I continue to shoot until my arms are numb, my muscles alternating between burning and buzzing when I take a moment to pause. Four finally stops his pacing and lifts a hand. As we notice, we turn and look, waiting to see whatever it is he wants.
"That's enough. Break for lunch but don't be late getting back here for afternoon training." He says nothing else as he turns around and stands in a corner of the room, leaning back against the wall and just watching us. We hesitate for a moment before we begin to file out of the room and down the hallway, making our way to the dining hall. I wait and follow at the back of the group and watch where people go when we enter.
A group of initiates claim a table, Beatrice—or was is Tris now?—sitting with a few other Candor initiates and the Erudite transfer that I hadn't met yet. They are loud and rambunctious and far too social for me at this time, or honestly ever. Edward and Myra have claimed a pair of seats near the corner of the room and are sitting very close. No need to be anywhere near that. The last option amongst the initiates is with Peter, Drew, and Molly. Peter is talking somewhat animatedly, and Drew and Molly seem to laugh and respond like his personal audience.
None of these options are all too appealing to someone used to silence and strained composure. All I want is to be alone and be able to sort through my thoughts. An idea pops emerges and I walk up to the table Edward and Myra are sitting at. I grab a sandwich off the platter in the center and place it on a paper napkin, folding the sandwich up neatly. I turn and head out the door and make my way to the walkway by the Pit. It is bustling with people and I sit on the ledge, letting my feet hang over the edge. I unwrap the sandwich again and begin eating while watching the various people going about and doing their own things.
There is a sense of order in the chaos of the bustle of the people as they wander from place to place. I watch a group, laughing with arms flung around shoulders, as they make their way into the tattoo parlor. Their laughter echoes loudly enough that I can still hear it from across the clearing. Another pair come out of the clothing station with the black fabric of some outfit hanging over their arms. Its the middle of the day and yet the compound feels so alive with people doing whatever their heart desires. There aren't groups forcing people to go outside the compound to give food to the factionless or demanding quiet so as not to disturb others. And yet somehow there is still that sense of community that was stressed so heavily in Abnegation but somehow never felt real. It is a strange thing to realize that the forced sense of obligation to others does not make the connection amongst others any stronger. What was it all for? What does Abnegation gain from all that they do?
Footsteps suddenly begin to echo from behind me and for a moment there is a choice in turning around or trying to ignore them. I came out here for the solitude and maybe, if I make it obvious that I want to be left alone, they might take the hint. If its who I think it is, then I might just leave because nothing is less appealing than dealing with Four.
"Now what is an initiate like you doing out here by yourself?" Eric's voice surprises me, and I turn slightly to watch his approach. His expression betrays his amusement, contradicting the condescending tone of his question.
"Just wanted some peace and quiet." I turn back to the clearing as I answer, finishing the last few bites of my lunch. I can see Eric standing in my periphery, feet right at the ledge.
"It's dangerous to stand at a ledge like that. Especially when the person next to you is right at the level of your knees."
His responding laugh is like a bark and I glance up to watch as his head tilts back. He then grins down at me and the cockiness written across his face is almost like a challenge.
"But I know that you're too smart to pull something like that."
"Oh? And what makes you so sure?" His grin pulls impossibly wider.
"Because you understand the value of connections. Powerful friends get you into powerful positions."
I simply smile as I turn back to the pit and watch as the group from the tattoo parlor come back out, one with a new face piercing and a couple others that seem to have added to the growing collection of metal in their ears. Eric squats down and then settles next to me on the ledge, copying my posture. There is a humor to someone as imposing as Eric sitting on a ledge with his legs hanging over like a child.
"And you consider yourself to be one of those people in powerful positions?" I ask, watching him out of the corner of my eye.
"I mean, I would consider a leader of Dauntless as a powerful position. I know you weren't from Erudite but I'd think you'd be smart enough to figure that out."
It's my turn to laugh, though mine is far more subdued. Laughter is an unfamiliar reaction for me and I think that much is obvious from how hollow it sounds. I can see Eric look at me and there is a confusion that is hidden, though what exactly it is that confuses him is unclear. I return to watching the people milling around the pit, not wanting to see his expressions anymore. Its easier to pretend you are safe from scrutiny when you can't read their face.
"You know, I met a lot of people that grew up in Erudite and were dumber than a pile of rocks. I don't think your birth faction really means all that much."
I hear him scoff as he turns back to face the pit, though I can feel him continuing to watch me from the corner of his eyes. There is a silence that hangs for a moment and I place my palms on the ground behind me, leaning back and resting on my arms.
"You mean your family didn't train you to sacrifice everything for others? You don't still feel an urge to help everyone in need?" The tension at the corner of his mouth does little to hide his smile. And honestly I don't have an answer immediately. I don't really know what my family trained me for and I feel no urges except to separate myself as far from that old life as possible.
"I would say that my family trained me to survive. I help those who I can, and the people I can't help need to learn to help themselves . Or at least they need to figure out where else to go."
"That seems a bit harsh there," his smile vanishes and is replaced with something akin to disbelief, "I thought you stiffs were supposed to be a bunch of bleeding hearts."
"And I told you," I turn to look at him, "that I'm not a stiff. And clearly, I never really was one to begin with."
"So what are you then?"
"The biggest threat the other initiates have ever seen."
Eric seemed stunned for a second, a blank expression slipping over his face. Suddenly he throws his head back again and lets out a body-wracking laugh. There is a sort of tranquility in the lack of threat here. Eric has every opportunity to ruin my life, having the power to kick me out. He could kill me just by pushing me off this ledge. And yet I am more comfortable sitting in this dangerous place, with who is arguably the most dangerous man I have ever met, than I ever felt at home. And when I chose Dauntless, I knew I would have to face that reminder in the eyes and lines of Four but I hadn't realized just how much it would bother me; I didn't think I would be haunted so much just by seeing glimpses of Father in someone who I know hates Marcus as much as I do.
Eric and the rest of Dauntless is something of an escape. Here, no one mentions my family. I have no ties and the only person who can define who I am is me. People view me for what I have achieved on my own. There are no closets to prison me, and no hand can touch me without my permission unless they are willing to fight every second after. I can defend myself without fear of further punishment.
Eric finally calms down, the smile still on his face.
"With a statement like that, I don't doubt it."
"I mean, you're free to doubt it if you please. That won't make it any less true."
"Careful now, remember who you're talking to. I'm one of the people who decides if you stay or leave. I control your score during this initiation."
His smile is more aloof again, and his face is tilted up slightly so he is looking down at me. However I don't feel upset or insulted. If anything, I only feel amused in return.
"But if you got rid of me, who would provide you with this level of entertainment and conversation?"
"Fair enough. Guess we gotta make sure you do well." My brain seems to stop for a second and I feel my confusion make itself known on my face. Eric watches, giving me a moment to try and process and ask for the clarification I seemingly need.
"We?" I ask, turning to him.
"Once again, I'm one of the people with the power to influence the initiation. And you're competing against not only the other transfers, but also the Dauntless born. And regardless of what you think about your birth faction, the Dauntless born initiates do have an advantage for this. So you're going to need at least a little help to be as outstanding as you claim to want."
"And you're willing to help a random initiate you just met?"
"You said it yourself earlier," he starts to get up from the ledge, standing and offering me a hand, "Who else will provide me with such entertainment. Plus, I'd love to see you ruin some of your fellow initiates."
I accept the hand and let him pull me up. He turns and starts walking towards the dining hall and I follow behind, neither of us saying anything and before we reach the door Eric heads down another hallway without a word. I enter the hall right as the others are getting up from their tables and I notice Four standing at the other set of doors. His arms are crossed over his chest and he looks up when I walk in. He gives me a confused look, but I ignore him and instead move to stand in the line that is forming in front of him. Without a word he turns and leads us down the hallway, but to a different room. As we enter, the floor groans beneath us, the wooden floorboards giving a little, making me ever so slightly uneasy. There is a large circle drawn on the middle of the floor and a chalkboard sits opposite us, with our names written out like a roll call. But what really catches my eye as we file in are the heavy bags hanging along the length of the room.
My arms are still buzzing slightly from the morning's activities and it looks like that isn't going to be stopping anytime soon.
Four goes and stands near the center and turns to us, waiting. A few of us start to make our way to the bags, the others following shortly after and once we all claim a bag and focus on Four, he starts his speech.
There is something about this being important, but the main idea is today is an introduction to fighting and tomorrow begins the brawling. He gives a short demonstration of various moves while naming them and then has us practice on our own. After giving us a few moments to get the feel of the bag with some punches, he introduces some kicks and then begins to observe. He prowls around silently and with a couple glances I notice some of the others getting nervous as he approaches.
I somehow manage to be next to Peter yet again and I can hear his grunts and exhales loudly next to me. I take a deep breath before resetting my feet to begin a slow combination again. While I have no experience in proper fighting, I know what a solid punch feels like. And in turn, I also know what it's like to be on the receiving end of a hard hit, and I have no plans to feel that again. Marcus taught his children how to survive, if nothing else. I didn't dare to fight back often, but I learned quite a bit those few times I found the courage to stare the devil in the eye.
First lesson was how important feet were. I threw one punch and he threw me to the floor. The next time I made sure I could stay upright. But beyond that, the feet put the power behind a punch.
But I then had to learn that you can't sacrifice agility for stability. If I planted myself too firmly, I became an easy target and the next morning I had to be a game of camouflage to ensure no one noticed the outcome of my mistake.
Lastly, observations were crucial. I may not know how to fight properly, but if I can master the basics of everything today, then it would only take a few hits in the right places to ensure that I wouldn't be at risk.
A sharp pain races through my elbow and breaks me from my thoughts and I grasp my elbow for a moment before extending my arm out to stretch it and try and lessen the sting.
"You alright there stiff?" Peter gives a smug grin and a raised brow as he glances at my arm.
"How many times do I have to tell you I'm not a stiff before it gets through that dense thing you call a head?" He snorts before turning back to his bag and throwing some punches.
"Maybe if you actually stopped acting like a Stiff I'd believe you."
When I throw my next punch at the bag, another sting runs down my arm but I just pinch my mouth shut and continue, as if nothing was wrong.
"And how exactly am I acting like a Stiff currently?"
Peter pauses his practice to turn to me, a quizzical look on his face.
"Seriously? Everything about you screams Stiff."
"I'd disagree with you there initiate." Four's voice comes from behind me and startles me for a second, once again leading to my punch hitting the bag wrong and I can't hide the wince this time.
"Clearly you don't interact with many Stiffs if you think anyone like them could even get on that train."
Peter simply scoffs and returns to his punching. Four begins to pace around me, and for the brief moment that I look at him, I can see the concern in his eyes as he watches me rub my elbow for a moment. Ignoring him, I return to my hits and pretend he isn't there.
"If you hurt your arm too much you aren't going to be able to keep up during the sparring matches tomorrow."
For several seconds I continue with my hits, and he simply stands there watching. Arms crossed and brows furrowed he is putting up his biggest "I'm intimidating" front and for some reason I can't quite place, it makes me even more irritated with his entire presence.
"I'll be more than fine." He sighs before moving forward and standing slightly behind the bag to try and look me in the eye.
"I'm serious. You need to pay better attention to more than what you are immediately doing. You can't just brute force your way through everything here. You and Tris are behind the others in terms of physical fitness."
I can't stop the laugh the rips from my mouth. Peter and a few others nearby glance over and look between Four and I before Four turns to them with a deep frown and they quickly return to their practice.
"Oh trust me, I can't speak for Tris, but I know for a fact that I've been training for fights for long enough. I'll be fine."
His mouths pulls ever tighter and there is a tension at the corner of his eyes. He starts to open his mouth in what I can only imagine as an apology, or worse yet a question that I don't feel like answering.
"Is that all?" I ask before Four can vocalize whatever it is in his head. It startles him and he has to take a moment to respond.
"Excuse me?" I take a deep breath and step back from the bag, allowing my arms to drop. When I finally meet his eyes, it is almost instinct to flinch when I see that deep blue combined with those deep set eyes. I look back to the floor, and take yet another breath to steady myself.
"I asked if that is all you wanted to say. Because if so I think your time would be better spent helping the others who actually want you input."
I hear a stutter in Peter's hits and I can almost hear the shock in the others.
"Initiate," there is a tightness to Four's voice and were I anyone else, I might be afraid. Popping off to the wrong person can easily get you kicked out. And so far Four has done a masterful job at intimidating the other initiates.
The difference is that I have faced down monsters far worse. The worst Four can do is simply in his appearance. I am more afraid of his face than I am of him. And there is little that can overwhelm that numbness that I was trained into. There is little that can compare to the fear that was buried deep within my bones; the fear that crawled along my skin with butterfly touches.
"You need to learn to watch your tone. A good performance alone won't necessarily ensure you success here."
Without another word he turns and continues down the line, passing Peter without any comment. I return to my practice only to be interrupted yet again.
"Man, maybe you do belong here. You obviously don't belong in Erudite, that's for sure."
With yet another sigh, I throw the final punch in the set and close my eyes, turning to Peter, trying to control my now heavy breathing.
"And what exactly is that supposed to mean?" The grin he wears is absolutely gleeful, and it doesn't fit quite right on his face. He throws another punch of his own and then takes a moment to catch his breath.
"Only and idiot would be that bold with someone of importance in the faction you are trying to join. I thought he might kick you out immediately with that type of disrespect."
"It wasn't disrespect," I glance past Peter to watch as Four demonstrates a kick to a defeated looking Myra, "I simply don't have time for the pointless advice. If was helpful I'd be more than happy to listen."
The rest of the time is spent in relative silence, aside from the grunts and breathing that echoes through the line of us. After a while, long past the point of losing the feeling in my fists, Four turns and dismisses us. Several of the others almost run out of the room. Rubbing my knuckles and wrist, I adopt a slower pace and meander my way out. It is a bit too early for dinner and so I follow some of the others to the Pit, full of people milling about to and from the various shops. I watch the female Candor initiate – Christina was is? – drag Tris into the clothing store while the two boys head to the tattoo parlor. I lost track of the other initiates, luckily meaning that I may have escaped Peter and his snide comments for the remainder of the evening.
There are a limited number of options, which is still infinitely more than I had in Abnegation, and the choices leave me paralyzed. What is the best use of my time? Is there a most efficient choice? In Abnegation there was no "free time", simply more time spent to help others. If you were not actively doing your assigned job then you were expected to fulfill a list of tasks to help those less fortunate. Here there is no such list. We are allowed to make our own choices.
Looking down at what I'm wearing, a simple black ensemble that was given to us, and realize that maybe Christina's idea isn't so bad. I make my way slowly to the clothing store and head in right as I see Christina and who I can only assume is Tris checking out with their points. However Tris is nearly unrecognizable. The clothing fit and the makeup obviously put on by Christina do enough to change her features that for the first time she doesn't seem quite so Abnegation. She doesn't seem quite so unremarkable.
It doesn't take long to find another set of clothes that fit both properly and still comfortably. I also stop to pick up some makeup, though not in the same style as Marcus. I can only imagine it all works the same, but here I am allowed to be bold. Here I don't have to hide it. I stop for a moment while trying on the clothes to look at my reflection, but while I watch, every movement at the periphery doesn't look quite right. I see a person who isn't there, someone who can't possibly be there, and the fear that consumes me every time leaves me feeling jittery and yet also drained. I finish and leave as quickly as possible, not wanting to deal with that fear quite yet.
I'm still waiting for the panic and paranoia to leave. How long will it take before I stop seeing phantoms of Marcus going around corners? When will I feel comfortable? I know that he can't possibly get to me here, he can't reach me and yet in the few quiet minutes we've been given I find my heart racing and when I close my eyes I can still feel myself back in the closet. I can still occasionally feel phantom touches and I am unsure that I will ever be able to look Four in the eye without flinching. How can I possibly be brave when I am still afraid to look my instructor in the eye?
I make my way back to the dorm and place my clothes by my bed, but the adrenaline from the store had turned to anger. My skin is still crawling and I can't shake the bitterness that hangs around me that so many people can go about a new life here and yet I came as an escape and yet I still find ways for my old life to creep in. I wander back to the training room and find it predictably empty, but the punching bags are still hanging along the wall. Gritting my teeth, I practice more combinations until I can't feel my aching limbs. And for the first time, I'm grateful to see Marcus's face. I see it sitting square under my fist and some part in the back of my mind questions if there is something twisted and horrible about finding this so justified. But I can't bring myself to care as my fist makes contact with the bag over and over.
I am so deeply sorry about how long it has taken me to update. Turns out that there were very few aspects of life that the various events of 2020 didn't impact. And that isn't to say everything is terribly bad, I am not intending to be overly bleak or sad. But I am simply saying that due to various circumstances, this fic had to take a back-burner of sorts while I focused on other things. And so I am sorry if you all were upset about how long this took. I did not forget, and I want to say that I was grateful for everyone who read this fic in the meantime. I really do appreciate you all, even if you hate the story, if you took the time to read what is out so far, then I am grateful.
In regards to the story, I will reiterate that some things may not line up exactly with the book, and I took some liberties with what might be allowed, such as Kat going and eating in another area. Also, some of the characters may come off as out of character. I had to also take some liberties there to show some of the more… human side(?) of the more villainous characters of the series.
This chapter also was written across several months so I tried to re-read it to ensure that I didn't make too many errors but if there are grammatical and/or continuity errors, I am so sorry! But I hope that you enjoy!