Sitting directly across from me is Zeke, the jokester who jumped first on Choosing Day. Nestled up against him is… his girlfriend? She has an ease with him that, in Abnegation at least, can only signal intimacy. Her hair is dark brown and hangs in corkscrew curls around her face, and her skin is just a couple shades lighter than mine.

I catch myself ogling them, and remember to look away, my face beet red. I may have dated a Dauntless for a short time, but I still feel like an impostor hanging around flirting Dauntless teens.

Man, I really am stiff.

"Yo," someone nearly shouts, making me jump. I find myself making eye contact with Zeke, who's grinning goofily. "You were on my Capture the Flag team, right?"

"I was," I tell him. My heart is beating hard, now that I know he remembers me. He was the star of that night, the one who led our team to a glorious victory. I have to pluck up the courage to say more. "You were the first jumper, right?"

Too late, I realize that might be a touchy subject for him. Zeke's moment to show off, ruined by a misstep and loss of balance. But he just laughs.

"Yeah, not my finest moment," he agrees.

"Not like anyone else stepped up," the girl at his side chimes in. She looks at me, her face friendly. "I'm Shauna, by the way. Is it true you hit the bulls-eye every time, in knife training?"

With some hesitation, I nod. I didn't know Amar would tell this many tales about me, or that they'd actually reach the ears of the Dauntless-born initiates. Does my instructor have that much faith in me?

"Wow," Shauna says, still staring at me. She sounds genuinely impressed, and that makes me sit up straighter. "Guess you were born Dauntless."

I just shrug, so I don't have to reveal my true feelings. Part of me appreciates Shauna's praise, but a larger part feels guilt. Do I really deserve to be spoken of so highly, when I never even received a Dauntless result on the aptitude test? I came here to escape the life I was actually meant for, a life in Abnegation. I'm fighting my hardest to get through initiation so I won't have to admit I'm a phony, an Abnegation kid born in Abnegation, who just happened to end up in Dauntless.

The three of us go on talking, and I'm told how initiation is going for Zeke and Shauna. Zeke's pretty proficient at hand-to-hand combat, but Shauna's technique needs polishing up. Still, at one point she was able to get Zeke right underneath the jaw. The bruise is easy to spot, and it's nasty.

I tell Shauna good work. She might still be trying to find her footing, but a job well done is a job well done.

Before long, the train is approaching the final stop. I ready myself to make the jump, knowing I'll get the hang of it soon. Zeke and Amar are right behind me, and they'll surely give me a push if needed.

I launch myself into the dark night, feeling like I'm at the head of a pack of wolves.

The low-hanging bulb emits a faint pop as it comes to life. The supply closet-sized space behind Tori's apartment is thrown into light, and now I can see a big leather chair and tattoo needles everywhere. The Dauntless around me grin with anticipation.

"Okay, if I get in trouble for this, I'll say you guys are vandals," Tori warns. It still seems like there's a fuzzy curtain over her eyes, but at least now she's actually in pants. We did wake her up from a deep slumber just so she could take part in this Dauntless tradition, I'm reminded.

Amar acknowledges her with a nod. "Understood," he says.

Tori smiles. "Let's get started." All of a sudden she turns her gaze on me. "Ever been in a tattoo parlor before?" It's an innocently worded question, not one meant to test me.

I shake my head.

Tori's cool about it. "Basic principles," she says, getting down to business. "The less cushioning under the skin, the more painful the tattoo. So for your first one, it's probably best to get it on, I don't know…"

"Your butt cheek," Zeke suggests, to uproarious laughter.

The corner of Tori's mouth lifts. "Wouldn't be the first time," she admits.

But I'm not going with Zeke's idea, funny as it is. "I got a design already," I tell Tori. With a flourish, I take out my finished painting, which I retrieved from my dorm earlier. It took forever to get done, but all the extra effort was worth it. The canvas is covered with an artistic rendering of Dauntless flames, an inferno of reds, oranges, and yellows.

"Here," I say, handing the canvas to Tori. "Painted it a couple days ago."

"Sweet," she comments. Her eyebrows go up. "Got a location in mind?"

Now that's one detail I didn't think too hard on. But then I remember something incredible I saw as a child, when Eric let me accompany him to the art museum. I saw this old, old painting that was completed in the twentieth century, by an artist named Frida Kahlo. Eric told me that, as a teenager, she got in a horrible accident that injured her spine and left her bedridden for a long time.

That clued me in as to what inspired her masterpiece, The Broken Column. In it, she stands alone in front of a desolate, fissured landscape. Her torso is nude except for the corset that's barely keeping her together. It appears that part of her chest has been torn away, revealing a cracked rod in place of her spine. But on closer observation, you'd see that the rod is actually a broken pillar, similar to the structures that hold up the ancient Greco-Roman ruins.

That's not all there is to see in the painting. Dozens of nails pierce the woman's skin, jutting out from her face, arms, shoulders, and chest. Tears drip from her eyes, a testament to her pain. Despite this, she stares straight ahead, her body language stoic, her posture never faltering. Showing no outward signs of weakness. Just like a member of Dauntless would.

It's kind of funny, but I really did believe Frida Kahlo was a Dauntless woman, just from that painting alone. I imagined she'd gotten the broken column tattooed on her chest, to serve as a reminder of the hurdles she'd overcome.

This is what my first tattoo will be - my own Broken Column. Tangible evidence that I went through pain and came out stronger.

I point to my rib cage while looking at Tori. "Right there."

She's frowning now. "You sure? That's maybe the most painful place possible."

"Good," I say simply, then I position myself in the leather chair. The Dauntless around me let out a chorus of cheers. They weren't expecting the Abnegation kid to be the most daring.

Tori sits on the stool next to me and pulls on a pair of rubber gloves. She touches rubbing alcohol to the scarred skin of my back. I see her frown deepen when she notices the old wounds, but she doesn't ask any questions. She just gets ready to turn the needle on.

A low buzzing fills the entire room. I wince when the needle makes contact with my ribs, but somehow the pain's not as bad as I thought it'd be.

Believe it or not, I actually welcome it.

AN: Up next is the final round of fights. Eric versus Mia, Tobias versus Jason, Sean versus Amy. Who will come out on top? Stay tuned!

And yes, Guest, Emmett Carlisle's name IS a Twilight reference. The brother's name is Edward, so that gave me some ideas. Lol.