When I awake, it is to general silence that is only broken by the soft sounds of breathing. It is dark throughout the room, and only the occasional shift of people moving in their sleep breaks the peace and stillness. I take a deep breath, eyes closed for a moment. I glance at the clock above the doorway, the only thing in the room telling the time. 4:32 am. It'll be a few more hours before the others wake, and any other day I would do the same, simply rolling over to catch more of the scant amount of sleep we are allotted. But I am struck with what today is and anxiety flows through me quickly.
Visiting Day.
It is the day that so many other initiates looks forward to for the entirety of their initiation. But there are two ways that today can go, and either is a horrible outcome for me. But one is at least mildly more tolerable. Four blatantly asked to speak, and while he might not be the intended family to visit, he is the only thing I can consider family that I am willing to even be near at this point. But with my mind already racing, I must come to terms with that fact that I am not going to be getting any more sleep.
Being as quiet as possible, I rise and get dressed, running my fingers through my hair to break apart any knots before throwing it up loosely to keep it out of my face. I make my way out to the main area of the compound, to a familiar path overlooking the Pit.
Maybe it is just the air of the day, but I find myself reminiscing. Just a few weeks ago I was sitting in this same spot, eating food and pondering what exactly I was doing. A few weeks before that I found myself cowering in my own house. A glance at my shoes reminds me of just how different I am in such a short period of time. Even with something as simple as my hair. In Abnegation, it was standard practice to leave your hair down, only lightly brushed. But here I throw it up without a second thought, it has already become habit. As much as I have maintained a distance from others, I still find myself engaging in more physical contact with others in the few weeks I have been here than I had in all my time in Abnegation.
Strangely enough, even the quiet that I had found so peaceful in Abnegation, feels odd here in the compound. There are only one or two people who are moving about in the Pit below. They are stretching, speaking quietly to one another. But it feels so odd in this compound, which is powered by the bustle of people going about their business with an attitude of carelessness that somehow brings about cohesion. And as broken as the structure may seem, as many issues that exist in the leadership and the governance of this faction, there is this sense of connection and family that I had never imagined. And yet here I sit alone in the silence, choosing to isolate myself on the single day of initiation that glorifies and encourages fellowship.
Quiet steps echo against the stone in the hallway behind me. They approach slowly, coming to stop next to me, far too familiar as I think back to the beginning of initiation.
"Initiates aren't expected to be awake for another two hours. So what leads to someone as sleep-deprived as you initiates to be up so early, just to sit on a ledge in silence?"
I have nothing to say, at least no coherent response to that. I can hardly bring myself to form coherent thoughts with the frantic fragments sputtering through my mind, dying halfway through and never quite reaching completion. There is a still silence before the feet move, and with a huff, legs hang over the edge next to mine, swinging ever so slightly. Hands settle near mine, and the silence settles back for a moment.
"I'm sure most people are looking forward to this day. It seems only natural that people miss their families. But," I pause, unsure how much to say, "I'm not sure how to really face a day like this."
"I guess it all really depends on what you consider to be your family."
While it isn't inherently a response I had wanted, I can't exactly argue with it. Chancing a glance over, Eric is also glancing over the Pit, a contemplative look in his eyes. Noting my looking, he glances over to meet my eyes. His expression does not change, only becomes slightly softer, jaw unclenching and brows pulling less. But I feel my gut twist, unsure of how to proceed, not knowing exactly how to get the thoughts racing across my mind to form into proper words and sentences. But eventually I settle on what feels like the most appropriate response.
"And what if I don't know what I consider to be my family anymore? What if I am unsure if I even know what family means?"
Again there is silence, a heavy silence that hangs in their air. Eric seems to be thinking quite deeply, a clouded look settling on his face. And with the relaxed set to his face, I am struck for a moment by how young Eric looks. When he and Four are over us in training, there is this attitude and facade of authority that makes them seem so mature and aged, but here, sitting silently above the Pit, pondering the premise of family, I am struck with several thoughts, all around the fact that all of us are too young for this. Did Eric have a family he left behind? Does he feel alone? I don't know that I have ever seen Eric hanging with others, either in the Pit or in the dining hall. He lets out a sigh that seems to come from something deeper, his shoulders hanging low for a mere moment.
"Maybe that's just something you have to figure out for yourself. I'm not sure anyone here can give you an adequate answer for that."
Turning back to the Pit, more people are trickling in, and there is a decent crowd starting to mill about. The compound feels like it is waking up and coming to life, and the sunlight is streaming in brighter through the windows, the lights along the wall dimming steadily to match. Eric shifts before coming up to a crouch and then standing. I follow, assuming it is time for breakfast, before the moment everyone is waiting for.
I hesitate for a moment, staring out at the people laughing and roughing around with one another in the Pit. A warmth settles on my shoulder and the pressure of a firm grip pulls my attention. I turn my head slightly, looking at Eric out of the corner of my eye.
"Come on. The party will be starting soon. Might as well get it over with."
One final glace back over the pit and I nod my head and stride past Eric, making my way to the dining hall.
When I enter, the buzz of conversation is louder than normal, but many of the initiates haven't made it in yet. Peter and Drew are at a far table but they are the only ones I can locate. The others must not be up. The members seem to be excited to see the proceedings of the day, some glancing at us initiates and whispering fervently. I choose another empty table at the far corner, grabbing a pastry and nibbling, watching as people enter. The others trickle in slowly, coming in small groups. The chatter growls steadily as the minutes pass. It is close to time, and those of us in the hall rise, making our way out and to the Pit. Members are watching, and some give thumbs up, others giving looks of judgment, though what for I am unsure.
The walk to the Pit is nearly silent, but the tension is unbearable. When the hallway opens to the open floor, the groups of people becomes overwhelming. Many of the clusters are people clothed solely in black, Dauntless parents with their Dauntless children. The group in front of me, Peter and his cronies, Molly having joined them during the dining hour, has two different reactions. Molly and Drew both scan the crowd with a look of hope before their shoulders slump at the realization that no one came. Peter scans the crowd and swells, racing toward a couple across the room, trying to appear nonchalant while excitement creates a bounce in his steps.
Several of the others arrive as the hour strikes, and they head to their own families. A splotch of gray catches my eye and my heart races for a moment before I see the dress and petite figure of Natalie Prior. Not wanting to be in the way, I slowly wander to a guardrail. Leaning back and glancing to the side, I note Four standing further down the railing, in a similar position.
A part of me feels the need to wander to him, because in spite of all the issues, a part of me will never be able to separate him from my idea of family. No matter how angry I am, no matter how spiteful I am, I will always view him in one way or another as my brother. But another part of me watches the way he observes, the way he seems somewhat carefree to just observe, and I don't want to disturb that. In that moment, he glances in my direction and his eyes widen, almost as if he forgot I was here. My lips form a tight smile, one that he returns. He glances back across the crowd, pondering for a moment.
Taking a deep breath, I make my way to Four, leaning back against the rail and watching the crowd again. And the silence between us is for once somewhat comfortable. I am left wondering what we might have been had we been raised in any other environment. Would we have been something akin to healthy if our father had been anyone else?
"You're doing well," he breaks the silence, arms crossed in front of his chest.
"Thank you." Nothing else feels appropriate. I'm not entirely sure where this conversation is supposed to head. He seems hesitant before speaking again, moving the words around his mouth as if he is worried how they will come out.
"Honestly, I wasn't sure how this would go for you." A snort blows from my nose, my face molding to my surprise. I was also unsure how this initiation would go, but for a moment a flare of hurt twists in my stomach. It must show because another uncertain sound pulls from Four and his arms fall.
"Not that I doubted your abilities, but moreso because you were fighting more than most. And you have a history of going against expectation. Something you have continued here, but not in a way I might have expected."
"What do you mean?" He is silent for a bit, expression darker than it had been thus far.
"You've made friends in dangerous places, Kat. And I know that you think you have it all under control, but I cannot stress how misguided that is. The people in authority here are not people to trust. They aren't what they appear to be on the surface. They come off as welcoming, but," and he pauses, almost as if realizing the public setting and how conspiratorial his words sound. His voice is much quieter when he continues, mouth barely moving, "it's all a game of strategy. We're all just pieces to be moved, or cast aside. And if you become one of the latter, there is nothing you can do to stop it."
It isn't that I have ever doubted this. It doesn't take long to realize the strange underworkings of the leadership here. If Max makes a command, there is nothing that can stop it. And if you aren't tangential to the work, you would never know it was happening until it is already done. Abnegation, and Father in particular, taught both of us that authority cannot be trusted inherently. But at the same time, Eric has been one of the only people to show kindness, even if it is in a rather strange way. Eric is not kind in a gentle way, nor in a nurturing way. He is kind much in the way a storm is kind to miss you. And I do not doubt that if there came a true reason, he would rescind that kindness in a heartbeat. But I can't find it in myself to find fault in that. Maybe a broken part of me simply wants to cling to whatever kindness I can find. Or maybe a naive part of me wonders if maybe I could prove it wrong. But regardless, I can't bring myself to turn away the kindness that is offered. Why, despite my attempts to detach, I still find myself working with the other initiates, joining in the occasional joke, smiling back.
"I know you just want support, and truly I want you to be happy. But I can't just watch you walk towards a burning building like this. I know you might not believe this, but I really don't want to see you hurt."
It hurts to hear. To be faced with the fact that Four knows the way I've been pushing him away. And what possibly hurts the most is coming to terms with that fact that in spite of it all, after the hurt dampens down I am left with the fact that I don't hate Tobias. I will always be hurt that he left, but I can't fault him. Were our roles reversed, I would have likely made the same choice. And I have to acknowledge that he has tried to help me, tried to support me the entire time I have been here, but I've been the one to push him away without ever explaining why.
"I don't doubt you Tobias. And," there is a catch in my breath, and a waver to my voice that I neither expect or can control, "I'm sorry for the way that I have pushed you away. I was angry. I still am angry. But at the same time, I understand. And I don't fault you for your choice. I was never really angry with your choice. I was angry that you left and it felt like you never looked back. Like you knew the man that Marcus was, knew what you were leaving and you didn't care. I know you couldn't do anything about it, but it still hurt."
Four's eyes are mournful. His mouth turned down, a tension in a jaw that looks painful. And his breathing is also unsteady. His head tips back and when he swallows, it looks rough. When he speaks his voice is equally unsteady.
"I mourned every day I left you in that house with him. I didn't want to leave you there. If I could have taken you with me, I would have. And there were days I almost went back to get you. But I couldn't figure out how."
"It's okay." He starts to argue, sounds escaping from his mouth, but I cut him off, "I'm not saying it was good. I'm not saying it didn't hurt. But I'm saying you made the choice you needed to make. And I don't fault you for that."
I am suddenly aware of the shift of air in the room. People are going quiet, and there is a chatter rising in intensity. Tobias and I look at each other before looking back across the crowd, trying to find what has caused the stir. The crowd suddenly parts as a man strides through, mask of arrogance covering a mild rage. A gray coat is billowing behind him, hair combed back, hands crossed behind his back. And every inch of my body runs cold. Beside me I feel Tobias stiffen and hear his breath catch. Both of us stand up from the rail and our bodies are at attention.
By the time Marcus reaches us, I am trembling.
"What are you doing here?" Tobias spits the words out, but they are quiet, almost like he can't believe what he's seeing. Marcus seems shocked by the question, but there is no recognition.
"I am here to see my family. It is Visiting Day. I'm sure even you lot honor traditions for initiation such as this, don't you?"
Confusion darts across Tobias's face, being addressed in such a manner. I honestly can't tell is Marcus is bluffing or if he genuinely doesn't recognize his own son after such a short time. Tobias shifts to stand slightly in front of me, blocking me partially from Marcus's view. That is was draws a true reaction. The rage bubbles back to the surface for just a moment before being schooled back behind that calm facade. People are turning to stare, muttering continuing. Something to the side catches attention for a moment, and as I turn to look, I see what is almost a shadow stride up to interrupt the scene that is unfolding.
"Marcus, to what do we owe this pleasure? Are you here to speak with Max?" Eric has an almost saccharine smile on his face, but his eyes are colder than normal, calculating. Marcus lets out a sigh before turning a smile of his own to Eric.
"No, as I've already explained, to the young man here, I'm simply here to see my child for Visiting Day. As is custom among factions. I see another upstanding Abnegation member here," a gesture to , "so I fail to see why my arrival has caused such a stir. It really is nothing to note."
"Oh, and who might you be visiting? I was unaware we had a relative of yours among the initiates."
I quickly drop my gaze to the floor as Marcus turns to look at me. I can't look at him. I can't look at him. I can't look at him. My breathing quickens against my will and yet my head still feels like it is swimming. Tobias shifts even further in front of me.
"My daughter Kathleen."
"Ah," Eric's face twists into a mockery of regret, "well unfortunately, your daughter told me she wasn't expecting any company today and so I am having her help me and some of the other leadership with some minor work since she would be available."
Both Tobias and I turn to stare at Eric, who stands so confident. There is amusement on his face, and a haughty air of confidence, no tension or hesitation at all. A glance at Marcus reveals first confusion, and then disbelief.
"Excuse me?"
"Yes, it's rather invaluable assistance, as she is one of the only people who said they would be able to help, and so we do need her, so I apologize but I must borrow her. But I think Max was to attend to some business and can speak to you, so as not to make your trip a waste."
There is silence as Marcus seems at a loss for words. His face twists between many emotions, settling on rage. In the meantime, Eric has moved to stand beside Tobias, fully blocking me from Marcus's view. As such, I can't see his face anymore. I can only guess based on the sounds he makes and the expressions on Eric's and Tobias's faces.
"You can't just-" Marcus starts.
"Ah, but I can. Ultimately it is up to Kat to decide. She did say she wasn't expecting visitors. Now she can stay and spend her time with you if she so chooses. All she has to do is say the word and I will leave her to your ever so wonderful company." He glances over his shoulder at me, amusement still oozing from every pore. "But is seems that she is not so inclined to remain, and so regretfully I will be borrowing her. But again, if you want to speak to Max, I'm sure Four here would love to show you the way."
Without another word, Eric turns and heads out of the Pit. I race after him without a moment's hesitation. I hear Marcus behind me, fussing and I turn to see Four and some other Dauntless members approaching him. Marcus looks at me and I am again terrified when I meet his eyes, his face twisted in a snarl.
"Kathleen! What exactly do you think you're doing?"
I look at Tobias, who simply nods and turns back to Marcus. I turn back around and follow Eric, only slowing once I have caught up in the hallway. He doesn't stop, simply keeps walking down the hall without a word. And while I am filled with a relief at being away from Marcus, at having escaped the demon that wanders my nightmares, I am almost so confused at all the events that have taken place in the last few minutes. I jog slightly to walk beside Eric, glancing up at him but his expression is unreadable. As we continue to walk in silence, I feel a pressure building at my temples, and finally I catch Eric's arm and he suddenly comes to a complete stop, still staring ahead. I now notice the tension strung all along his body, and the steely look in his eyes, and I am again nervous, though I am not fully sure why.
"Eric?"
He gives no response. No reaction at all. And it is disconcerting to look at him like this. I turn to look at the floor ahead of us, the lights dimly reflecting on the floor.
"Thank you." It feels like the only appropriate response. He is still silent, and looking down the hallway, I am lost. I have no clue what hallway we are in, or where we are headed. I glance back at Eric, and his expression is somehow darker. Four's words echo in my mind, unbidden. You can't trust them. But suddenly Eric's face turns slightly. Not to face me, but angled in my direction.
"What did he do?"
And while it is a question I should have expected, it has never been one I am ready to answer. Even still I don't have the words to describe the torment of living in that house. The never ending torture of living with the monster we left in the Pit. I know that speaking of it is supposed to bring some relief, allow someone to move on. But every time I start to try to find the words, my throat closes. It feels like I am dying all over again. Even now, all I can bring myself to do is shake my head. Eric looks at me now, but then quickly looks away again.
"He hurt you."
It's not a question. Because it would require a lot of naivety to witness what just happened and not draw the dots together. And so I only nod, mouth pursed tight as I chew my lips.
"He hurt a lot of people," is the only response I can make. The answer doesn't seem to satisfy Eric. He is silent for a bit, tension holding his entire body. His eyes are fixed on a single point on the floor, and his breathing seems to stop for a period before resuming slightly labored, seemingly unable to catch his breath. When he speaks gain, it is quiet, controlled, and terrifying.
"I can do something about that." He looks up, eyes dark and burning in a way I had never seen before. When Eric is cruel, his eyes are cold and amused, unfeeling and lacking empathy. But in this moment, they are burning and the rage is boiling on the surface of his skin. It is visceral and unsettling. There is no doubt or hesitation in the statement. And I know that if I said the word, he would follow through. For one of the first times, I truly do understand Four's warnings. Eric is not a safe man. But there is something that settles within me, a part that I cannot take pride in, that feels safe. A part of me that is at ease knowing I am protected, even if only for this single moment.
"Eric, you can't."
"I am more than capable of showing Marcus how the Dauntless conquer fear."
"No Eric," shaking my head as he turns to face me, "you can't risk that. He's a leader just like you. It would cause outrage."
"Cause an outrage?" There is disbelief in his voice, a tilt to his brows, "where was the outrage when he hurt you?"
At that I drop my eyes. He's right, but at the same time, it is a premise I try not to dwell on. It was a fact that I had come to terms with. It was all unfair. I was supposed to be protected. Someone like Marcus should not have been left unchecked. But it happened. And I have no one I can blame more than Marcus.
"It doesn't matter. It's done. I'm out of his grips. I'm safe here. I'm not going to let you risk yourself, risk this faction, for this. Not like this."
"No one is safe when people like that walk around unchecked. Especially not people like that, people who are put in charge for no reason."
I look back up, and his eyes are still burning. His mouth is twisted into a snarl.
"It only causes a problem if I'm caught. There are ways of making people disappear quietly Kat. Especially people like him. When people know what atrocities someone like him commits, it seems to be a lot easier for people to keep their mouths shut."
My chest closes slowly, my breathing becoming shallow. I can't get a full breath, my thoughts racing. In spite of all his confidence, Eric can't make a risk like this. Not for a personal vendetta.
"Eric please," I reach out a hand and grab his wrist. He looks down at my hand, expression still stormy, but not seething in the same way it has been. "You can't take this risk for something so personal."
He looks back up, taking a deep breath. He searches my face, eyes darting sporadically.
"And what if it goes beyond this?"
"What do you mean?"
There is hesitation. There is an uncertainty in the way that he licks his lips, glancing down the hallway. His weight shifts and he looks to the ceiling as he speaks.
"There are changes happening Kat. People are too comfortable. Traditions have made us unstable. People have been left unchecked, and authorities can't be relied on the way they should be," a glance back down, "and that's all I can say. But just know that we defend our own. We give respect to those who earn it."
The statement feels pointed with all that has happened. The events of today have me exhausted, but in spite of all of my reservations, I find a fondness and gratefulness for what Eric has done, and the statements he has made. I become aware of my hand still around his wrist, which he still hasn't shaken off. It is another reminder of the distance of Abnegation, how touch is so seldom indulged in, and it is almost like an itch, a craving now. Moving without allowing myself to doubt, I step forward and wrap my arms around him, placing my ear against his chest and listen to the rhythm of his heartbeat.
"Thank you, for everything today."
At first he is stiff, unmoving beneath my arms. But a hand eventually raises, cradling my head and his hands are surprisingly warm. And for a moment, we stand without moving, letting it all settle. But he speaks and I can feel his voice where the side of my face is pressed to his chest.
"Go to the training room or dorm. No one should bother you."
A firmness settles atop my head, his chin coming to rest on my hair, and he wraps his arms around me tightly for a moment before releasing and taking a step back. He gives a nod, which I return, and he turns and strides down the hallway. I turn the other way, heading in the direction of the Pit before finding a connecting hallway that I recognize and making my way to the training room, itching to take my brain away from everything today.
Howdy! Thank you for taking the time to read! I really do appreciate that people are still reading this fic, and people still care about Kat (and I guess these versions of the characters since almost everyone acts pretty different from how they are originally written). Writing this chapter was somewhat difficult since the original book gave so little to work with, so I hope it doesn't feel too off the wall. But regardless, thanks again for taking the time to read, I really appreciate it! I hope it is still at least a little enjoyable. Until next time, Stay Fierce!
~ChildOfLupus