Even though we haven't been in Dauntless for long, at least compared to our previous life in our old factions, most of us seem to have adjusted to the new schedule of rising with the sun. Or at least, it seems that most people's bodies have adjusted, even if their brain hasn't. When the alarm goes off, half of the room is moving with a glazed look in their eyes, wincing with certain movements and whether that is from the training or the blows from the fights is anyone's guess. The other half are moving with efficiency and are dressed and headed out the door in a matter of minutes. Peter and Edward are ready first, heading towards the door but Peter is the only one to walk out. Edward instead waits at the doorway for Myra to finish getting ready. Molly and Drew are fumbling at the far side of the room. Christina is helping Tris, and it seems like Tris might not be able to get ready alone at all.

A final tug at my shoelaces ensure that they are tightly laced and unlikely to untie in the brisk movement of the daily activities we face. As I stand, there is a tightness in nearly every joint in my body, seemingly just now waking up. A quick stretch, arms above head and leaning to each side, and the tightness lessens enough for me to head out the door, a quick nod to Edward as I pass which he returns. Hands quickly find my pockets as I wander to the dining hall. There is still plenty of time to grab some breakfast before we head out, and so as I enter I take a seat at an empty table, ignoring the bustle of some of the faction's other early risers as well as Peter, the only other initiate in the room, who is watching from across the room. After perusing the various fruits and pastries laid out, my stomach rolls at the thought of potentially running with bread in my stomach. I settle for a banana, and begin to peel as the others start to trickle in and find places to quickly eat. Edward and Myra approach slowly, hands clasped together and it is clear that Myra is only barely awake.

"May we sit here?" Edward asks, gesturing to some seats across the table. I give a shrug and a noncommittal sound and they take seats. It's too early for coherent sentences and actual conversation. The two seem to agree as Myra leans her head against Edwards shoulder and takes occasional bites from a muffin, eyes closed and breathing slow. Edward is also keen to keep the silence, grabbing some fruit and eating while keeping Myra's hand in his. After finishing the banana, I give Edward another nod as I stand and head out to the Pit, Myra not even opening her eyes. I get a fair way down the hallway, thoughts absent for once in my life, when footsteps begin to approach from behind. And while I am aware that this compound is full of people, while I know that the threats are limited here, and likely not so blatant as audible footsteps, I can't stop the tension from pulling my muscles taught and the way that I shift my weight to sprint at a moments notice. I chance a glance over my shoulder, just to be certain.

Peter is walking up with a smirk, a swagger in his walk that is undeserving considering none of us have done anything worth pride since the start of initiation. And yet here he is like he is already a leader of the faction. For a moment there is almost a shade of Eric and I have to hold in a snort at the realization that Peter is likely emulating the leader, and yet it is so clearly empty of the danger that Eric holds like a trophy. I let the tension release, though my hands are still cold and clammy when Peter catches up with me.

"You alright there Kat? You look like you've seen a ghost," he laughs, and there is a part of me that wants to rib along, just take the joke. And yet another part of me simply wants to run. But I can't afford that here. I can't afford that now.

"Ghosts aren't real. Your terrible social skills are, however, and the realization that the first conversion I am graced with since waking is with you is a rather chilling thing."

Peter's face contorts through several emotions for a moment, as if trying to process the interaction, while also trying to gather my intent. To put him at ease, I offer a smirk to mirror his initial one, and he seems to relax minutely and gives a tight chuckle. And there is an irony to him being unable to accept the same level of derisive humor and teasing that he inflicts upon everyone else. Granted, upon seeing his interaction with Molly and Drew, I also must question whether he has ever had anyone challenge him before. I can't tell if that is good, to not be challenged and to be ensured support and protection, or whether it is sad, for him to reach this point and just now realize that the world won't simply bend to him and I wonder whether he will be able to cope with that.

"Harsh," he cuts through my thoughts, "and coming from you, Miss Icey Detachment, makes it sting even more."

And even I am surprised when the laughter rips from my chest, head tilting back to release the tension that builds.

"'Miss Icey Detachment'?" Turning to face him, the amusement is clear and open on his face. His posture has relaxed and opened, his shoulders angled slightly more towards me and for a split second, his openness and interest start a cold tightening of my chest and I have to take a moment to look away, just to pull myself together. Not everyone is Father. Openness and interest are not a threat. At least, not always.

"I mean, you aren't exactly the most friendly person."

"Oh, because everyone else is just such a wonderful ray of sunshine. I apologize," I say with a mock bow mid stride, "for not being as loving and warm as you would like."

Peter snorts, eyes rolling and head shaking slightly.

We reach the Pit and continue, heading for the steps and up to the building and through to the train platform. At the bottom of the steps, Peter stops and turns to me, a glint in his eyes that I already dislike.

"Race you to the top?"

A raised brow is all I offer for a moment.

"What does the winner get?"

He shrugs, smirk still firmly plastered on his face.

"Bragging rights," He says as he turns and begins sprinting up the steps. I should have known he would pull something like this, and I have to skip steps as I race after him, catching up near the middle. As we get closer to the top, I manage to get a couple steps ahead, but Peter grabs at my hair, yanking it slightly and throwing off my balance. Luckily I manage to throw my weight forward enough to get to the top before falling. I roll to the side, angling myself right in front of Peter's feet and he trips over me, falling and rolling onto his shoulder. There is a tense and stunned silence before we find ourselves laughing, both of us having rolled onto our back and laying on the roof.

"Are you children?" The voice startles us, and both of us sit up and glance over to see Four, watching us with an unamused expression near the edge. Peter doesn't say anything, only looking away while the tips of his ears grow red. But the warmth in my face and chest aren't stemming from the same sense of embarrassment. Instead, I find myself angry once again. But I can't afford to lose control right now, and not in front of Peter because I am doubtful that Four will take kindly to being confronted in front of another initiate. Instead I take some breaths as I stand and extend a hand wordlessly to Peter. He grabs it and I help him get up, both of us dusting ourselves off, the concrete dust very obvious on the black of our clothes. Finally turning to Four, his expression unchanged, I simply offer a shrug.

Four's jaw clenches before he turns around and stares at the tracks, waiting for the train. Peter glances at me, and I offer a small smile. He snorts and I can see Four's shoulders stiffen an impossible bit more. I knock Peter's shoulder with mine and give another grin when he stumbles a bit, not expecting the contact. Before he has a chance to retaliate, the door to the compound opens and some of the others come out. Seeing Drew and Molly come out, I wander away from Peter, not really wanting to engage with the other two. I approach the edge of the roof, but stay far enough from the edge to avoid getting scolded by Four, who is watching me out of the corner of his eye. I refuse to look over to confirm, but I can feel his gaze, and I can feel the tension as he waits for the chance to fuss.

After a moment of peaceful isolation, or as close as one can get to that while surrounded by dozens of colleagues, my meditative calm is disrupted by Four. And while I should have anticipated some sort of engagement, I still find myself having to close my eyes and forcibly slow my breaths to keep from losing my temper.

"I thought I told you to be careful."

"You're going to have to be a bit more specific, Four. About the ledge?" I ask, unable to keep the sarcasm out of my voice, "I am more than far enough away. Believe me, I took your peace of mind into consideration."

"No," his voice sounds more than a little exhausted, "I am referring to your little game with Peter. There are certain people you should keep at a good length. You can't trust a person with ambitions beyond their reach."

A laugh nearly rips from my chest, instead catching in my throat and turning into something more like choking.

"Four, I stopped taking that kind of advice a while ago. And no offense, or maybe," I turn to him and not even feeling the need to mask the disdain, "maybe full offense, but I don't really care to listen to your advice on that. Otherwise our childhoods may have been a lot less lonely."

His jaw tenses, and I am sure we are both reminded of the long list of people who were rejected by Tobias. Instead, it turned into the two of us being the only form of socialization for the other. One interaction in particular always stood out, and it comes to clearer view now, with a link being one of my fellow initiates.

I remember following Tobias from school. I had only been in school for a short while, too young to truly understand anything aside from what I had been taught at home and the meager lessons on behavior, but in Abnegation we were taught language, manners, and eloquence early on. It was a manner of being selfless, we were told, to be able to act in a none-intrusive manner at all times. We are to be easily understood so as not to inconvenience others. I had been excited to meet so many people from various factions, though generally the Abnegation students all stayed together. It made it easier to ensure that we all abided by the rules, and helped to maintain some sense of order. There also wasn't much talking, as it was hard to find a topic and start a conversation without coming off as "selfish". Or, at least, that was what Father and Tobias had told me. But I was content to listen to the bustle of others. At the end of the day, Tobias came to my class and retrieved me, and the two of us made our way home.

A bit farther behind us, the other students were also making their ways to their respective homes, and a set of siblings was relatively close. A boy and a girl, both my age and in my class, were walking quietly, though occasionally one would whisper to the other. As the group dwindled, there were only a handful of us still walking. Suddenly, the siblings turn to make their way to a house but the boy beckons the girl to go on, and turns toward Tobias and I. I look up and see Tobias glance at the boy before pretending not to see anything and continuing. But I can't help the curiosity, and I slow to a near stop. The boy finally reaches and offers a nod that I hesitantly return. I can see Tobias has stopped a few steps ahead of me and has turned to watch.

"I'm Caleb. My Father is Andrew Prior, I believe he works with your father?"

"Kathleen. Yes, I believe I have heard Father mention him before."

Caleb offers a shy smile. He seems kind, and I am warmed by his willingness to interact, even within Abnegation.

"I noticed we are in the same class. It is likely we will see each other often, along with my sister Beatrice. It might be beneficial for all of us to study together and collaborate for the community works."

Before I have the chance to answer, Tobias steps close and now it feels like he is towering over us. I take a step back to give myself some room and I notice Caleb doing the same, an incredulous and fearful look on both of our faces.

"I apologize, but Kathleen is expected to participate in the community with our Father. And it would be selfish of her to impose upon your family for studying. It was selfless of you to offer, but we will have to be selfish and decline."

Caleb's face is largely unchanged when he looks at me, though there is a hint of confusion now. I can only glance at him for a moment however, more concerned with what caused this change in Tobias.

"Okay. I am sorry to bother you. I will not take any more of your time. Have a nice evening."

Tobias offers no other response and instead turns back to head home. I offer a quick nod to Caleb, which he nervously returns before he heads back to his home. I struggle for a moment to catch up to Tobias, but eventually manage. For a moment, we are both silent, but it is Tobias who breaks first.

"It is rude to impose."

"I wasn't trying to impose, I did not ask for the invitation, as kind as it was," I protest.

"Maybe so. But we also cannot simply accept any and every invitation for social interaction offered to us."

"And why not? Does it not help both parties?"

"It might. But it is difficult to ensure you maintain the right sort of companions."

"What do you mean?"

We return to silence for several more steps. I think about asking something else, just to break the tension, but I notice that Tobias is thinking. So I wait for him to collect his thoughts and instead choose to just stare at my shoes.

"We cannot afford to be friendly with people who would reflect badly on our family. Father would be displeased."

It is said with a terseness that I can't quite understand at the moment. At the time, I didn't really understand the kind of horrors Father could inflict upon another human, particularly his family. Instead, I took note of the discomfort Tobias held around himself and choose to take his words to heart. While there were select few people I allowed myself to be friendly with, namely William, aside from that I shunned all offers of friendship so as to avoid Father's wrath. Or at least, avoid it according to Tobias. I learned that wasn't really the case, there was no way to avoid that inevitable torture, but by that point it was too late. Instead I was practically alone. Trapped with only my Father as reliable company, and there was nothing I wanted less than to be anywhere near him at any point in time.

"I was trying to protect you," he cuts in. I have to draw in a slow breath through my nose, ensuring I don't lose my temper fully.

"Well I don't need your protection here. I'm fine making my own choices, thanks."

He opens his mouth but the ground begins to rumble and I see the train rounding a corner and heading our way. The door also opens and Christina and Tris tumble out, running over to Will and Al who seem to be scolding them. We all gather at the edge of the roof as the train draws even closer and we each begin to run, some of us more smoothly than others, and make the leap onto one of the later cars. Tris nearly misses had Al not caught her. I head to the opposite doorway and choose to watch the scenery. I take a risk in allowing myself to lean slightly out of the car, allowing the wind to drown out the conversation happening behind me. Four comes beside me, but this time chooses to leave me alone, attention still on the rest of the initiates. He snaps something at one point and the car seemingly quiets, and the rushing wind roars ever louder as the scenery becomes more green and the fence rises into view.

When we arrive, all of us are thrown off balance, not expecting the train to come to a complete stop. Instead of a platform or roof, there is simply grassy ground in front of a wire fence. I leap out, keeping my knees bent so as not to hurt myself on landing. Turning back, the others are using the track or other metal as railing or handles to lower themselves. Four doesn't wait once the last person, Tris, has made it to the ground, instead immediately turning and calling for us to follow.

He leads us to a large gate, which leads to beyond the fence, where the grass turns to farmland and orchards. There are small openings in the fence and gate, large enough to see through, but small enough to ensure they aren't a security threat. Amity are bustling around, picking and cleaning their harvest. Others are messing with the plants, pulling dead flowers and leaves. I believe I heard Father call it "pruning" once.

Four explains the job option here, of working as a guard, and the others shift around, uncomfortable with the prospect. Of all the jobs available, it is considered one of the lowest. While some people make the choice to serve as guards, maybe for the distance or exposure to the sun that is lacking in the compound, it is generally reserved for those who rank low. At the mention of rankings, a buzz starts and whispers begin but it is Peter who asks the question that has carried through the group.

"What rank were you?"

"I was first."

And the buzz grows, along with disbelief. Ranking first allows someone to pick whatever position they could want. Generally, that leads into governing positions within the faction. Not overseeing training, or working in the control room. While they aren't terrible jobs, it seems more fitting for someone in the middle. Someone who has skill, but lacks the ability to utilize it properly. But Four has never quite lived up to expectation. Always defied the conceptions people had of him. It is one of the few things I can credit him for.

The conversation is ended as Four goes to speak to some of the guards working at the gate, who are attempting to open it. A truck can be seen waiting on the other side loaded down with both crops and people. As it drives by, a voice calls out from the back.

"Beatrice?"

And the boy hops down and speaks to a startled Tris. The boy seems familiar, but I can't quite place him. But he must have belonged to Abnegation. He and Tris are speaking quietly, though Molly interrupts at one point and both Tris and the boy seem uncomfortable. Glancing past, Four is watching the exchange rather intently, his standard pinched expression on his face.

I can't bring myself to look away, the small glimpse of familiarity keeping me locked in a cold stasis. While both Tris and the boy are both now training to live in different factions, their posture and mannerisms have shifted back to a shadow of the Abnegation they left behind. And for a moment, there is an almost childlike urge in my chest to approach. Some small part of me still longs for the connection of the people I left behind; a part of me craves that strange interaction that I saw but never joined and I know that this is likely one of the last opportunities I will ever have to rectify my loss. But I can't seem to fight off the fear that was instilled, the voice still whispering in my mind.

After a moment, the Amity boy looks disappointed before hopping back into the truck as it drives off, and Four approaches Tris and speaks quietly. It is strange to witness, I hadn't noticed Four paying any attention to Tris at all. She was rather unremarkable. But as she bites something at him and he catches himself and heads off, I find myself intrigued. And while watching just a moment further, the confusion on Tris's face shows that she might as intrigued as I am. There is a thoughtfulness to her expression, like she is trying to solve a riddle.

The rumble of the train can suddenly be felt, and we turn as a group to watch for the small silhouette of the train in the distance and we don't find ourselves waiting long. In a manner of minutes we are all lined up on the side of the tracks and beginning to jog alongside the vehicle. As we jump on, the stiffness and soreness of the others is still slightly noticeable, Tris wincing every few steps and Drew's gait being almost too slow to keep up.

The ride back is silent, no one daring to break the silence or the tension that seems to hang after the various revelations of the day. Instead we each pick a space and mull over the information or take a nap to try and catch up on the sleep we had been robbed of these past days of training. It goes by quicky, almost quicker than the trip out, and when we head back into the compound the group splits to go about their own tasks. I wait and watch for a moment, to see where everyone else heads, and decide what I will spend the few remaining hours doing. Four passes and offers a curt nod that I hesitantly return before making my way to the training room.

It is empty when I arrive, as I anticipated, and so I go to the front table and grab some wrap and prep my hands and warm them up. I run through various routines, enjoying the way the hits seem to shake my joints and muscles loose. After a while, I am warm and my body feels sore but with a nice buzz. My mind is empty for once when I hear slow steps at the entrance of the room. I finish the combination before pausing to catch my breath.

"I can't tell if you're an overachiever or simply a masochist."

"Neither," turning to face Eric as he approaches, "I'm just making sure I don't fall behind."

I turn back and begin my next combination as Eric comes steadily closer until he starts circling with a watchful eye.

"I find that possibility highly unlikely."

"A day without practice," there is a pause where I throw some hits, "is a day's practice lost."

He pauses his prowl as I complete my combo and take another rest, standing near opposite me.

"And where did you learn that?"

I had spoken without thinking. It was an instinct, to just repeat the mantra that had been driven so deep into my mind that I could recite it in my sleep. And for a moment, it isn't Eric standing opposite me. For a moment, the tall figure with a proud posture and hungry eyes is the same one who still wanders my nightmares. And an icy terror wars against the burning heat of my muscles and the ache of my clenched jaw grounds me for long enough to begin another round of practice, though I can't seem to get rid of the tension that has my entire body pulled taut. After an extra hard hit that send a sharp pain down my arm I bite out my answer.

"My Father."

Eric is silent, and I glance to the side to see him observing with an unreadable expression on his face. He doesn't give a response until I throw the last hit of the round.

"It's Marcus Eaton, correct?"

And to my horror and hatred, my body reacts to simply hearing the name. My elbow locks and I hit the bag too hard and too stiff and suddenly my shoulder to the tips of my fingers is burning and stinging and my eyes shut to stem the blur of tears that flood out. I bite my lip, but take a deep breath and look at Eric and offer a nod before cradling my arm.

"Yes, it was."

He comes around and reaches for my arm, but the sudden movement and the conversation has me jumpy and I flinch backward, pulling my arm ever closer to my body. The jostling pulls a yelp and I have to suck in a breath as I bite my lip yet again. Looking up, Eric seems startled before it shifts again to something unreadable and yet nearly frightening. But my hesitance and reaction must be more obvious than I had thought as he seems to soften ever so slightly. He moves more slowly, telegraphing his movements as he goes to take my arm and this time I allow him to take it with no resistance.

He grabs my elbow and begins to straighten my arm and goes through an evaluation of movement through the various joints of my arm. It takes several minutes, but as he rotates my shoulder in both directions he finally stops and lowers my arm gently.

"You should be fine, I think you've just strained the joint. You should rest it. Put something cold on your shoulder and elbow and try to limit use."

There is silence as I gently try and massage my shoulder and elbow and Eric watches silently. There is a storminess to his expression now, though is attempting to be gentle, something that seems a little unnatural for him. But now there is guilt twisting my stomach, at his reaction and at having caused problems and taken his time.

"Sorry," I mutter as I let my arm drop and I turn to look at him. His expression changes slightly, confusion resting atop the conflicted expression from before. His lifted brow pulls at some of the piercings and while it looks strange, I find the movement catching my eye before I look back to meet Eric's gaze.

"What are you apologizing for?"

"For taking your time, and causing a bit of a problem. I'm sure you are rather busy, and shouldn't have to check a stupid injury made from a mistake outside of practice."

Eric's brow lowers and his face softens again.

"You don't need to apologize. It's not an inconvenience, if I was busy I wouldn't have stopped in to begin with. And you're just lucky that I know some things about injuries, otherwise you would likely have had to deal with Four's bickering in the morning at training."

I let out a breathy laugh, both amused and also bothered by Eric's statement. Because it is true, and there is nothing I want less than to have that conversation with Four.

"Then thank you."

The smile Eric gives lacks the hunger that normally hides in most of his expressions. Instead there is an openness that is almost frightening from someone as dangerous as him.

"Of course. Now go and rest up. Remember, you still have training tomorrow and a mistake is not a worthy excuse for poor performance."

I offer a smile and a nod as I turn to leave, taking off the wrap around my hands and placing it on the table. When I reach the door, Eric's voice causes me to pause.

"Kat, if you need to talk, I know I may not be the most approachable, but I can listen when given the right reason to."

And I don't know what it is that frightens me so deeply about the offer, whether it be the willingness from someone I never anticipated, the potential of admitting what had happened, simply having to face it again, or something else entirely, but I leave the room without another word. And I know it is rude, not to thank Eric for an offer that seems uncharacteristic of him, but simply being in the same area as the thought of that admittance, of the offer, has my skin crawling. And so I leave without pausing at all, and tell myself that I will thank him at another time, or maybe even just never talk about this again, because in some ways I don't know if I can.

Hey, so I am so sorry that it has taken me so long to update. I am not going to make a promise I won't keep in saying that I am updating really frequently (because I have done so too often and failed to meet the promise), but please just know that I have no intention of dropping this story. And if characters out in a way that seems to go against how they may have been portrayed in the book, I hope you can see past it in a way, as Tris is a rather biased narrator and in some ways the ways that certain characters are portrayed as rather one-dimensional and I'd like to explore some other avenues. But I hope you are enjoying thus far, and as always please feel free to comment or even PM me, I love hearing from you all and I hope you are all well! Until next time, Stay Fierce!

~ChildOfLupus