Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

Every once in a while, Jeanine got a crazy idea in the name of science. This was no exception.

The factionless were the largest group of people in the city, and despite what most people thought, they were organized. In the past, there had been multiple riots that confirmed this, and although Dauntless armies had successfully squashed them, the factionless’ attitude against the other factions only grew stronger.

Jeanine has a solution. One factionless person would be allowed to test and choose a faction. If they survived initiation, others would also be allowed to test and choose as well. Jeanine theorized that if factionless were dispersed through the factions, initiation would break them of their factionless mindset and the factionless would no longer be large enough to even think about rioting. The only requirements were that the participating factionless member was born as a factionless, and therefore not preconditioned to a faction.

Evelyn needed a bit of persuading. It was agreed that she could choose which factionless would be the first to test and choose. It was also agreed that a large portion of rations would be dispersed to the factionless. Otherwise, she seemed to be on board, recognizing that she could offer a more comfortable life away from persecution, to the younger factionless.

So it was decided.

——

Treya was not surprised that Evelyn chose her. Evelyn had taken her under her wing when she was young, protecting her from an abusive former Dauntless father and half brother.

Evelyn had taught Treya to defend herself, and with the guidance of Evelyn’s strongest fighters, Treya soon became a fighter herself. In the evenings, the factionless would gather in the old, decrepit tunnels under the city’s center, and take turns fighting one another. It was friendly enough; fighters volunteered, and no one was ever a sore loser. It was also brutal; bare handed fighting left all participants bloody and sometimes broken.

Treya had earned her reputation as a humble and respected fighter. It was a privilege to fight her, even though most would never win. She was a quiet, solitary girl, soon to be nineteen in a few months. Indebted to her savior Evelyn, she was always close by and quick to protect the factionless leader.

When Evelyn’s son, a Dauntless member with his own humble and respected reputation, approached Evelyn with the offer of bringing factionless kids to the choosing ceremony, Treya, the usually quiet and watchful girl who stayed in the shadows, piped up “why would Dauntless want to do anything that would benefit the factionless?”

It was a valid question and Evelyn looked to her son for an answer.

“It’s Jeanine’s idea. She believes that just because many factionless have earned their banishment, the children born without a faction, deserve a fair chance.”

Treya wasn’t going to believe the reasoning for a second, but Evelyn seemed satisfied with it and agreed far too quickly than Treya would have liked.

“I’ll need detailed information about your candidate choices as soon as possible.”

Evenly smiled almost dangerously, “I only have one candidate.”

Mother and son sat for a moment, silently testing each other before Evelyn broke the silence but not the stare “Treya, leave us for a minute.”

Treya tensed, not liking the idea of leaving her leader alone with a faction lover, let alone a Dauntless one, but she obeyed, closing the metal door behind her.

When the man finally opened the door to leave, he gave her a hard look over, which she replied with a hard, warning stare of her own. She watched him go for a moment, a yellowed folder in one hand, then returned to Evelyn’s side.

“Treya, I need you to do this for me.”

Treya stood silently, letting Evelyn stand and place her hands on Treya’s shoulders gently.

“The test tells you what you should choose, but you’re free to make your own decision. You need to choose Abnegation.”

Treya’s brow furrowed.

“I know you know what they did to me and my family, but their initiation is the easiest, and they never banish initiates. You cannot fail there. You cannot fail me.” Evelyn sighed, “this could bring a huge opportunity for a better life. No more starving babies,” her voice trailed off.

Treya didn’t need to respond. What Evelyn said was law to the factionless, and she had laid down the law on this.

——

“She only had one candidate?” Max’s bow furrowed as he leaned forward, pressing his forearms into his desk.

“Yes, Treya Price,” Four stated, laying a yellow folder on Max’s desk. He had filled it out with Evelyn, noting Treya’s history, and any information that seemed important.

Max picked up the folder, flipping it open, “any relation to Thane Price?”

“His daughter,” Four replied.

“I was unaware he had a daughter,” Max’s eyebrows raised, surprised.

Jeanine shifted in her seat, leaning back into it and resting her elbow on its arm, “an illegitimate child with a factionless woman after his banishment.”

Max glanced in her direction then back at the file, “daughter of a Dauntless traitor.” He flipped through the file carelessly, “should we be prepared to expect her in Dauntless?”

“Not likely. If she’s smart, she’ll choose Abnegation. Everyone passes their initiation.” Eric’s response sounded almost bored as he leaned against the back wall of Max’s office, arms crossed over his chest.

Jeanine turned his direction, then back to Max, “if she passes initiation, she becomes a full member of a faction; freedom away from poverty. She’ll choose Abnegation.”

Four shook his head in disagreement, “she’s a factionless fighter, with the reputation of a soldier. She is Evelyn’s right hand, and Evelyn wouldn’t pick someone with Abnegation traits as her right hand.” He let the others mull over his words for a moment before continuing, “her father was Dauntless. It’s in her blood; her nature.”

“The test will tell us her nature,” Jeanine corrected.

“She’s still free to choose,” Four argued.

“Choosing Dauntless would be a stupid move. If she’s a factionless fighter, she listens to Evelyn, and Evelyn isn’t stupid. She’ll tell the girl to go to Abnegation.” Eric argued, rolling his eyes.

Max leaned back in his chair, as the room sat quiet.

——

Bright and sterile and repetitive. The testing room’s lights almost hurt Treya’s eyes as she walked in. The mirrors covering every wall only reflected the bright lights over and over and over.

Treya examined the mirrors, catching glimpses of her reflection repeating in every angle. Her brown hair, cropped midway between her shoulders and chin. Her tattered grey shirt and black pants with a hole ripped in the left knee. The long sleeved faded black coat, and the worn boots that were held together with a hope and a prayer.

The silver chair caught her attention next. Reclined, with wires flowing from the headrest where two metal braces were perched. A small table sat next to the chair, with a small computer sitting on top; wires connected the computer to the chair.

Finally the Dauntless man. The same one who has swayed Evelyn into this idea of sending factionless children into factions and letting them be moulded into faction loving robots.

“My name is Four, and I’ll be administering your test today.”

“I know who you are,” Treya made her way over to the chair and cautiously sat down, resting her head between the two braces.

He attached two electrode pads to her forehead, making her body tense at his touch, before handing her a small glass vial of clear liquid. “Drink.”

Her eyes narrowed, not liking the thought of drinking some unknown substance, but she obliged nonetheless. Her eyes closed.

When they open again, Treya was alone. The man, the chair, the computer and table and all the wires, were gone. Before her were two pedestals. On one was a large knife, it’s blade glistened in the bright lights. On the other pedestal sat a block of pale yellow cheese. Nothing needed to tell Treya what to do. It’s clear she should choose one or the other, but why? She was not hungry, nor was she in danger. There was no reason for either.

A low growl from behind, started soft and built to a snarl as Treya turned around. A large, long haired brown dog crouched only feet from Treya, it’s lips curled up to bare its sharp white teeth.

Treya stared the dog in the eyes, matching it’s hard, warning gaze. Dogs can smell fear, but Treya wasn’t afraid. There is no reason for the dog to attack, so it kept its distance, snarling. Treya’s head tilted as she glared down at the dog. It was a wild animal, and Treya had no reason to fear wild animals. She was one herself; a feral child who survived on instinct and necessity. If anything, she respected the dog, and in turn the dog would respect her.

“Puppy!”

The exclamation caused both Treya and the dog to look up.

A small child, with arms outstretched, smiled at the dog.

It responded with a snarl, and the child’s eyes widen in sudden fear.

Treya let out a high pitched whistle, simultaneously slamming one foot on the floor. The combination of the sound and vibrations startled the dog and child. The dog turned back to Treya with a growl.

Her eyes narrowed in warning and she growled in return; her lip curling to show her own white teeth, but her gaze is on the child.

The child’s eyes widen even more before turning and sprinting away. The dog’s ears lower and it’s tail tucked under its belly before it scampered off. Neither of them enjoying her growl.

A man stood before Treya, in a black suit, with a matching black hat. His hands, scarred with old burns, clutched a newspaper. He forcefully pointed to the front of the paper, to an article featuring a photo of a bearded young man. “Do you know him?” The man sounded angry.

When Treya didn’t respond, he asks again, more forcefully “do you?”

Treya narrowed her eyes. The man in the photo seemed familiar, but this scarred, angry man didn’t need to know. “I don’t know anyone,” she spat.

He took a large step forward, leaning down to be nose to nose with her. The stench of cigarettes filled Treya’s nose as he snarled, making the scars across his face stretch and threaten to rip open. “You’re a liar” he snaps “you know him and you can save me!”

“Back off,” Treya warned, sizing him up, “I said I don’t know anyone.” Her eyes narrowed, and the man finally took a step back before slowly vanishing like smoke.

——

“How is that even possible?” Max seemed just as annoyed as he did confused. “How does she not test into any faction?”

Jeanine thumbed through the test results, “it is certainly interesting.”

Max shakes his head, “are you positive you administered the test correctly? Maybe we should retest her.”

Now Four was the one annoyed, “how many times have I administered an aptitude test? I think I know what I’m doing.”

“She literally tested as factionless? Has that ever happened before?” Eric directs his questions to Jeanine, who was still skimming the results.

“It’s not happened before, but then again, we’ve never tested a factionless born before.” She doesn’t bother to look up.

“Is it possible she’s divergent?” Max offers, trying to make sense of it all.

Four shakes his head, “no, a divergent tests into too many factions. She didn’t test into any.”

Eric steps behind Jeanine, reading the results over her shoulder, “she reacts on a survival instinct. She didn’t choose the knife or cheese because she had no reason for either. She didn’t fear the dog, and so it brought on no reaction. When the dog attacked the child, she didn’t protect the child, and when asked if she knew the man in the photograph, she lied to save herself.”

“Factionless certainly have a survival instinct,” Four agrees, almost sarcastically. He looked to Jeanine, “so what does this tell you about her nature?”

Jeanine looked up from the results, “it tells me that we shouldn’t underestimate her.”

——

Treya handed him the can, then the spoon. “I don’t like not knowing their motive. Why would Dauntless help factionless? Since the downfall of Evelyn’s takeover, they’ve been quick to confront us.”

“Trigger happy faction lovers,” Edgar manages between bites.

Treya pulls her knees to her chest, “they’ve made it clear they aren’t an ally.”

“To be fair,” Edgar took a moment to chew before continuing, “we did pretty much double cross them during the uprising.”

“It was necessary, but I get it. But why lie? Why pretend this has anything to do with our wellbeing?”

“So don’t go,” he chews.

“Evelyn wants me to.”

“So go.”

Treya rolls her eyes, “you’re not helpful.”

He shruged and Treya took a moment to look him over. His grey eyes, shaved head and soft nose. His pale pink lips curled as he chewed around a bothersome tooth. Despite his sunken cheeks, which was a typical feature of all factionless, he was handsome; a stark contrast from the dilapidated abandoned building they had decided to crash in.

He glanced up at her, his eyes lighting up to see her watching him. He slurped the remaining bit of beans from the spoon, and gave her a flirtatious smirk.

Treya rolled her eyes again, giving him a gentle shove with her shoulder.

His smile grew as she grabbed for the spoon. Usually he would hold it just out of reach and tease her with it, but he let her have it this time, watching her slide it into her pocket.

“You and your spoon,” he teased.

“It is the perfect size. Not too fat like those spoons the Abnegation gave us, and not too small like the ones Erudite throw away.”

Edgar rolled his eyes playfully, laying back on his elbows on the floor. “It’s just a spoon.”

“It’s my spoon.”

Edgar shrugged, dismissing her trivial spoon, “so what are you going to do?”

“What would you do?”

Edgar took a deep breath, mauling over his answer before responding, “I’m not a factionless born, Treya. I’m a Dauntless reject. I guess I’m partial to the faction structure. It’s easier to belong to a faction than to not. But I’m happy here. Life may not be easy and posh like it is for faction lovers, but I’m happier here than I ever was in Dauntless.”

Treya hugged her knees closer to her chest, “why Dauntless?”

Edgar let out a huff, “I’m a fighter with a temper. Where else would I go?”

The two sat quietly for a moment before Edgar glanced back up at Treya, seeing her staring solemnly into the distance. He reached up and tugged at her shirt, pulling her down to the floor next to him.

Treya curled up silently, her back to his side, his arm snaked under her head. “That Dauntless guy doesn’t think I’ll make it.

“So prove him wrong.”

“What if I’m too factionless to be in a faction?”

Edgar rolled to his side, his free arm draped lazily over Treya’s smaller frame, his forehead pressed to the back of her head, “the factions are too factioned for anyone to fit into.”

Treya mauled over his response, long enough to hear his breathing deepen as he drifted into sleep.

——

Evelyn wasn’t allowed in the Hub. She wanted to stay and wait for the ceremony to end, to see Treya one more time, but Treya insisted she not. After the ceremony, she wouldn’t be a factionless anymore, she’d be an initiate to whatever faction she chose.

The Hub was the center for the city’s government. It was never a place Treya wanted to be, as it stood for everything she disagreed with. This was the source of her suffering as a factionless, and it’s blocky pillar-like existence served as nothing more than another shadow on her and her fellow factionless; it’s two black prongs like the horns of a devil. Not far off, in Treya’s opinion.

As she climbed the stairs, following a wave of grey cloaked Abnegation, Treya’s mind wandered to the choosing ceremony and her approaching decision.

A divergent would question why a person cannot be part of each faction; kind, selfless, truthful, brave and smart. But Treya knew the factions better than their positive facades. As an outsider, she had an unbiased opinion of them all. The kind were selfish. The selfless were stifling. The truthful lack empathy. The brave were cruel. The smart were vain.

Who would want to be a part of that?

Evelyn had told Treya to choose Abnegation because they never turn away an initiate. It would be the smart choice. But would it prove anything? This whole agreement was that if Treya could pass initiation, factionless children would be allowed to participate in the choosing ceremony and have a better life. Abnegation initiation would be the easy way out. It wouldn’t prove that the factionless were capable of anything. Would they be deemed worthy of a better life if they take the easy way out?

Treya grimaced at the thought. Why did she have to prove that she was worthy of a life outside of poverty? This had nothing to do with who was deserving and who wasn’t. No, there had to be an ulterior motive to this agreement. One that benefitted Dauntless, and Jeanine.

Since the uprising, Jeanine had come to terms with the concept that the divergent were not a threat to her governing system, because they were preconditioned to the factions they were raised in, and those they later chose. By choosing a faction, they were accepting conformity. The new threat was the factionless, with their ideals of anti faction systems. They chose not to conform; a fact made clear by the uprising. To any party trying to control the governing system, the factionless were the threat.

Was this now a ploy to conform the nonconforming? Probably. Most likely.

What would Dauntless get out of it? The chance to get back in Jeanine’s good graces, and if you’re in her good graces, you may get some say in her decisions. You at least became a bug in her ear, and you weren’t on her hit list.

Dauntless was the most corrupt. That was made obvious the way the faction split in two during the uprising. It was a war on morals between the two halves, which gave the factionless the chance to double cross them. But that was a different matter.

Dauntless were cruel. Treya had heard enough stories about Dauntless training and initiation. And she had seen the trigger happy soldiers attack the factionless with little to no reason, quite frequently. They were cold, sadistic, adrenaline junkies, and bullying around the factionless gave them the jump they craved.

It would be ironic if a factionless girl passed their initiation.

Twenty floors up, Treya followed the sea of grey into a great round room. A circular stage sat to one side, and five separate sections of cushioned seats, fanned from the edge of the stage. People were already filing down the rows of seats, and it was obvious that each section was for a specific faction. The farthest section was filling with the grey sea of Abnegation, their heads bowed and cheeks flushed as they caught their breath from climbing the stairs. Next to them were brightly clothed smiles, draped in reds and yellows. Amnity. Then it was Erudite, in their blue suits and judging eyes that peered through glasses with no prescription. Candor sat next to them. Their black and white suit jackets starched, and their faces just as stiff. Then the loud black and maroon hoard of Dauntless.

“Treya Price.”

Treya turned to face a blond, middle aged Erudite woman, balancing a notepad and folder on one hip. This must be Jeanine.

“I’m Jeanine Matthews, I don’t believe we’ve met.”

Treya looked the woman over, but gave no response.

Jeanine motioned toward the far side of the stage, where a lone metal chair had been placed on the far side of the Abnegation section. “I’ve had a chair set for you.”

Treya glanced at the chair, then back to Jeanine. Her eyes narrowed slightly, but she nodded her head and made her way to the chair.

The ceremony wasn’t anything special. A Candor man made a speech about being true to oneself in their decision to choose a faction, and the importance of being honest about who you are. It was all very Candor.

He was then replaced with an Abnegation man, who’s beard was such the same shade of grey as his attire, that it looked almost as if he’d hung the neck of his shirt around his ears. He called the names of those who were choosing.

Some decisions caused the crowd to gasp in shock, or roar in excitement, but every candidate received an applaud for their decision.

The candidates this year were older than normal. In the past, children chose at age sixteen. After the uprising, it took time to rebuild and reestablish the factions, so most of the candidates were seventeen and eighteen. To Treya, it made more sense. Why ask a child who they are when they are still growing and changing?

“Treya Price,” the man finally called.

She was the last candidate, called out of the typical alphabetical order, as if she was an afterthought and her name was hand written on the bottom of the roster.

There were murmurs from the crowd. It must not have been public knowledge that there was a last minute add on.

Treya stood and made her way to the stage. More murmurs hummed though the crowd. It probably wasn’t public knowledge that a factionless girl was attending the ceremony today.

Before her were five concrete bowls, each engraved with the symbol of a faction. In Abnegation’s bowl were smooth, grey stones. Plain and grey and stiff. Seemed about right. In Amnity’s bowl was rich brown dirt. They were farmers, and took pride in every harvest. It fit. Clear water sat motionless in the Erudite bowl. They strive to have a clear mind, open to changing opinions based on facts. Just as water changes shape depending on its container. Shards of broken glass sat in Candor’s bowl. There is no smoke or tint to hide under in Candor. Their truth is always crystal clear. In the Dauntless bowl, hot coals, tinted red with heat, were still smoldering. How very Dauntless.

It was all so...symbolic. Faction lovers and their symbols. They were as in love with their symbols as Treya was with her spoon. At least a spoon served a useful purpose.

Treya wondered what would be in a factionless bowl. Nothing. Probably nothing, as that is what the faction lovers believed the factionless were; empty and without meaning.

Treya rolled her eyes.

She picked up the small knife that sat in front of the bowls. She had drowned out the murmuring behind her, but she couldn’t drown out her thoughts.

The knife’s blade was sharp, and it didn’t take much pressure before a bead of red bubbled up on her palm. By dripping her blood into a bowl, she was accepting conformity. Faction before blood, is how the saying goes, and right from the start, candidates go into a faction by giving it their blood. More symbolism.

What did Treya want? Honestly at this point she was sick of it and ready to fling her blood on the bearded man and demand to go back to the factionless. It was too late for that. Evelyn was counting on her. Jeanine was judging her.

Abnegation. The easy way out.

Treya sighed and rolled her eyes, annoyed with herself. She knew she would never take the easy way out. She knew from the moment Evelyn told her to choose Abnegation, that she wouldn’t.

“The hell am I getting myself into,” she mumbled as the bead of blood finally fell and sizzled on the hot coals.

There was no applause. There were a few gasps, a few more murmurs. Then a roar, starting low and quickly building as the Dauntless welcomed another initiate.

Treya stepped off the stage, and to the hoard of black and maroon.

The factions were standing, making their way to the stairs and elevators.

Wedged into the hoard, Treya followed the Dauntless down the stairs, having no problem keeping up.

Chapter Text

Climbing the metal poles that held the platform was easy. Jumping onto the train was easy. Treya had been jumping trains all her life. The trains were the easiest way to quickly move about the city, and was the preferred transportation method by the Dauntless.

The train was run by the factionless, like all the low level and unwanted jobs in the city. Trash pick up, sanitation, transportation, and similar jobs were all left to the factionless. But unlike faction jobs, these jobs paid in clothes and food.

As the train clacked quickly through the city, to the outskirts, Treya leaned out the open door, the wind whipping her short brown hair behind her.

“Get ready,” a raspy voice echoed through the train car, followed by murmurs from the initiates as they wondered what was next.

A large body wizzed past Treya and jumped from the car, over the gap between the train and the passing building, and onto its gravel covered roof. A second Dauntless member jumped.

Treya watched them land, then quickly backed into the car, gave herself a running start, and jumped.

Gravel scritched under her worn out boots as she landed, bending down to her knees to take the shock of her landing up further than her ankles.

She stood and quickly moved out of the way as more initiates began to land behind her. Turning to her left, the two Dauntless members who had jumped before her were making their way to a third, who was balanced precariously on the edge of the roof.

She followed, and soon the other initiates were making their way to the Dauntless members.

“Listen up,” the balancing Dauntless shouted, his voice deep and laced with subtle malice. He paced the edge of the roof, his black boots quiet as he stepped. In typical Dauntless fashion, he was dressed in all black; black cargo pants that loosely hugged his muscular legs, a long sleeve leather jacket that buttoned up the front, showing the top of a black shirt underneath. Two blocky stripped tattoos ran up his throat, stopping under the strong line of his jaw. Hard grey eyes sat atop a long, slender nose, and above his right eye were two piercings, sitting like small dots just above his eyebrow. His hair, long and sleeked back on top, with the sides of his head shaved, accentuated his strong, hard features. Add a large, dark black piercing to each earlobe, and he just oozed Dauntless stereotype.

“I’m Eric,” his voice boomed, “I’m one of your leaders. If you want to enter Dauntless, this is the way in.”

Treya glanced from him to the edge of the roof. Another jump no doubt. So far being Dauntless meant a lot of jumping; on trains, off trains, off buildings. Treya could see why all this would intimidate new transferred initiates. They weren’t use to the fearlessness of being Dauntless. But why would a faction ask something dangerous of its initiates, without having some level of precaution. The goal was to train new initiates, not kill them within their first few hours. There had to be something at the bottom to break their fall. A net, water, cushion maybe. They were being asked to face a common fear, the fear of falling from exceptional heights. A Dauntless would do it without hesitation.

“If you don’t have the guts to jump, then you...”

Treya didn’t bother to wait. She ran for the edge, her foot finding it, and launched herself over. She didn’t think twice about the enraged look the Dauntless man gave her as he jumped out of her way. All she thought about now was going down, free falling down through a ominous black hole in the roof of the short building below her. Then the burn of a net across her skin as it caught her, launching her back up a few feet before she came down again. Her body slowly came to rest on the net and she glanced to both sides, her breathing quick with adrenaline.

To one side was a group of Dauntless members, all clearly surprised to see her.

She rolled their direction and a strong tanned hand grabbed the edge of the net, holding it steady. She looked up from the hand and into familiar eyes. Evelyn’s son.

Her eyes narrowed and her breathing regulated as she grabbed the edge of the net firmly in both hands, and flipped herself headfirst, over the edge and to the cement floor below.

The man let go of the net, “It’s Treya, right?”

Treya nodded, glancing his direction.

“First jumper, Treya,” he called out to the other Dauntless as another initiate came screaming from above.

Treya moved off to the shadows of the dimly lit room, waiting patiently as initiates fell through the ceiling; some crying, most screaming, a few quiet.

When each initiate had finally rolled off the net, the tanned Dauntless man stood before them. He wore similar Dauntless attire as the one from the roof; black cargo pants, long sleeved jacket, boots. His brown hair was short, trimmed in Abnegation fashion, but his body language was all Dauntless. He stood tall, shoulders back, head up, arms crossed over his chest. His thin lips were set in a hard line, his distinguished jawline added a hard shadow across his neck, and his furrowed brow gave him a hard, authoritative gaze.

A short, but muscular Dauntless woman stood at his side. Her dark brown hair was twisted into thick dreadlocks, and the dark makeup she smeared around her eyes gave her a haunting look that only clashed with her small nose and mouth. She smirked, chewing a piece of gum as the two of them looked over the group of initiates.

“Dauntless born go with Lauren, transfers stay with me,” the man nodded towards the dread headed girl.

Initiates quickly hustled to follow the girl to the other side of the room and out a door. When all that remained were transferred initiates and Evelyn’s son, he continued, “I usually work in intelligence, but for the next sixteen weeks, I’ll be your trainer. My name’s Four.”

The sound of shoes scuffing the floor was the only response he received. Since the uprising, he and his girlfriend were pretty well known around the factions. They both played a huge part in both Evelyn’s rise to power and her downfall. And he was her son. Prior to the uprising, he was a Dauntless legend; graduating at the top of his initiate class, turning down a promotion to Dauntless leadership, and only ever having four fears in the Dauntless fear simulation.

Being made up of mostly former Dauntless, the factionless had whispered his name and legend a few times over.

“This year, with initiates being older, training will be more difficult. You’re capable of handling more, so we’re going to give it to you. During the first stage of training, we will be pushing your bodies to the breaking point. During the second stage, you will be pushed mentally. Again, breaking point. Any questions?”

Again, nothing but shoe scuffs.

“Good. Follow me.”

——

Four led them through the Dauntless compound. There were multiple training rooms, one designated for shooting practice, another for knife throwing. The others were multifunctional, having a center floor mat for hand to hand fighting, with punching bags along the perimeter. The largest training room was left for initiate training. Multiple floor mats were set up, a whole wall of punching bags, weights and weight training equipment in one corner, and empty floor space in another.

“This is the pit, and the center of life here at Dauntless,” Four announced as they gathered in the last wide, cavernous room.

The roar of rushing water filled the room and Treya’s eyes followed it to the far side, where a large underground waterfall sprayed up, soaking the pathetic excuse for a railing at the edge of the cement floor.

“Don’t get any stupid ideas. You jump of the edge, you die. No one is that invincible” Four announced.

Treya’s eyes wandered around the pit, taking in the narrow steps along the walls edges, leading from tattoo shop to clothing shop, to weapon shop, and on to more similar shops. She looked up, surprised to find sunlight gleaming through a glass ceiling.

“Above is where leadership works and stays. You won’t need to worry about anything up there.”

Four led them out of the pit and down a dark secluded hallway. After two more dimly lit hallways, and a flight of stairs, Four led them into a large barrack room, lined with small beds, each having one pillow and matching grey blanket.

“This is where you’ll be staying for the next sixteen weeks.”

“Boys or girls?” an Erudite transfer asked from behind Treya.

“Both,” Four responded, receiving a few grumbles and snickers, as he led the group to the bathroom.

The bathroom had a wall of shower heads on one side, and a row of toilets on another. There were no stalls or partitions between any of them, in the middle were two trough sinks, back to back with each other.

“Are you kidding?” Another initiate grumbled.

“Here at Dauntless we work as a team. You’ll learn to do that by living as a team,” Four explained. He pointed back to the barracks where a cart with Dauntless issued uniforms were folded. “Get changed and head down to the mess hall for dinner.”

——

“I thought you said she wouldn’t choose Dauntless?” Max wasn’t too happy with the results of the choosing ceremony.

“I said if she was smart, she wouldn’t choose Dauntless. I never said she was smart.” Eric flipped a page in the folder, continuing to read.

“I’d like detailed reports on her training,” Jeanine seemed unfazed by the results, “the goal is to have her succeed. If she does, then it proves that the factionless can be conformed, and therefore controlled.”

Max nodded, listening.

“One girl’s results isn’t going to prove anything. You have one compliant. There are thousands of factionless.” Four wasn’t so sure any of this was going to work. He had spent a substantial amount of time around the factionless during the uprising. Not to mention he had a direct relationship to their leader; being her son and all.

“I have one compliant with an outstanding reputation among the factionless,” Jeanine gave Four a stern look, before turning back to Max. “Might I suggest Eric take lead on her training.” It wasn’t a question, nor a suggestion.

“She’s a transfer, therefore she’s part of my group,” Four protested.

“Aw, not looking forward to working together? Partner?” Eric mocked, smirking at Four.

“I agree with Jeanine,” Max interrupted the two’s stare off, “Eric, you will lead Treya Price’s training. This will ensure that she not only undergoes the strictest Dauntless training, but also that there is no favoritism shown. Give Jeanine weekly updates on her progress.”

“Favoritism?” Four nearly cut Max off.

Max turned his gaze to Four, his eyes hardening.

“You are Evelyn’s son, and she is Evelyn’s pet,” Jeanine offered, “one could see where favoritism could be a concern.”

Four’s jaw clenched. He didn’t need Eric around during training. It would only cause tension between the initiates and between he and Four. They never got along, and they weren’t about to start. But Max was consistently up Jeanine’s ass, so he wasn’t too surprised he sided with her decisions and took her word as gold.

——

The mess hall was loud, and full. A Dauntless hoard, larger than Treya had ever seen at a given time, filled the hall. Dauntless members were lined on the far side, with trays of food as they served themselves buffet style.

Treya followed the other transfer initiates into the line. There were three Erudite boys, snickering with one another, followed by a Candor girl, a set of twin Candor boys, and a third Candor boy. Finally an Aminty girl, looking completely terrified.

The food was in mass supply, obviously necessary for so many hungry Dauntless. If seeing so many Dauntless in one place was surprising to Treya, then the mountains of food were even more shocking.

As factionless, Treya was used to sharing a can of beans with up to four or five people; each taking a spoonful at a time. And meals only came once a day. Every once in a while, Edgar would steal food from the Amnity fields, or from a train haul, but it wasn’t often since the uprising.

Treya opted for an apple and a slice of bread. Having survived off very little all her life, she wasn’t sure her stomach could handle much more than that, let alone the rich and heavy Dauntless foods.

She looked around the hall before sliding into a seat on the bench opposite Four.

He glanced up at her, then did a double take at her food. “Not a fan of Dauntless food?”

Treya took a bite of her bread before setting it back down. It was heavy bread, and thick. She chewed silently.

“It’ll grow on you.”

A large muscular form stopped at the edge of the table, and Treya glanced up at the man from the roof, Eric, swallowing her mouthful.

“Impressive jump today,” his voice was unamused, one eyebrow arched, pulling at the piercings there.

When Treya didn’t respond he noted, “not much protein in there,” his head nodded toward her plate.

Treya’s eyes caught Four’s as he studied her, waiting for her answer, “its enough.”

A loud clang rang through the hall, and the room quieted as Max leaned over the railing from the balcony above them.

“Initiates,” his voice boomed, echoing through the hall, “here at Dauntless, we believe that cowardice is to blame for injustice. We believe that peace is hard-won and that sometimes it is necessary to fight for peace. By choosing Dauntless, you are choosing freedom from fear; freedom from the influence of fear in your decisions. By choosing Dauntless, you are choosing bravery; courage to face your fears and stand up for one another. You are choosing to be bold in your actions; not to act with an empty head or empty hands, without concern for comfort, good manners, or death. You have chosen the warrior faction.”

The room was silent.

“Be brave, initiates. Do us proud.”

At once the Dauntless were on their feet, cheering and clapping the new initiates on the back.

Treya slipped her apple into her pocket before sliding from the bench and slipping through the hoard and out of the hall.

The Dauntless were really trying to regain control and reputation among the factions. The uprising had split them and damaged their reputation drastically, but they seemed on the upswing; embracing their original manifesto, trying to rid the sour taste they put in the mouths of the other factions. Treya wondered how long they could keep it up.

Apparently the pit is pretty quiet during mealtime. She leaned against the railing, overlooking the chasm. The water mist splashed her boots and the sleeves of her Dauntless-issued training jacket.

“You’re not going to jump, are you?”

Treya turned to see Four casually walking towards her. He leaned against the railing to her right, waiting for her answer.

“It would be pretty Dauntless to jump.”

Four raised an eyebrow, “depends on your reasons.”

Treya huffed, “Evelyn ask you to keep an eye on me?”

Four turned, leaning back against the railing, “no, quite the opposite. Told me to stay away from you.”

Treya’s eyes narrowed a moment as she pondered his response, then let out a huff again with a slight smile when he added, “said you’d kick my ass.”

The two stood quietly for a minute, Treya looking over the ledge and Four looking away, each lost in thought. Four finally sighed and cautioned, just above a whisper “just be careful here. A lot of Dauntless are still bitter about what happened.”

Treya’s eyes narrowed, and she gave him a dark look. “I thought you were supposed to stay away from me.”

“I’m just trying to warn you to watch your back here. A lot of people wouldn’t be sad if you were found at the bottom of the chasm.”

Treya pushed herself from the railing, giving him a stern look, “I’d like to see them try.” When he tried to retort, she cut him off before he could get a word in, “let’s get one thing straight. Just because you have blood in factionless, doesn’t make us similar. I don’t need your help and certainly not your protection. Unless you are critiquing my training, leave me alone.”

She gave him another warning look before turning to leave, but he reached out, catching her by the wrist. Instinctively she twisted her wrist in his hand, breaking his grasp on her. The punch from her free hand caught him off guard as it collided with his chin. It knocked him off balance and he stumbled back a step, surprise filling his face.

Most initiates would fear fighting their trainer, but she initiated it. On her first day. Four watched as she stormed away, gently rubbing his chin where he was sure a bruise would form.

——

Treya was already awake and dressed when Four clanged a small metal baton on the metal bed frame. The other initiates woke with a jolt.

“Get dressed. Training starts in five.” He gave Treya a quick glance before turning and leaving the barracks.

Treya slid from her bed and followed silently.

When all nine transfer initiates had finally gathered around in the training room, Four paired them up; the small Amnity girl with fiery red hair, Jessica, and the slightly taller but quicker Candor girl, Alex. The twin Candor boys, Logan and Oliver, who were equally matched in all ways including looks. Two Erudite boys, Michael, tall and arrogant, with his hair spiked up away from his smirking face, and his just as arrogant friend Nick. Then the last Erudite boy, Stephen, who was a little disgruntled with being paired with Benny, the joking, easygoing Candor.

Four stood in front of Treya, speaking to the rest of the class, but keeping his eyes on Treya, “first rule in fighting, protect your head.” He held his arms up, crossing them one over the other, elbows in front of his face. Treya mirrored his movements. “When your opponent attacks,” he slowly demonstrated a punch to Treya, “block with your elbow.”

She blocked, clonking her elbow to his hand a little harder than necessary. He gave her a sour look.

“I want you to practice blocking with your elbows and forearms.” He demonstrated with Logan a few times before letting the pairs practice on their own, then leads Treya to a punching bag, “you can practice on the bag, that way you’re not going to hurt someone on a basic blocking exercise.” He seemed annoyed.

“Four,” Eric growled in his usual annoyed tone, and the two moved off to one side to watch the practice. “She bust your knuckles?”

Four looked down at his hand. Sure enough, one of his knuckles had split from her block.

“She rough up your face too?” Eric cocked an eyebrow, noting the bruise on Four’s chin.

“She’s touchy,” he shook his head.

Eric smirked, “you touching initiates again Four? Is that your thing?” Eric’s eyes darkened as he mocked Four.

Four ignored him. “She’s a loose cannon. Easily set off.”

Eric’s gaze shifted to Treya on the far side of the room. Her blocks were hard, purposeful. She didn’t hold back. “She’s a fighter. Isn’t that what you called her in Max’s office?” He studied her movements.

Four watched her as well. Her body was tense, and she used her weight in her blocks, twisting at her waist, her hands loose, open as she blocked with her forearms.

Eric glanced around at the other initiates. It was obvious they were new to fighting. They didn’t know how to twist their weight, stay on their toes, and anticipate moves. Michael, the Erudite transfer, looked like he had been in a fight or two, and was quick to catch on, but the only one showing real promise was the factionless girl. It was obvious she knew what she was doing.

In a few large strides, he was behind her.

She heard him come up behind her, and quickly turned to face him. He was quick to throw a punch, which she blocked with her elbow. He punched again, and she slid to the side, blocking with her forearm and sliding just inside his his arm. She gave a jab to his stomach. When she tried to give him another jab, his left hand swooped down and pushed her arm away, knocking her into his right arm, where he caught her by the throat in its crook. His grip around her throat tightened as she thrashed. He was much stronger, and a whole head taller than her, and he knew how to use that to his advantage. She wiggled her hands up the sides of her neck, under his arm as she twisted and pushed her head down, putting the crook of his arm at her mouth to relieve the pressure from her throat.

The muscles in his arm were tense, but he allowed her to shift in his arms. His left hand reached up and he tangled his fingers in her hair. He smirked. She was good, definitely knew what she was doing. She thrashed again, but his grip only tightened.

The other initiates had taken notice of the struggle, and were watching with curious eyes. Four had given up trying to keep them focused, and was watching the pair with arms crossed.

Eric shifted, pulling Treya away from the punching bag, and then turned her sideways so the other initiates could see. He lowered his head, his mouth at her ear as he whispered an amused “What are you going to do now initiate?”

Treya gave a hard stomp to the top of his foot. He growled, but his boot took most of the shock. His mouth was at her ear again, “I’m going to tell you how you’re going to get out of this, so listen carefully.” Her body was tense, but she was listening. “You’re going to move your hands from my arm, and you’re going to reach over your head to my collar.”

Her body went rigid. If she moved her hands, he could crush her throat in his muscular arm.

“Move your right foot back, between mine and lower your stance.” That part she could obey without fear of suffocating. “Good,” his hand left her hair and found her hip bone instead. “When you grab me, you’re going to push your hips back,” he grabbed at her hip hard, pulling her back against him. “It’ll knock me off balance, and you’ll be able to flip me over your head.”

Treya thought fast, his fingers pushed hard into the curve of her hip. He was expecting her to do as she was told. So she wouldn’t. She slid her hands free, but instead of reaching up for him, she shoved the palms of her hands into his arm, simultaneously twisting her head and pulling it down, slipping free from his grasp. She slid out from under him, and quickly stepped away. Her eyes were dark and threatening, her breathing quick now that she could actually breathe. Her hands flew up in front of her face as she prepared for his advance.

His advance never came. A smirk flashed across his face as he gave her a cold, hungry stare. “Or don’t,” he growled. He turned away from her and stopped, “what are you looking at? Get back to work!” He growled angrily at the gawking initiates before glancing back at Treya, “back to the bag initiate.” He nodded in her direction before making his way back to Four.

“She’s going to need her training advanced,” Eric sneered.

Four shook his head, “basics first.”

Chapter Text

“Treya,” Eric’s voice stopped her mid punch, and she reached out to grab the punching bag to stop it’s sway. Her head snapped in his direction. “With me,” he motioned her to him with two fingers.

Treya glanced at Four, who gave her a slight nod, before correcting an initiate on their stance. She made her way to the wall where she had left her shoes, and slipped them on before following Eric out of the training room.

She watched him cautiously, a step behind him to keep him in full view. He stopped at another training room, one Treya recognized as the target room for gun practice. He held the door open for her, and slid in behind her.

“This way,” he lead her to a table with multiple different guns placed on top, in a row. He took his place on the opposite side of the table from her, a human shaped target looked over his shoulder from the other side of the large room. “Ever use any of these before?”

She glanced across the guns, nodding when her eyes landed on a familiar one.

“Which?”

“The rifle,” Treya’s voice was quiet.

Eric nodded, a smile flicking across his face, “ready your weapon initiate.”

It took a fraction of a second for Treya to understand what he was asking of her, and she quickly picked up the rifle and slid the already loaded magazine into place, hearing it click. She pulled back the rod and released it. She flicked the safety off and pressed the butt of the gun to her shoulder, and her freehand steadied the barrel. Her finger lightly resting next to the trigger as she aimed just over Eric’s shoulder at the far target.

She saw him smirk out of the corner of her eye. “At ease initiate.”

She clicked the safety back on, and lowered the rifle. His hands were outstretched for the gun and she handed it to him gently.

He examined the guy, the smirk never fading from his face. When satisfied she had correctly prepared the gun, he handed it back to her and came around the table to her side. He nodded to the target, and Treya raised the gun, flicked off the safety and quickly fired three shots. Each shot was a center shot to the forehead of the target. Kill shots.

Eric nodded in approval, and Treya flicked the safety back on and set the gun back down on the table. “Your weapon of choice?” Eric asked, moving back across the table from Treya.

“Easiest to come across,” Treya mumbled. The rifles were the typical Dauntless-issued weapon to all initiates, and were available at mass supply in the Dauntless compound. Their popularity made it easy for a few to slip out of the compound and find their way into factionless hands.

Eric nodded and stepped in front of a small revolver. “Six round, semi automatic revolver,” he stated matter-of-factly. “Fires from the bottom chamber, rather than the top. Recoil will be mostly in your hand, so it’s easy to handle.” He readied the gun quickly as Treya watched, then handed it to her to examine.

She looked it over, then offered it back to him. He disassembled it and nodded to her. She reassembled it quickly, leaving the safety latched.

Eric moved to the next one, “another six round revolver. Not semi automatic, but it also has a low recoil.” Again he assembled it and handed it to her to examine before disassembling and letting her try.

“Submachine gun,” Eric continued, stepping in front of a large, peculiarly shaped gun. “Magazine fed, designed to fire pistol cartridges. The delayed blowback system helps reduce recoil.” He assembled the gun and handed it to her, “we have multiple versions of this, but they’re all about the same.” He took the gun back and disassembled it.

Treya quickly reassembled the gun, and laid it back down.

Eric continued this process with two more guns, a pistol and a fully automatic machine gun. “You’re a quick learner,” he smirked as Treya finished assembling the machine gun.

She stepped back from the table, her eyes on the guns.

Eric motioned her to him.

She stepped around the table to him, and he handed her the loaded semi automatic revolver, turning her to face the targets on the far side of the room. He shoved his foot between hers and kicked her legs apart.

“Shoulder width,” his mouth was at her ear, and he was uncomfortably close. He wrapped his arms around her, pulling the gun up to aim at the target, and pressing his chest to her back. Her hands were small in his, and his covered her’s easily.

She turned her attention to the target, trying to ignore his body against her’s; his hips squarely pressed against her and twisting as he forced her to adjust her stance.

He kept himself there as she fired. Then picked up another gun, and had her empty it into the target. He stayed pressed to her, adjusting her stance and grip on each gun until they were all empty.

When she set the last gun down on the table, he finally peeled himself away from her, almost reluctantly. Her back became cold as pulled away, and she twisted her neck more to hide her flushed cheeks than to stretch her muscles.

“Impressive,” he mumbled, his smirk only growing at her discomfort. “You can return to the training room now.”

She swallowed, trying to hide her embarrassment before turning and quickly leaving the target room.

When the door clicked behind her, Eric pulled his tablet from his back pocket and quickly noted her file with his observations. Usually initiates don’t touch a gun until midway through the first stage of training, but with Treya being so advanced, Eric was curious how far her knowledge reached.

It was impressive that she only needed to see him assemble each gun once, before being able to mimic the process herself. Her aim was impressive as well, and although she wasn’t dead center on every shot, it would only improve as she became more familiar with each gun. When it was time for the other initiates to start with their rifles, Eric knew he could start Treya on a more advanced gun.

He smirked, remembering the hint of red in her cheeks. She wasn’t used to human touch, which wasn’t surprising. But it prided him to know he had found a vulnerable spot in such a hard exterior. She would be harder to break than most, as she didn’t respond to him the way most did. She didn’t cower and squirm under his gaze. She didn’t fear him, which only made her harder to control. She was a challenge he was excited to conquer.

——

After the first couple of days, it was apparent that Treya’s skills by far surpassed her fellow initiates. In fact, she surpassed the Dauntless born initiates. Eric had showed them the leaderboard. They were graded every day. Points were given for winning fights, bravery, and general improvement. Treya sat in the first place spot, with the number two initiate nowhere close.

Eric had taken a special interest in her. He upped her training. He worked with her in the shooting practice room every morning, then they would move to the fighting practice room and he would teach her more advanced combat moves, which she learned quickly. Her consistent improvement only fueled the dark, hungry look he gave her.

Soon Treya found herself mainly working with Eric, and less often with Four and the other initiates. In combat, Eric’s sheer strength and size gave him an advantage. But Treya’s speed and quick thinking made her almost evenly matched. They fought in the early hours, finishing just as Four and the other initiates began to trickle into the training room. Treya would grab a quick drink of water before training with Four and the others. Four usually dismissed her early, fearing she would over exhaust herself from double training. She objected the first few times, but quickly realized it allowed her to get to the mess hall for lunch before the majority of the Dauntless hoard. She could eat in peace this way, without as many judgmental eyes on the lack of food she put on her plate.

“You’re underweight. You need to eat.”

“I eat when I’m hungry.”

Eric growled, pushing the plate closer to her, “eat the chicken. You need protein.” He had caught on to her early lunch routine, and adjusted his own schedule to ensure she actually ate.

Treya looked down at the plate in disgust. The large hunk of chicken, the thick mashed potatoes and rich gravy, and the grossly large pile of green peas, filled her plate. She had eaten the bread. Dauntless bread is thick and heavy, just like Dauntless members. Treya was still not used to the large proportions the Dauntless scarfed like wild animals.

Unhappy, but obliging slightly, Treya poked at the golden brown skin of the chicken with her fork.

Eric watched for a moment, a slightly amused smirk crossed his face before he reached across the table, hooking his own fork on the lip of her plate, and pulled it towards him. He swiftly and effortlessly sliced through the chicken with his knife, cutting half of it into bite sized bits, before pushing the plate back to her.

He recognized quickly that despite being so advanced in fighting and the typical Dauntless skills that he painstakingly had to teach initiates, where Treya’s skills lacked were in the day to day activities. Factionless, being so poverty stricken, did not have basic luxuries like knives and forks, or even a hairbrush. Eric had noticed Treya’s short hair was pretty tangled when she first transferred in; it seemed to have tamed down a bit.

Eric also recognized how fearless she was. Especially of him. Where he usually intimidated initiates, and left them scampering away like cowardly dogs, Treya was not intimidated at all. Most would cower under his dark glares, but she only matched his, feeding it right back to him. It made mocking her, something he frequently did to make new initiates uncomfortable, a little more interesting.

“Leave it to the factionless to not know how to use a knife,” he mocked with a smirk.

She gave him a glare, “you want to test that theory at practice tonight?”

He huffed, still smirking at her. “Eat your chicken.”

Treya made a sour face, but forced herself to swallow three bites of chicken before pushing the plate back again.

Eric sighed and rolled his eyes, but took his plate and stood. Treya followed suit with her own. When they had discarded their dishes in the bucket atop the trash can, they made their way back to the training room.

“Why don’t you stretch while we wait for the others.”

Happy to oblige this request, Treya was quick to stretch her arms and shoulders. She attempted to stretch her legs, but struggled to find a stretch suitable.

“Here,” Eric led her to the nearby wall, “back against the wall.”

She obeyed, and he stood before her, stretching his right leg back, and lowering himself into a deep stance, knees bent. He tapped her right leg, “up.” She lifted her leg and he took her by the ankle, placing it on his shoulder, one hand on her ankle, the other on her knee, to keep it straight. Slowly, he lifted, raising her leg until her body tensed and her leg started to shake.

“Hands up, push out with the ball of your foot. Deep breaths.”

She inhaled, her calf tensing, then exhaled slowly. He kept her there a moment before slowly raising her leg a bit as she exhaled again. Then he lowered himself again before sliding her foot from his shoulder, then pulled her left foot to his shoulder to repeat the stretch.

Her left was tighter, and Eric slid his hand from her ankle, up to her hip, to steady her. He kept a careful watch on her, with a furrowed brow as she grimaced with each breath.

The other initiates started to trickle in, and Michael let out a loud whistle at Treya and Eric, making his friends Nick and Stephen snicker.

Eric gave them a dark, threatening glare and the three of them hurried toward the far wall.

Four was the last in, right behind Jessica, who was almost shaking, and looked nothing less from terrified.

Eric lowered himself and helped Treya’s leg down, his grasp still firm on her hip until her foot hit the floor. He nodded towards the others and followed her to the group.

There were ten targets set up along the wall, each with a painted outline of a person, and a target painted over their chest. A table sat a few feet away, with shiny metal throwing knives,
laid out in a row. Four picked up three knives in his left hand, and one in his right. He faced the targets, twirled the knife in his right hand, adjusted his stance, and threw. The knife stuck dead center on the target.

“Knife throwing isn’t something you will need to do too often, as Dauntless members are issued a gun upon passing initiation. But in the event where a gun is not an option, you’ll need to know how to defend yourself.” Eric’s voice was loud, almost echoing through the training room. He paced up and down the row of initiates as he spoke.

“Your stance should be a normal, strong stance, with your dominant foot forward. The suggested distance from your target is about six feet, give or take. But it is up to you to learn the distance necessary for yourself. For the sake of learning, we start you at six feet.”

Eric nodded to the line painted on the floor, and a few initiates scooted back to stay behind the line.

“Keep your hand relaxed. If you grip the knife too tight, your release will be to low. Too loose and your release will be to high. You release should be about eye level.”

Four threw again, demonstrating.

“Keep your wrist straight and throw directly over your shoulder. Your arm should not be out to one side. This isn’t a game of ball, these are knives.”

Four threw a third time, each knife sticking the target barely an inch from each other.

“Get yourselves some knives and get to work,” Eric growled as Four’s fourth knife wizzed just past his face as he paced. Eric glared at Four, his eyes murderous.

Treya was quick to snatch up four knives, and aligned herself with a middle target. Her stance was natural, and she fiddled with the knife in her hand a moment, before taking a half step back. She looked up at her target, squared her shoulders, and threw. The knife stuck in the center of the target.

Eric and Four exchanged a quick glance, as the others began to throw, most of the knives bouncing off the targets.

Again, Treya fiddled a knife, then focused on her target and threw. The second knife sunk in right next to the first, with a shing as the metal of each knife rubbed each other. Her third knife slipped out of her grasp a moment too early, but still stuck snug against the others, just slightly above. The fourth stuck to the other side of her first.

“Step back,” Eric was right behind her, and she almost jumped in surprise. She gave him a quick glance before picking up three more knives.

She fiddled with the knife then focused on her target, a bit longer than the first four. She threw, a bit more force behind her throw, and it slid into the center along the others. She glanced back at Eric, who was watching, arms crossed, then took two more steps back. She brushed her hair from her eyes, and focused on her target, then threw with more power. Again, it stuck a bit too high, but still within the center ring of the target. Her jaw clenched, unhappy with the result. She looked down at the knife, then flipped it, holding it by the tip of the blade instead of the handle. She threw, force and determination behind it. It sank in between her first and second knives, pushing the two out at an angle, but dead center of the target.

Four and Eric exchanged looks before Eric stepped up behind her, his mouth at her ear as he whispered, “guess factionless do know how to use a knife.”

——

They had continued practice for an hour. The other initiates were slower to make progress. Eric had shown Treya underhand throwing, and although each knife had stuck in the target, she had yet to get one dead center.

Eric had paced behind them, growling orders to keep wrists straight. When he barked at Jessica after her knife missed completely and bounced on the floor just short of the target, telling her to put some power into it, and throw with meaning, she visibly cowered back. It only fueled Eric as he told her to buck up and stop being a coward.

Treya could see the redness flush the girl’s cheeks as tears started to swell in her eyes.

Eric stormed off to another initiate, and Treya slipped over to Jessica.

“Put your other arm out in front of you. Put it level with where you want to hit your target. Bring that arm back as you throw, and make sure to twist your hips.

Jessica tried again, her knife made it far enough, but bounced off the side of the target.

“You’re from Amnity, right?”

The girl nodded, still visibly upset.

“When the boys chop wood for the dinner fire, they bring the axe straight down in front of them. It’s the same when you throw. Bring your arm straight down.”

Jessica tried again. Her knife hit the target, a little low, but it stuck in the target. Her face brightened.

Treya slipped back to her own target, noticing that both Eric and Four were watching her; Four with an impressed look, and Eric with dark amusement.

“Alright, get out,” Eric called, “we’re done for the day.”

The initiates hurried to leave, disposing their knives on the table, and quickly grabbing their belongings, eager to get to dinner.

Treya was slower, picking up the knives that had fallen to the floor, and straightening them on the table with the others.

“Think you can teach better than your trainers, factionless?”

Treya continued to straighten the knives, ignoring Eric for a moment before responding quietly, “she wasn’t receptive to you snarling at her like a rabid dog.”

He glared at her, his eyes murderous.

She glared back, matching his stare.

When he realized she wasn’t going to back down, his eyes narrowed. “You aren’t afraid of me.”

Treya’s eyes were still cold, as she snapped back, quietly “should I be?”

The corners of Eric’s mouth turned down in disgust, his upper lip curled in an almost snarl, “if you know what’s good for you.”

A slight smirk crossed Treya’s face. She was catching onto his tactics. Eric liked to play mind games. Part of what made him so menacing was that not only could he physically hurt you if he wanted, he didn’t have to touch you to strike you. Dauntless have always been a fan of traditional weapons, but Eric had another at his disposal; his words. And he knew exactly how much snarl to put behind his words to intimidate anyone. An old Erudite habit that hadn’t completely died off in his Dauntless training. It made him lethal.

Treya’s responses kept him on his toes. Many times she would let his comments slide without retort. Other times, she fed his venomous words right back at him. She never enjoyed playing the mind games Eric perfected, because it was too easy. Erudite and Candor both knew how to be brutal in their words, especially when it was about another’s weakness. Erudite did it for their own benefit, and Candor because they just had no filter. But there was nothing strong or brave about exploiting another’s weakness. If Treya wanted a fight of any kind, she wanted her opponent equally matched. A fight without a challenge was boring.

The two were equally matched in wit, almost equally matched in physical fighting abilities. But where Eric thrived on his own dark amusement, Treya was humble with her abilities. She didn’t enjoy flaunting her skills, but she wouldn’t think twice about stepping up to a challenge.

She had retrieved her jacket from its spot along the wall, before heading back over to Eric, who was still watching her with a scowl. She flashed him an amused smirk, “I could say the same to you, tough guy.” She slung her jacket over one shoulder before turning and leaving Eric to pull the knives out of the targets.

Chapter Text

His first report to Jeanine had been a basic rundown of her skill levels and his plan for her further training.

His second report was a bit more detailed. He highlighted her double training, outlining his one on one training with her, which consisted mostly of hand to hand combat, weight and endurance training. Then her training with Four, which was the basic initiate training, but altered to her heightened skill level. Eric noted her ability to quickly learn, needing only a brief demonstration before being able to perform the given task.

He expressed his concerns as well. Her eating habits had not improved. She still only ever ate a few bites of food, even with his encouragement. He had noticed she favored apples, beans, and bread. He had started grabbing an apple with his own meal, and setting it next to her before he would sit down across from her. He never saw her eat the second apple, but it always found its way into her jacket pocket, and he assumed she ate it later.

Because of her eating habits, she hadn’t gained much weight. Give or take a pound or two, she was still nothing more than muscle on bone. She was strong, but she looked frail. A little fat was healthy, and she could use some. In their sparing, he had noticed a slight increase in her weight, which was good, but she still had a ways to go.

Eric had also noticed a slight limp in her walk. It had not affected her training in any way, and she was very good at concealing it, but he had noticed it seemed a bit more prominent after their early morning sparring. He had scheduled a physical examination for later in the day, and promised to record its results in his next report.

When his report finally sent, he shut his laptop and pushed it from the edge of his desk. He sat quietly for a moment, mauling over tactics to get her to eat, which frequently crossed his mind. He was charged with her success in Dauntless, and although she didn’t need much help with that, she wasn’t going to succeed if she starved to death prior to the final initiate tests.

A knock on his office door snapped him away from his thoughts. “What?” He called, annoyance thick in his tone.

The door clicked open and a bald head slipped in. A wide toothy grin, nestled in a trimmed red beard, greeted Eric. “Oy, what are you doing there, brother?”

Eric leaned back in his chair with a bored look, “just finished my report. What do you want, Gregory?”

Gregory slid into Eric’s office, his smile never waning. The two had been friends since their initiation into Dauntless, and were quite the opposite of one another. Where Eric was cold and venomous, Gregory was playful and positive.

“Trip to go see Bob might cheer you up.”

Eric rolled his eyes. I don’t need cheering up.”

Gregory’s smile widened, “you always need cheering up. Come on, Isaac will meet us there.”

Eric rolled his eyes again, but stood and followed Gregory out of the office and to the elevator. He let Gregory fill the silence as they made their way to the tattoo parlor. He talked mostly about the tattoo he was planning; some abstract phoenix on his chest.

When the two ducked inside the parlor, Isaac was already on the table, head down, with his dark hair hanging off the edge of the table. Tori, a tall and slender woman, with long, dreaded black hair, was busy on his back, tattoo gun in hand. She had just gotten the tattoo gun out of the way when Gregory gave Isaac and playful slap on his fresh ink.

Isaac hollered, almost jumping off the table. He gave Gregory a glare when Tori yelled at him to lay back down.

A bald, muscular man, skin barely showing through the black tattoos that covered his body, with large piercings in his lip, nose and ears, walked up behind Eric, who was still watching Gregory tease Isaac, much to the displeasure of Tori.

“Ink or metal today?”

Eric turned, giving Bob a slight smile, “not today, just tagging along with these two fools,” he motioned to Gregory and Isaac.

Bob nodded, “you could probably stretch those lobes next week if you want to drop by.” He then turned and headed over to another Dauntless in the corner, before Eric could respond.

Eric always did enjoy his time in the parlor. Bob had been doing his tattoos and piercings since initiate training, and despite Eric’s fear landscape depicting him with hundreds of curved needles, hooking through his flesh, Eric always embraced the sting of the tattoo gun, and the pulling of the piercing needle. However, the masochistic pleasantries of the parlor would have to wait for another day.

He checked his watch before bidding farewell to his fellow Dauntless, and heading back out to the stairs and down the perimeter of the pit. Treya’s training should be done for the day, and her check up at the infirmary was in thirty minutes, unbeknownst to her.

He was lucky. She stayed behind the other initiates as they hurried out of the training room, eager for dinner. He found her and Four still in the training room; Four wrapping a bandage across her knuckles.

“I’m sure the other guy looks worse,” Eric mumbled as he approached the two.

Treya looked annoyed as Four shook his head “I already had Stephen sent to the infirmary.” He looked up at Treya from her bandaged hand “you knocked his teeth out, you know.”

Eric turned his attention to Treya, “you win the fight?”

Four shook his head again, “fighting would mean you’re in the ring, being watched by a trainer.”

Eric raised an eyebrow. Initiates fighting outside of the ring was frowned upon, as many initiates still don’t know what they’re doing.

“He’s a misogynistic asshole who had it coming.”

Eric huffed, “what did he say to you?” He didn’t particularly care, he was more curious what sent her over the edge.

“Not to her,” Four answered, annoyance in his voice. “He was running his mouth at Jessica.”

Eric looked from Treya to Four, then back to Treya. “So you what? Punched him?”

“In the mouth,” growled Four, letting go of Treya’s hand, satisfied with the bandage. “His teeth cut up her knuckles, and he’s in the infirmary, seeing what they can do to fix his teeth.”

Eric nodded, mauling over the situation.

Treya expected harsh words about being a team, and not attacking team members, but the lecture never came. Instead, Eric nodded toward the door, “come, you have an appointment.”

Treya’s brow furrowed, unsure of what he was talking about, but followed nonetheless as Four shook his head and departed for the mess hall.

At the infirmary, Eric signed Treya in, and it was only a moment before a middle aged woman with short, spiked, bleach blonde hair called “Treya Price?” Her eyes darting towards Eric at the familiarity of the name. The woman gave Treya a good look over, “You’re Thane Price’s daughter. You look just like him.”

Treya tensed at her father’s name, and Eric gave her a puzzled look.

The woman’s hard eyes bore into Treya, “I’ve had many patients from his temper and sadistic tendencies.”

Treya finally composed, shooting the woman a dark glare.

The woman’s eyes narrowed as she straightened herself up a bit, “I’m Anne, I’m the head nurse here at Dauntless. I’ll be administering your exam.”

“My exam?” Treya’s tone was dark.

Anne looked to Eric again, then back at Treya, “your physical exam.”

“It’s routine. All initiates get a physical exam,” Eric sounded slightly annoyed and bored.

Anne turned, “follow me.”

The two followed her to an exam room, and Anne shut the door once they were all in. Eric sat in a vacant chair in the corner, and Treya crawled onto the exam table after Anne’s coaxing.

Eric pulled a small computer tablet from his jacket pocket, and busied himself with its contents.

Anne grabbed Treya’s wrist and checked her pulse. She then slid a small clamp with a long cord, onto Treya’s finger. Treya’s vitals popped up on a screen on the wall behind her. Seeming satisfied with the vitals, Anne ordered Treya to open her mouth. “That back tooth bother you?”

Treya shook her head, and Anne noted something on the small computer tablet in her hand.

Anne took the stylus pen from the top of her tablet and clicked its side button. A bright light lit up on its end, and Anne flashed it in Treya’s eyes a few time. Her brow furrowed, “look over my left ear, and don’t move.” Again she flashed the light in Treya’s eyes, first the right, then the left. Then the left again. She turned off the light and jotted more notes on her tablet.

She instructed Treya to stand, and Anne tapped a few times on her tablet. A blue light lit up on one end of the tablet, and Anne slowly scanned it across Treya’s body, head to toe.

The light flicked off.

On the wall screen, Treya’s vitals vanished, and a scan of her body appeared, with certain areas highlighted.

“Nothing broken currently. But you’ve had some pretty serious injuries in the past, haven’t you?”

Treya didn’t respond, still studying the screen.

Anne motioned Treya back onto the exam table, “take off your shirt, pants and boots. You can leave your underwear on.”

Treya’s eyes flashed over to Eric, who had formerly been very attentive to his own computer tablet in his lap, was now alert, watching Treya and Anne.

Anne looked from Eric to Treya, “out Coulter.”

Eric flashed an angry glare at Anne, his jaw tense.

Anne looked back to him, her eyes and voice stern, “out.” Apparently Treya wasn’t the only one who wasn’t intimidated by Eric’s angry demeanor.

Reluctantly, Eric stood to leave, his angry glare still on Anne.

Treya sighed, “it’s fine.” She was slightly annoyed with the whole situation. She had been careful to conceal herself in the barracks; showering late after everyone was asleep, or early before everyone was awake. She wasn’t going to get out of stripping down for Anne, and she figured the woman would just report back to Eric, since he was her trainer. There was no hiding.

She angrily kicked off her boots, before sliding off the exam table, onto her bare feet. She unbuckled the Dauntless issued belt and wiggled out of her training pants, overly aware of both Eric and Anne watching her. She sat back on the table before pulling off her long sleeved shirt.

Eric and Anne gave her a hard look over. Treya’s body was littered with scars. Small circular burn marks covered her chest, peaking out of a tight wrap that bound her. Long white scars crisscrossed her upper arms, and a thick white scar trailed down her left side. More small circles littered her thighs, overlapping a few faded scars.

“What’s this for?” Anne had stepped between Eric and Treya, blocking his view of her, and tapped the wrap on Treya’s chest.

Treya bowed her head, slightly embarrassed, “for training. I don’t have a-“ her voice trailed off.

Anne nodded, the realization hitting her. “Coulter,” she nodded her head to the far wall, and he moved there without question, his eyes still on Treya.

Anne turned Treya on the table, so her back was to Eric, then she slowly unwrapped her.

Eric’s eyes scanned over Treya’s back, and the long crisscrossing scars that marked her. His brow furrowed, his eyes darkened. It was in Treya’s file that she had been abused as a young child. Her father, a Dauntless traitor, was notorious for having a short temper, and a lust for causing pain. He had raised his son to have his same short fuse and sadistic appetite, and when he was banished to be factionless, his son willingly followed. It seemed Treya, as a small child, had fallen victim to their dark cravings.

Treya’s fearlessness made sense to him now. She wasn’t afraid of others because she grew up with monstrous people. She learned to fight out of a need to survive, and she was quick to defend others who were weaker, because she knows what it’s like to abused by someone much larger and stronger than her.

Treya’s arms crossed over her chest when the wrap finally fell free from her body. Her head still bowed.

“I don’t want you to use this anymore. You wrap it so tight, it could cause problems.” Anne’s eyes shot up to Eric, catching his gaze before she looked back to Treya. “Get yourself a good bra. It will give you the same support without cutting off circulation like the wrap.”

Treya swallowed hard. She was embarrassed to be so exposed in front of a woman she had only just met, and her trainer who she had worked so hard to convince that she was a strong warrior. She didn’t like letting people in, and opening up to them. She didn’t like her past being brought to the surface, and the pity that always came with it. She didn’t want or need pity.

“I don’t have any money,” she finally mumbled.

“All initiates receive credits when they start training. You can use them in the shops. Just let them know you’re going to use your credits.” Eric leaned against the wall, his eyes narrow as he continued to examine Treya’s back. For once, there was no malice in his voice.

Anne glanced up at Eric as she picked up the wrap and moved it away from Treya. “I’m keeping this,” she stated, giving Treya a serious look. After setting the wrap on a far table, she took hold of Treya’s left shoulder, before raising her arm and feeling her shoulder from all directions. She move Treya’s arm in a few different ways, while her fingers dug around her shoulder.

Anne had Treya put her shirt back on, before lying her back on the table. She roughly grabbed Treya’s right hip, her fingers digging into it. She moved Treya’s right leg around as she felt her hip. Her brow furrowed, but she let go after a moment, and allowed Treya to redress.

She jotted down more notes in her tablet, before asking “Treya, are you sexually active?”

Treya looked up from her boot, glancing from Anne to Eric, then back to Anne, “not currently,” she almost stuttered.

Anne looked up from her tablet, her eyes hard. She straightened herself with a sigh before heading out of the exam room, motioning for Eric to follow.

When the door had shut behind the two, Anne abruptly turned around, and gave Eric a stern, warning glare. “Are you sleeping with her?”

Eric’s brow furrowed, “why would you ask that?”

Anne turned her tablet around so he could see the screen. Treya’s body scan was on one side, highlighting her left eye, left shoulder, right hip, and her pelvis. “Areas still affected by former traumas. Eric if you’re sleeping with her, it better be consensual or so help me, I will make sure you’re brought before the other leaders.”

Eric growled, “I don’t make a habit of sleeping with initiates. Don’t get it confused which trainer you’re talking to.”

Anne continued to give him a stern look, but her body relaxed. She believed him. She knew Eric was rough. She had administered contraceptives to his partners in the past, and their body scans always light up like a Candor Christmas tree. But this time, it wasn’t because of him.

“She has rental damage in her left eye. She probably struggles more at night or in dim lights.”

Eric huffed, “So in all of Dauntless.”

“She has some cartilage damage in her shoulder and hip. Her shoulder has some slight inflammation, but nothing too concerning. Her hip however,” Anne sighed before she continued, “I’m guessing she broke it when she was young, and it didn’t heal properly. There’s some serious clicking and grinding there.”

Eric nodded. His jaw had relaxed once Anne’s accusations ceased, and he listened with a concerned look. “Should she be training at all?”

Anne let out a dramatic sigh, “I’m surprise she’s not in more pain than she is. I’m not opposed to writing her a script for pain meds. As far as training, yeah, she can train, I suppose. She probably shouldn’t, but I don’t think you could stop her if you tried.”

Eric nodded again, before signing his name on Anne’s tablet. As her trainer, he needed to sign off on her medical records, saying she was fit to continue.

Anne wandered off, letting Eric open the door to retrieve Treya.

Chapter Text

She was on his mind all night.

He let the cool water wash over him as his mind wandered to her. He wasn’t surprised she had physical damage. He had read her file multiple times over and was familiar of her messed up past.

She was stronger than the other initiates. Her mentality was unwavering, despite the constant pain her body was in. She probably had grown used to the pain, the same way Eric had grown used to the constant throbbing in his head. Most of the time he was able to push the throbbing to the back of his thoughts, allowing himself to function normally without the throbbing hindering him. He wondered if Treya did the same.

He remembered her sideways glance at Anne’s questioning. Was she embarrassed at answering in front of him; the way she was when Anne unwrapped her scarred body? There wasn’t much that affected her in a way that caused her to outwardly show discomfort, but there was no doubt that she was uncomfortable with him there. Her tolerance for pain was exceedingly high, and Eric wondered if it wasn’t the tightly bound wrap digging into her skin that was uncomfortable, and rather his presence in the situation.

That had to be it. She would never willingly show her own pain.

Was she embarrassed that he saw her? Embarrassed that she couldn’t hide herself from him?

Eric wasn’t used to females shying away from him. Dauntless girls were usually too eager to show themselves off. Nothing was too taboo for them.

Treya shied away. She wasn’t like the Dauntless girls, and no doubt her past had conditioned her to react this way. Was she worried what his opinion would be; what he would think of her? Would she be surprised if she knew it only made him more intrigued?

Eric switched the shower water to cold; needing to stand in the ice cold water for a moment before switching it off and grabbing his towel.

——

If Eric pitied Treya after her physical exam, he didn’t show it. In fact, his training had gotten tougher. He demanded Treya push herself even harder, and she was happy to do so.

Her fighting continued to improve, and fighting her fellow initiates was no longer fair.

“Treya, in the ring” Eric hollered across the training room.

She quickly slid off her boots and stepped onto the mats. She looked around, wondering who her opponent was going to be. Her eyes fell onto a tall, muscular man with a bald head and red beard, standing next to Eric. He wasn’t an initiate, he was a full member of Dauntless, and looked to be around Eric and Four’s age.

The man pulled his black shirt off, revealing tight, washboard abs, and thick muscular arms that were covered in black tattooed swirls. The word “strength” was inked in an arch across his rigid stomach. He flashed Treya a wide, hungry smile, and stepped onto the mat.

Treya’s eyes flashed over to Eric, unsure if this man was her opponent. In that moment, he swung his arm at her head. Treya leaned back barely quick enough to dodge his fist. Her hands flew up in front of her, blocking another swing from him.

Treya watched him, analyzing his movements, looking for weaknesses. He gave no sign of advancement before attacks, and he was swift. He was light on his feet, and it was all Treya could do to keep up with him.

His fist collided with her chin, and she staggered back a step. He swung again, and Treya ducked, landing a solid punch to his ribs, and then a elbow to the back of his shoulder. She stepped away from him, and he turned, his eyes angry. He lashed out at her again, but she slid to his left, grabbing his left arm and brought it down as hard as she could across her knee. He let out a pained growl, and clutched his arm for a moment. Again he lashed out, and she ducked, but his arm came down around her head, holding her captive. He gave a hard jab to her stomach, then another, then a third.

Treya’s breath caught in her throat and she gasped loudly, trying to breathe again after his punch forced the wind out of her. She reached out and grabbed his knee, her fingers curling into its soft underside. She dug her fingers in, finding the pressure point there. Suddenly his knee buckled, and he let go of her to catch his balance.

She lashed out with her right arm, but he grabbed her wrist, simultaneously sliding behind her, and giving her shoulder a hard punch. She heard the pop before she felt it, but when the hot white pain seared through her arm, she let out a loud yelp. He had let go of her, the wide smile back on his face at his triumph.

Her breath labored with pain and exhaustion, she turned to face him, switching her feet and putting her right foot forward, prepared to fight with the opposite side.

He watched her, then lunged again. She spun backwards, lifting her leg and kicking him in the temple with her heel. The force from her kick in such a specific spot, was enough to cause his eyes to roll back in his head, and his body drop to the floor like dead weight. The smile faded from his face.

Treya panted, her body still tense.

“Nick, Stephen, get Gregory off the floor,” Eric growled.

The two hurried over to the man, as he slowly became conscious again, rubbing his head with a pained expression.

“Treya, you should head down to the infirmary and get your shoulder checked out,” Four suggested.

Treya’s body relaxed slightly, realizing the fight was over. She stepped off the mat, and made her way to Eric, her breathing still heavy. When she stood before him, she turned her back to him, “pop it back in.”

Eric’s eyebrows raised in surprise at her request.

“Treya, you should really have Anne do that,” Four urged.

Eric uncrossed his arms, pulling her to him, and reaching around her and across her chest. He held onto her shoulder tightly, noticing her wince at his touch, and took her arm in his other hand.

Her shoulder quivered under his force, but finally her arm popped back into socket. Again the white hot pain shot down her arm, her fingertips going numb for a moment. Then the pain subsided and dulled. She winced as it popped, and Eric held her body tight to his, his arm still across her chest and holding her shoulder still.

“Next fight, Michael and Oliver.” His voice travelled through Treya, and she could feel Eric’s chest vibrate with his words.

“She should really go to the infirmary,” Four cautioned.

Eric gave him a sideways glance, “she knows what her body can handle.” His mouth was then at Treya’s ear “relax, and watch the fight. Tell me what you see.”

Treya’s breathing slowed, and her brow furrowed at his request, but she obliged, analyzing the two fighters, “Ollie is fast, and light on his feet, but he steps before he punches. Michael is strong, but too tense. It makes him slow.”

“What else,” he mumbled into her ear.

“Michael is too aggressive. His reaction to attacks is delayed because he’s too used to being on the offense.” Treya sighed, “Ollie has good reaction time, but he’s too busy showing off.”

“You don’t like a show off?”

Treya huffed, wincing as her shoulder shrugged habitually. “Fights aren’t for showing off. You fight to protect yourself, you fight to keep your skills sharp. No one likes a show off.”

Eric huffed, almost laughing, “How very factionless.”

Treya’s jaw tightened. She knew Dauntless enjoyed fighting for fun, and showing off their strength and fearlessness. Many of the factionless enjoyed a good play fight and show off, but not Treya.

Oliver and Michael’s fight ended with Oliver tripping himself up on fancy footwork, and Michael bringing his elbow down on Oliver’s face. Michael celebrated his victory, bragging to his friends Nick and Stephen, while Oliver’s brother Logan dragged him off the mat, laughing at his brother’s mistake.

Eric released the initiates for an early lunch.

“How’s the shoulder?”

Treya glared up at the bald headed man, who had joined Eric and Treya as the other initiates scattered out of the room.

Treya shrugged Eric off her shoulder, “it’s fine.”

The man laughed, “you should probably let it rest a bit.”

“It’s fine,” Treya growled.

The man shrugged, “good fight there though lass. I can see how you got top spot. You’ve got a good reverse hook kick.”

Treya’s jaw clenched, still wary of the man.

“Gregory ranked third in our class. I figured you could use a challenge,” Eric smirked.

Gregory stuck out his hand for Treya to shake. She did not oblige.

“Feisty little thing,” Gregory chucked, looking to Eric, “can tell she’s your little pet, your attitude’s rubbed off on her.”

Eric shot him a glare, which Gregory responded to with a hearty laugh, before clapping Eric on the shoulder, and giving Treya a wink.

Treya’s eyes widened for a split second at the flirtatious gesture.

“Put your shirt on Gregory, no one needs to see that before lunch.” Eric rolled his eyes.

Gregory let out a soft tsk before tugging his shirt back over his head. “Gotta let the ladies have a good show,” his eyes were on Treya as he softly bit his lip and gave her a hard look over.

“Get lost Gregory, or I’ll let her kick your ass again,” Eric growled.

Gregory laughed again, “I’ll see ya lass. Eric, we’re going to Bob’s tonight after supper, if ya wanna come.” He didn’t wait for Eric to respond, before he turned and jogged out of the training room.

Treya gave Eric a hard look, “your friend is...different.”

Eric huffed. He and Gregory were quite the opposite, but he had always managed to make Eric laugh. Eric was never quick to let people get close to him, and he was always guarded. But those who found no threat in him were the ones he was drawn to.

“Come with me,” he mumbled, a hand on Treya’s back to guide her out of the room.

——

Eric’s apartment was just as cold as he was.

The walls were painted white, the tile floor was white, the bright lights were white.

He had coaxed Treya through the front door, and she stood just inside it, taking in the sights. To her left was a small living room, with a large black screen on the far left wall, a dark grey couch sat in front of it, complimented with a matching grey chair along the same side as the screen. There were bookshelves in the corner of the far wall, and Treya wondered why a Dauntless would have such a collection of books. To Treya’s right was a peninsula countertop with two barstools pushed underneath it. A sink sat at the end of the counter, opposite a glass top stove. There was a tall metal refrigerator in the corner of the small kitchen, and in the opposite corner of the kitchen was a large pantry.

Directly across from the front door was another door, and Treya assumed that was Eric’s bedroom. To its right, opposite the kitchen, was a second door. Bathroom perhaps.

“Have a seat.”

Treya slowly made her way to the countertop, her arms crossed over her chest. “You still haven’t told me why I’m here.”

Eric was rummaging through a cabinet next to the stove, and pulled out a skillet to set on the stovetop before asking “you don’t like Dauntless food, because it’s too heavy. Right?”

Treya didn’t respond, but watched him curiously.

Eric glanced over his shoulder at her, before taking a sideways step to open the refrigerator. It wasn’t overly full, but Treya could see brightly colored fruits and vegetables, a tray of thawing chicken, a few condiments, a bowl of eggs, and a pitcher of water. Eric pulled out a bright red apple and set it in front of Treya before pulling out the chicken. “You can start with that.”

Treya eyed the apple, her brow furrowed. She looked back at Eric who was busy cooking the chicken. “So you’re cooking?”

“No, I’m planting daisies,” it took Treya a moment to catch the subtle sarcasm in his voice.

She watched him as he pulled out a second pot and began to boil water before dumping a rice-like substance into it that he retrieved from the pantry. “You’re cooking for two, I hope,” she noted the amount of food he seemed to be preparing.

“I was planning on force feeding you twice your weight in food.”

Treya’s eyes narrowed at the back of his head, and her expression didn’t change when he glanced over his shoulder and added, “but I’d prefer to eat to, if you’ll share.”

It was everything she could do not to roll her eyes. He wasn’t so sarcastic with the other initiates, and Treya wondered if it was because she didn’t fear the brooding demeanor he usually gave.

Thirty minutes later, he set a plate in front of her. The chicken, already cut, was perfectly white on the inside, and soft brown on the outside. There was a small portion of a rice-like mixture, but shaped more like small balls than elongated rice, and a bright green lettuce mixture with dried red berries on top.

Treya’s brow furrowed slightly at the plate. It was definitely not the typical Dauntless food, but what was more surprising was that it was cooked and prepared by Eric. Treya had never before envisioned him hovered over a stove.

“Dauntless cooks tend to use a lot of oil and butter. I don’t care for it either.”

Treya glanced up at him as he set a glass of water in front of her, and slid her a fork. “What is this,” she motioned toward the small brown pile next to her chicken.

“Couscous, a kind of pasta, but not as heavy or filling.” He stood, leaned up against the opposite counter, next to the stove, his own plate and fork in hand.

Treya tried a small bite. It wasn’t bad. It paired nicely with the chicken, and soon Treya found herself scooping both together, into her mouth. When the two were gone, she poked at the dried berries on top of her salad.

Eric watched her a moment, before noting, “they’re supposed to be like that. Dried cranberries.”

Treya’s brow furrowed, “usually when fruit looks like that, you shouldn’t eat it.”

“That’s because those are the rotten ones out of the Amnity crop you steal. These aren’t rotten. They’re dried.”

Treya eyed him. He wasn’t trying to be snide. He recognized that most factionless food was either canned that was given to them from Abnegation, or stolen from Amnity. Factionless didn’t come into contact with much else. He wasn’t condemning her thievery, just acknowledging it.

“The sweetness counters the bitter lettuce. I wouldn’t advise eating it alone,” he noted, watching her stab it with her fork, “I’m guessing you aren’t used to sweet foods.”

She heeded his advice, stabbing at the lettuce as well. He was right, it was sweet, and she probably wouldn’t have liked it by itself, but with the lettuce it was fine. It was a bit more chewy than she anticipated, however.

She didn’t completely clean her plate, but Eric seemed satisfied with what she ate, and he quietly cleaned their plates and the skillet and pot. It wasn’t nearly as filling and heavy as the Dauntless food in the mess hall, but she was full nonetheless.

“Tomorrow is visiting day,” he didn’t turn to look at her as he scrubbed the skillet.

Treya had made her way over to the bookshelves in the far corner, and was scanning the spines of the books. A lot of faction-lovers might be surprised to find that a factionless-born could read and write, but having so many banished faction members, there were enough people to teach young factionless the basics like any other child. After Evelyn had taken her in, Treya studied reading and writing from a former Erudite woman named Edith. The woman had left her faction after being ridiculed for her radical belief in an all powerful being. She was happy to teach the young factionless children reading, writing, and arithmetic. Treya had always admired how happy the woman was, even on the brink of death. She had always told Treya that there were two kinds of people who weren’t afraid of death: those who saw it as inevitable, and those who believed in what came after. Treya only had positive memories of the woman, and the books on Eric’s shelves reminded her of Edith.

Eric had finished with the skillet, and set it on the counter to dry. He had turned, and watched Treya slowly scan over the books. His eyes narrowed as he studied her. She was very lost in thought and unaware of his comment towards her, so he waited and watched patiently. He wondered if she had ever read a book, if she could even read, and what she thought about is large collection of them.

“You’re studying me,” Treya mumbled, not looking away from the books.

Eric straightened himself, still watching her curiously.

“Why?”

He made his way out of the kitchen, and over towards her. She never looked away from the books, so he stood just behind her, watching. “What do you think?”

Her head shifted slightly towards him, but she kept reading the titles, “I think it’s a surprisingly large selection for a Dauntless.”

Eric was quiet, his brow slightly furrowed, curiously.

“Mostly nonfiction. You learn how to cook from those cookbooks?” She nodded her head to a few oversized books on the bottom shelf.

“You can learn a lot of things from books.”

Treya’s mouth twitched into a smile for a slight moment, “How very Erudite of you.” She looked over her shoulder at him, flashing that smile again, “I guess old habits die hard, huh?”

He tilted his head, and she turned back to the books, “not all Dauntless are just a bunch of meatheads.”

“I never thought they were,” her voice seemed to drift off as she continued to scan the books. Her fingertips brushed across one of the many anatomy books. “It’s very interesting, how people are still stuck in their old ways; caught between the nature of what their chosen faction is, and the nurture of the faction they were raised in.”

Eric’s brow furrowed a bit more as he waited for her to continue.

She turned to face him, “for example, you were raised Erudite, now you are a Dauntless leader, making decisions for your faction based on proven methods.” When he didn’t respond, she continued, “how many Amnity-born are Dauntless cooks? How many Erudite-born work in intelligence?” Again she paused.

He took a deep breath, mauling over her words.

“Look at Andrew Prior, he was an Erudite-born, working as an Abnegation government official. Look at Four, he came from Abnegation, where they put others before themselves. Is he not doing that as a Dauntless trainer?”

“And where does that leave you?” Eric cut her off, getting her point.

She huffed, “laughing at you faction-lovers and your futile attempts to conform into one distinct category.”

Eric narrowed his eyes, a smirk flashing across his face, “and you’re not attempting to conform into Dauntless by choosing and participating in Dauntless initiation?”

Treya was quiet a moment, her eyes darkening into a glare, “just because I can pass Dauntless initiation, doesn’t mean I’m Dauntless.” She let her words hang in the air, uncomfortably, for a moment before she turned back to the bookshelves, “you were talking about visitation.”

Eric was quiet a moment, studying her once again. She had seemed almost pained by her statement about not being Dauntless. He wondered if she was worried that initiation might actually conform her, or if she really wanted to be a part of the faction, and something else was holding her back. But he allowed her to change the subject, “Yes, families of transfer initiates get to visit and share a meal.”

Treya didn’t respond.

Eric knew Treya wasn’t in touch with her blood relatives. She had been a victim of their abuse as a child, and wanted nothing to do with them. “It’s only for immediate family, so Evelyn will not be permitted to visit.”

“I figured she wouldn’t be allowed anyway,” Treya’s voice trailed off, a hint of longing lingered in it.

“I actually advise against participating. Usually makes the break of faction before blood a bit more difficult.”

Treya nodded.

Eric sighed, “come, training will be starting soon.” He almost regretted the somber feeling he caused.

——

The stretching was uncomfortable, but not painful, and Eric had come to enjoy the uncomfortable feeling. Bob’s hands were firm and deliberate as he slid a new gauge in place. Bob wasn’t much of a talker when he worked. He wasn’t much of a talker at all, and Eric preferred it that way. Their interactions were always quiet; Bob would go about his work, and Eric would wallow in the uncomfortable feeling of the tattoo gun or the piercing needle. Pain was humbling to Eric. It reminded him how fragile life was, and how weak the human body was. A weakness he was determined to overcome.

Eric sat up when Bob was done. He slid off the table and made his way over to Isaac. He examined the tattoo Tori was inking into Isaac’s back. It was a large black flame, similar to the Dauntless symbol, but with clouds of grey swirling around it.

“How long have you been working on this piece?”

Isaac grumbled, not enjoying the pain the way Eric usually did, “this is my fourth session.”

“A lot of work in that,” Eric noted.

“Took me an hour to come up with the design, another hour to size it up this big. Then each session has been four hours,” Tori mumbled, not glancing up from Isaac’s back.

Eric watched her hand glide over Isaac’s skin, the muscles in her arm tense to keep her hand steady. Eric didn’t know much about Tori, other than that she was on the opposite side of the faction when Dauntless split during the uprising. Because of that, he kept his distance.

Isaac turned his head towards Eric, as he laid on the table, “so what’s with this chick?”

Eric furrowed his brow.

“Gregory says you’ve got some chick you’re training?” Isaac asked through gritted teeth.

Eric gave him a bored look, “she’s just an initiate.”

“So why isn’t Four and Lauren teaching her?”

Eric sighed, his eyes rolling slightly, “she’s too advanced for them to teach along side the other initiates.”

“Too advanced huh? Dauntless born?”

“No,” Eric corrected, “the factionless transfer.”

Tori’s eyes darted up at Eric, but she said nothing.

“Factionless,” Isaac’s voice was that of slight disbelief. “They got fighters in factionless?”

“Mm,” Eric mumbled, bored.

“And she’s that good huh?”

“Good enough to kick Gregory’s ass,” Eric smirked.

“Yeah, well if it’s a chick, Gregory will be too busy showing off and not paying attention to the fight.”

Eric huffed, smirking again, “she knocked him cold.”

Isaac huffed this time, and Tori shot him a glare, not wanting to mess up her work. “Gregory said she’s pretty hot.”

“Did he now,” it was more of a statement than a question.

“You tapping that?”

Eric shot him a warning glare, noticing Tori pull the tattoo gun away momentarily to listen, and Bob almost choke on his drink in the corner.

“Are you?”

“No Isaac. You’re as bad as Gregory,” Eric growled.

Isaac shrugged, and Tori started the gun again.

“Why does everyone assume I fuck initiates?”

“Cause you’re the hit it and quit it guy,” Isaac gritted his teeth again.

“And what’s that supposed to mean?”

Isaac groaned, “Eric when was the last time you had an actual relationship? More than a one night stand?”

Eric was quiet, knowing Isaac wasn’t actually looking for an answer. Since joining Dauntless, Eric had only slept around with girls, never committing to a singular one. He didn’t need a relationship and the drama that came with it. And he certainly didn’t need to feel obligated to show tenderness and emotion. That wasn’t in his nature.

He’d had a relationship before, when he was still in Erudite. He was young, and never felt quite like himself with a girl always clinging to his arm. Relationships weren’t worth the trouble. Sure, many girls would be happy to be attached to him, and he knew it. He was a young, attractive Dauntless leader, and his sour attitude seemed to make Dauntless girls swoon. Despite hard and tough exteriors, Eric found most Dauntless girls to be masochistic, and he was happy to feed their hunger for such. But when morning came, they could beat it.

“So you gonna jump on that or what?” Isaac’s pained gaze was back on Eric.

“I don’t sleep with initiates,” Eric growled.

Isaac laughed, and then let out a surprised yelp as Tori smacked him in the back of the head with a warning to lay still.

——

Treya let the warm water flow over her body. The Dauntless compound was always so cold and Treya was constantly trying to warm herself with training and late night showers.

She didn’t need peering eyes from the smug Erudite transfers. She was always careful to shower when everyone was asleep. It was easier to lose some sleep than to answer all the questions that came with the amount of scars on her body.

The warm water traced its way over her skin, and through her hair. As factionless, she spent most of her time outside, in the warmth of the sun. At night, the factionless would huddle together to stay warm in the chilly air. She usually slept curled up next to Edgar, her longtime and closest friend.

The warm water reminded her of him. There was a time when he had taken her to the pond on the city’s edge. The grass around it had grown tall enough to provide cover, and the pond was usually left secluded, save a few wild birds. It was the first time he had shown her the pond, and she had dipped her hand in, surprised to find it so warm in the sunlight. She had stripped herself down to her underwear, and slowly walked into the water. Though small enough to be considered a pond, it was chest deep, and Treya lowered herself under its surface, the warmth surrounding her on all sides. She had floated there in its center, for a long time, her ears under the surface, drowning out the world around her. Edgar had stayed at the edge, sitting in the grass, watching her silently. It was the first time she had permitted him to see her body. He never asked. Perhaps it was because he already knew. He already knew what had happened to her, and so her scars did not surprise him. He did not pity her, or judge her, and the only reason he watched was to inform her of nearby strangers.

Warm water reminded her of Edgar.

A sleepy cough snapped her from her memory, and Treya turned off the water, simultaneously grabbing her towel and wrapped it around her in a futile attempt to withhold the warmth the water had given her.

She turned to find her clothes, but found Michael instead, watching her with a wide, menacing smile. Michael was nothing but trouble.

“Well aren’t you just stitched together,” Michael gave her a look over, his eyes lingering on her body a bit longer than she liked.

She gave him a dark glare.

“Like some kind of lab experiment gone wrong,” Michael snickered. “Here I was wondering if you ever showered at all. Factionless are pretty disgusting, so I wouldn’t be too surprised if you didn’t shower.”

Treya sidestepped him, but he caught her arm to stop her.

“Tell me something, stitch, how many faction members did you scar during the uprising? How many did you kill?” His voice was low, and he wasn’t looking for an answer, he just wanted to let Treya know his disgust for her.

Treya wrenched her arm away from him, “I’m about to add another to the count,” she snarled.

He smirked, before handing her the shirt she had set in the corner, “get dressed stitch, no one wants to see that mess.”

Chapter Text

Treya was already in the training room, taking out her anger on a punching bag, when Eric walked in.

“Don’t you ever sleep?”

She didn’t respond, hitting the punching bag again, with a hard, deliberate punch.

Eric’s brow furrowed. He noticed her punches were a bit less controlled than normal. It was a slight change, one that wouldn’t be noticed if a person hadn’t studied her as much as he did. It was the slight dart of her eyes, almost a blink, when she landed each punch, that gave it away. Something was bothering her, but she didn’t seem like she wanted to discuss it.

He made his way over to her anyway, grabbing her left wrist firmly.

She half heartedly tried to pull away from his grasp, not really caring, but more out of the habit of shying away from such touches.

Eric turned her to him, taking her other wrist into his freehand, and examining her knuckles. They were bruised and cracked, and red with irritation. She had been going at that bag for a while. His eyes glanced up at her’s, but her eyes darted away from him. He turned her hands in his, “You need to wrap your hands when you’re on the bag. You can take them off when you’re in the ring.”

She wrenched her hands away more forcefully this time, “I don’t need special treatment.”

“You’re pulling two-a-day training when everyone else is pulling one. I’d say you’re hardly getting special treatment.”

“Are we done here?”

Eric narrowed his eyes, quiet a moment before stating in a low voice, “I don’t know what’s gotten to you, but knock it off. Focus on the bag, and quit flailing. Deliberate punches.”

Treya turned back to the bag, and Eric put a hand out, between her and the bag, to stop her, “after you wrap your hands.”

The training room door clicked open, and Michael, Nick and Stephen filtered in, looking up in surprise at Eric.

Eric’s eyes darkened as he glared at the three, “squeezing in extra practice time, initiates?”

Treya glanced at them as well, to find Michael looking over her figure with a smirk. She turned back to the bag, the hair on the back of her neck standing on edge.

“Yeah, figured if Stitch was getting extra practice, we should too,” Michael stated, amused.

Eric’s brow furrowed at the nickname, and he turned to Treya, his hand still in front of her. Behind him, the three boys snickered. Eric saw Treya physically tense at their snickering, and his eyes moved down her form before back up to her angry expression. The realization of where the nickname stemmed from finally hit him, and he straightened, his eyes hardening, “why don’t you jump on the weights,” his voice echoed over to the three, then he added just loud enough for Treya to hear, “all of us.”

Treya followed Eric to the weight training corner.

Michael was quick to slide weights on a bar, and position himself underneath. Nick stepped behind him, ready to spot him while Stephen sat on a bench across from them, with two large dumbells, curling them.

Eric led Treya over to the bench press. When she tried to sit on the bench, he stopped her, and motioned her to move. He slid on the large weighted discs, and Treya wondered if he was trying to kill her. There was no way she could press three hundred pounds. It would crush her.

But it was Eric who sat on the bench and laid back.

Treya took the spot of spotter, positioning herself at his head. When he adjusted his grip on the bar, Treya bent her knees, and gently put her hands under the bar. It was silly to think she could actually spot for him. If something were to go wrong, she would be of very little help to him, as the weights were much heavier than she could ever manage. But she humored him, watching him closely as he lifted the bar, and lowered it to his chest.

He repeated the process a few times, and the three boys were soon watching, in awe about the weight he could manage. They were beginners, and could only average about half the weight Eric could move.

Eric’s muscles tensed, and the veins in his arms bulged as he continued. When he finally lowered the barbell back onto its stand, he sat up with a smirk, his sinister gaze on the three boys. “Nothing like a good warm up lift.”

The boys turned away, mumbling amongst themselves.

Eric turned to Treya and nodded towards the chin up bar.

Silently she made her way to the bar. It was above her head, and she usually had to jump to reach it, but Eric stepped behind her, and placed his hands firmly on her hips.

“One, two, three,” he murmured in her ear, and she jumped on three. He lifted her, and she quickly grabbed the bar. His grip on her hips stayed firm a moment longer as she adjusted her grip on the bar, and pulled herself up. “Lock your feet.”

She crossed her ankles, and continued to pull herself up.

Eric moved in front of her, watching her closely. When she finished her rep, he grabbed her by the hips again, and helped her back to the floor. “Your grip is lax, hard to hold on with busted knuckles?”

She nodded, her arms burning from the chin ups. The three boys, who had moved further away, and were laughing at one another, had challenged each other to a push-up contest, and their laughter caught Treya’s attention. Her eyes darted in their direction and her body tensed.

Eric glanced at the boys and then back to Treya. He slid in front of her, breaking her stare, “why don’t you go run it off.” It was an order, not a suggestion, and Treya turned and jogged her way to the perimeter of the training room, and then around the outside.

Eric watched her take off, and when he was convinced her attention was not on the boys, he made his way over to them. He stood over Michael, who seemed to be doing push-ups with more ease than the other two. His eyes narrowed as Michael laughed at Nick, who had given up trying to keep up with the other two. Eric placed his foot in the middle of Michael’s back, between his shoulder blades, and pushed.

Michael let out a groan, struggling to push himself from the floor with Eric’s foot pushing him back down.

Stephen had stopped as well, and he and Nick watched silently as Michael struggled underneath Eric. They were nervous for their friend, but knew better than to intervene.

“Well push,” Eric snarled, and Michael let out another groan. “If you find your training is too easy for you, then maybe it’s time to step it up a notch,” Eric growled. “Quit taking the easy way out and step up. You’re never going to get better if you don’t push yourself. Now push,” he snarled down at Michael like a hungry wolf over a frightened rabbit.

Michael let out another frustrated groan, and Eric rolled his eyes as the boy flopped to the ground, giving in.

Eric leaned over Michael, who was huffing in exhaustion, “Dauntless never give up,” he growled at the three, and then he lowered his voice toward Michael “and watch yourself. We work as a team here, and you’re a team with your fellow initiates.” Eric straightened himself and turned away from the three. He turned his attention back to Treya, who was making another lap around the room, her eyes on him.

——

The boys had left Treya alone the rest of the day.

Eric cut training short, since it was visiting day, and initiates quickly filed out of the training room to shower and find their visiting families.

Treya made her way out of the room behind the others, mauling over what to do with her evening. She knew she’d end up back in the training room, but she figured she would wander the shops in the pit for a bit.

She hadn’t ventured into them since she was ordered to buy a bra, and she wondered what other shops there were.

Up the narrow stairs on the edge of the pit, Treya wandered into a small shop with shelves of prepackaged food. Treya had never seen foods like these. The plastic packaging said things like ‘energy bar’ and ‘protein packed.’ There were canned beverages in dark metal with shaky and distorted scripted names. There were packages of dried meats, and sweets; lots of sweets. Dauntless all seemed to have a sweet tooth. It was one thing Treya hadn’t grown accustom to.

She wandered the shop, not really looking for anything in particular. After having wandered every isle, she made her way out and towards another shop. This one was a clothing shop; filled with different shades of black fabrics, and metal grommets and studs, and leather boots of all styles.

There was a petite, blue haired girl, with metal piercings throughout her face, behind a counter, tapping away on a small computer tablet, and had barely noticed Treya at all.

“Gonna replace those kicks?” The girl nodded towards Treya’s feet, not looking up from her tablet, “those boots have seen better days.”

Treya looked down at her boots. They were tattered and almost worn through in spots, “I’m sure I don’t have enough credits for those.”

The girl huffed, “just use your boyfriend’s.”

“Excuse me?” Treya turned to the girl, giving her a dark questioning gaze.

“You’re Eric Coulter’s girlfriend,” the girl returned Treya’s gaze, her voice and eyes both annoyed. When Treya didn’t respond, the girl sighed and put down the tablet. She made her way around the counter and to Treya’s side. “If you’re that worried, go with these,” she picked up a pair of plain black boots and handed them to Treya. “Cheap but durable.”

Treya took the boots and looked them over, “how much?”

“20 credits,” the girl made her way back to the counter.

Treya nodded and followed the girl, “alright.”

“Last name?”

“Price.”

The girl typed on her tablet, then turned it for Treya to sign her name on the screen with her finger.

Treya signed, then picked up her shoes. “Why did you call me Eric’s girlfriend?”

The girl turned her tablet back around, “aren’t you?” She didn’t receive a response, so she added “Gregory told James, who told Amber, who told me, that he was dating the factionless initiate.”

Treya blinked at the long explanation, then made her way towards the shop door, “we’re not together,” then she left the girl in the shop without a chance to respond.

Back down the steps, Treya made her way across the pit floor, ignoring the initiates and their families who were hugging and laughing together. She was almost to the other side of the large cavernous room when she heard him.

“T!”

She froze, her body tensed and the hair on the back of her neck stood on edge. By the time she turned around to face him, he was practically right behind her. Her eyes darkened.

Her half brother, Jordan, smiled down at her. He was tall and slim, with shaggy black hair, and a half head taller than her. Although he was under weight, as all factionless, he was solid muscle. His eyes hungrily looked up and down Treya’s form. “You’ve grown.”

Her grip on her new boots tightened, and her dark glare only darkened, as a figure shifted behind him.

“Treya doll.”

Treya’s body shifted to a fighting stance, her right foot back, and hands low, but ready to defend herself. Her throat tightened, hearing her father’s voice, “What are you doing here?”

“It’s visiting day,” Jordan stated playfully.

“Figured we’d visit our favorite doll,” Thane’s voice was low, his smile was dark, murderous.

Despite all her training, both as Evelyn’s fighter, and as a Dauntless initiate, this man still sparked the unnerve that radiated through Treya’s tense form. She hadn’t seen either of them since she was twelve; since they made games out of abusing her in every possible way. A childhood she wished she could forget.

Thane’s piercing blue eyes never left Treya’s, but she could feel Jordan’s brown ones continue to roam her body.

Thane’s smile was unnerving; the same hungry smile, bordered by his graying goatee, that she remembered as a child. His bald head tilted slightly in her direction as he took a step toward her.

Instinctively, her weight shifted to her back foot, and Thane paused to look her over.

“You think you could fight me?” Thane sneered. He was taller than her, and his dangerous smiling down on her made her feel two feet tall. Thane growled down at her, “why don’t you come home now, doll. We miss our play thing.”

“Thane Price,” Eric’s voice boomed and Thane, Jordan and Treya turned toward him as he made his way to them in long, powerful strides.

Treya seized the moment to take another step away from Thane, and Eric smoothly stepped between them.

“Surprised to find you down here in Dauntless,” Eric growled, “seeing as you’re a traitor and all.” Eric crossed his arms over his chest, his large form creating a barrier between Treya and her unwanted visitors.

“It’s visiting day,” Jordan hissed from behind his father.

Eric’s eyes shot a warning glare at Jordan, “surprised you even had the guts to show your face around here, coward.”

Thane glanced back at his son, then around Eric at Treya, “we were just discussing Treya’s return home, once she fails out of Dauntless.”

Treya shifted to the side, giving Thane a dark glare, but still behind Eric.

“You’re daughter,” Eric’s voice raised, getting Thane’s attention again, “is doing very well here at Dauntless. She’s a talented fighter, and sitting at the top of her class.”

Jordan’s eyebrows rose in surprise, but Thane’s eyes narrowed in anger. “She’s a factionless whore and nothing else,” Thane snarled, reaching out to snatch at Treya.

Treya was quick to dart back, and Eric was just as quick to put his arm between the two, stopping Thane.

“I suggest you take your little tag along, and leave,” Eric matched Thane’s snarl. “Or I’ll have to inform Max of your presence. I believe he put a bounty on your head if you were to ever return.”

Thane’s eyes narrowed and the two stood nose to nose, neither backing down.

Jordan snuck around his father, and made a grab for Treya. She side stepped him and planted her fist into his nose. He yelped in a mix of surprise and pain as blood started to trickle down from his nostril.

The two men broke their stand off, and Thane growled in fury “you little whore!” He grabbed for Treya again, but Eric slid between them and shoved Thane backwards.

By now, the other initiates and their families were watching and whispering. A few Dauntless members whispered Thane’s name as they recognized him.

Thane glanced around, unnerved by his name being whispered in echoes through the cavern.

Eric slid his arm behind Treya, and his hand found the small of her back. “Come on,” he mumbled to her, guiding her towards the edge of the pit.

Thane growled, seeing the two leave, “so that’s how you stay on top. You just fuck your way there! Once a whore always a whore!” His voice was a roar, and echoed through the pit.

Eric stopped and Treya could feel him tense. She glanced up at him to see his upper lip quiver as he held back a snarl. He turned, and in large strides, was back to Thane, toe to toe.

“If you want a fight, why don’t you step up to a real opponent, and stop beating around little girls. But that’s your thing, isn’t it? Little girls.” Eric’s voice was a low growl, but quiet enough that no one but Thane could hear.

Thane matched his tone, a poisonous smirk crossing his face, “you give her an extra two points every time she licks up your shaft? Another when you bend her over? I’m sure you enjoyed that tight wet hole. Hard not to when she whimpers and begs you to stop.”

With lightning speed, Eric landed a hard punch to Thane’s cheek, knocking him to the floor. Eric’s form followed him down, pinning the man and landing punch after punch to his head and ribs.

Jordan jumped onto Eric, blood dried on his face, and wrapped his arm around Eric’s throat. Eric thrashed, trying to shake off Jordan and continue his assault on Thane.

Treya was quick, and ripped her half brother from Eric, before giving him another punch to the face. Jordan fell backwards, and Treya turned her attention to Eric.

“Eric stop! Get off him!”

Eric was seeing red, and Treya had to push herself between Eric and her father, “Eric look at me!” She caught Eric’s eyes, and his face changed from the murderous look he had, to a softer one as Treya pulled him up. “Leave him.”

Thane was panting, barely conscious from the assault. Jordan was hovered over him, trying to pull the man up. “Come on da, we have to get out of here,” he hissed quietly.

Treya continued to push Eric away, but his eyes were on the two men. He glanced up, seeing Max watching from a bridge above the pit, not making any effort to stop the fight.

“Eric,” Treya mumbled, annoyed.

Eric glanced down at her, then pulled her to his side with one arm, and pointing at a group of Dauntless who were watching from the corner, “get these two traitors to Max,” he growled before turning with Treya and exiting the pit.

There were days Treya questioned whether Eric was more Erudite than Dauntless. Today wasn’t one of those days. Today he was all Dauntless.

——

If either Treya or Eric were embarrassed by the events earlier that day, neither of them showed it.

Treya retreated back to the training room, where she sat on the floor and folded the toes of her new boots, back and forth, attempting to break them in before going back to her training.

Eric on the other hand, had climbed his way to Max’s office, to follow up on Thane and Jordan’s appearances.

“They’ve been escorted out of Dauntless,” Max mumbled without looking up as Eric quietly shut the office door behind him.

Eric’s brow furrowed, “what happened to that bounty on Thane’s head?”

Max sighed, but continued with the paperwork on his desk, “Dauntless leaders decided he was just to be banished.”

“That was twenty years ago, and you’re the only leader left from that reign.”

Max finally looked up, giving Eric a very serious look, “I’d like nothing more than to see the life drain from that man’s face, but as a Dauntless leader, my job is to uphold the law, in and outside of this faction. What kind of standard would I be setting if I killed Thane, after his fate has already been decided?”

Eric’s jaw clenched. A lot had changed since the uprising, including Max’s attitude. Max was more concerned with pulling Dauntless together, and mending where the uprising had ripped it. There were no cuts to be made this year, as so many Dauntless died during the uprising, and their numbers plummeted. He was returning to the original Dauntless manifesto and standards, no longer making decisions without thinking them through. Although his alliance with Jeanine was still intact, he also made efforts to align with Jack Kang, the Candor leader. Amnity and Abnegation weren’t currently on his radar for alliance, as those two factions were weaker, and more forgiving.

Eric crossed his arms over his chest, “has justice been served for Ethan?”

Max’s eyes darkened, “Ethan was laid to rest long ago, and the Dauntless leaders brought Thane to justice with his banishment.”

“No,” Eric growled, “Dauntless leaders were afraid of Thane because he had such a following. I’ve read the reports.”

Max stood, his muscular form was relaxed, but firm, matching his tone, “reading reports does not mean you know what happened. It means you know what was reported.” Max was always guarded when talking about his son, Ethan, and the circumstances of his death.

Eric’s jaw relaxed as Max reminded him of his place. When Max was satisfied that Eric had submitted, he sat back down at his desk.

“You were quick to defend your initiate.”

Eric shifted, glancing away from Max, and out the glass window that overlooked the pit.

“That was good. We want to instill a sense of teamwork among Dauntless, you were certainly modeling that teamwork. I know that was hard for you.” Max knew that Eric struggled treating his fellow Dauntless as equals.

“It’s different with her.”

Max sat back in his seat, giving Eric a hard look over, waiting for him to go on.

“She’s strong like Dauntless, but humble. She’s not like the others,” Eric’s eyes shot to the floor.

“I’ve seen your reports. She’s what we’re looking for here at Dauntless.”

Eric’s eyes shifted back to Max, “you think she fits in here?”

Max nodded slowly, “I think she may be fit for leadership. She’s not a meathead soldier.”

“I don’t think that’s what Jeanine had in mind for conforming factionless.”

Max’s eyes narrowed, “I’m not concerned about Jeanine’s opinion of who I choose to run my faction.”

Eric cocked his head, “then why play out her theory on factionless at all?”

“Her ideas are right. If we conform factionless, we run less of a risk of riots. Kang is in agreement with her, Johanna knows better than to argue, and Abnegation is still rebuilding.”

Eric nodded, thinking. Since the uprising, the government had been run by the faction leaders. Abnegation currently had no leaders, as they were all killed by the Dauntless attacks two years prior. At first, the leaders struggled to share common ground, which allowed the factionless to continue rioting. Eventually, with Jeanine’s coaxing, they all seemed to agree that the factionless were the problem.

“This builds our bonds with the other factions, and reestablishes our reputation as the protectors of this city,” Max continued.

Eric was willing to listen to the lecture. Although he was a leader, Max was still his superior, and Eric could still learn from him. He ran his fingers through his hair as he listened.

Max paused his lecture, giving Eric a questioning look. “Still bothering you?”

Eric’s hand shot down from his hair when he realized what he was doing. “Has it’s moments,” he mumbled, crossing his arms again. The throbbing pain was constant, but every once in a while the pain heightened, and Eric found himself rubbing the scar along the line of his mohawk. Being shot, dragged to the Erudite headquarters, and revived just in time to have the bullet removed from his skull, had made Eric think more deeply about life; his own life. Life was fragile, and the human body was weak. After being shot, Eric had been determined to strengthen himself both physically and mentally. Part of that strengthening was to be open to learn, and learning in all situations. Eric hated to admit that he did not know everything. It was too humbling, but there was strength in it as well.

He often caught himself running his fingers over the bump of the scar that was carved into his head. Especially when contemplating life’s fragility.

“Have you talked to Anne?”

Eric was quiet. Despite the pain in his head, he’d rather tough it out than find himself in the infirmary, admitting that he wasn’t made of steel. Especially to Anne, the fearless, no nonsense Dauntless doctor. Instead, he shot Max an annoyed look, and Max only shrugged in response.

“Have you finished your report this week?”

“I was going to do that tonight,” Eric mumbled.

Max nodded, looking back down to his paperwork, “good.” When he didn’t respond further, Max glanced up at Eric, “anything else?”

Eric straightened before turning to head out of Max’s office.

“Eric,” Max stopped him, returning his gaze back to his paperwork as Eric turned to look at him, “don’t question my decision again.”

Eric pause a moment, then turned and quietly left the office.

——

Week 3

Subject continues to show improvement in fighting skills. When asked to spar a skilled Dauntless member, the subject obliged and proceeded to display knowledge of both basic and advanced fighting techniques. Subject displays leader and teaching skills. Subject’s fitness training proceeds to improve as well.

Subject displays a sense of protectiveness and loyalty over weaker initiates. Subject engaged in attack on a fellow initiate who bullied a weaker initiate. However, subject does not engage in attack if bullying is targeted to her.

Subject’s dietary habits have improved slightly. Subject dislikes mess hall food, but consume foods that are not deemed “heavy and rich.” Subject prefers fruit, vegetables, and grains.

Subject had a physical exam the prior Monday. Results are outlined below:
rental damage in left eye
cartilage damage in left shoulder
cartilage damage in right hip
pelvic trauma

These injuries are the result of trauma sustained during early childhood, aggravated by lack of proper medical care. Subject displays high pain tolerance. Subject was cleared to continue training, but will be watched closely.

Subject does not engage in socializing with other initiates or Dauntless members. Subject was visited by father and brother, but subject declined to socialize.

Subject is still ranked #1 with a 97 point lead.

Any updates will be included in next report.

Respectfully,
Eric Coulter
Dauntless Leader

——

Eric didn’t return to training after lunch the following day, and Treya found herself slightly disappointed. She enjoyed Eric’s advanced training, as it always pushed her to learn more and be better. Four certainly tried to push her, but it wasn’t the same.

“Treya, I’d like you to work with Jessica today.” Four had pulled her aside, away from the others.

“I didn’t think we were partnering today.”

Four smirked sweetly, “we’re not. But I think she would benefit from working with you.”

“I’m not her trainer.”

Four’s smile doesn’t waver, “no, you’re her teammate.”

Treya sighed. He was right, and a team was only as strong as their weakest member. She made her way over to Jessica, who was attempting to punch a bag in the corner.

Four watched Treya and Jessica, through the session. Jessica really seemed receptive to Treya, and Treya fell into the role as trainer very easily. The two had gone from the bag to hand pads, and Treya was demonstrating how to throw body weight into attacks.

With Treya’s help, Jessica had vastly improved in one session, and Four felt much more confident that all his initiates were on track in their training.

He dismissed them for dinner, and they all scurried out.

Treya was content to forgo a heavy Dauntless dinner, and so she steered away from the mess hall. She hadn’t planned on going to Eric’s apartment, but that’s where she ended up. She stood outside his door, unsure of what she would even say if he answered. Her knuckles found the door on their own.

Nothing.

She was just about to give up, shaking her head at her stupid idea, when the door clicked open. Treya looked up in surprise, and then in more surprise at the state of Eric.

He was shirtless, his chest was tight with muscles, as was his stomach, both coated with a fine layer of hair that trailed down below the band of the black sweatpants that hung on his hips. His hair, tousled and out of place, opposite the usual perfectly gelled mohawk he usually sported. His skin was shiny with sweat, and he was barefoot.

His brow furrowed the the sight of her, “what’s up?”

Treya was just about to stutter a response when a female voice from inside the apartment called out “who is it Eric?”

Treya’s mouth snapped shut, and she gave him an awkward smile before awkwardly turning to walk away.

“Treya,” Eric’s voice was firm, and she paused, her back still turned, “wait here.” He shut the door and Treya was left in the hall, wondering if she should really wait or not.

The door clicked open again, and a girl with tousled hair and smeared makeup, wearing an oversized shirt, and carrying a bundle of clothes and shoes, marched out angrily, giving Treya a shove with her shoulder as she passed.

“Treya,” Eric’s voice was softer this time, and she turned to see him standing in the doorway, leaning against the frame. He had put on a black T-shirt, but was still barefoot.

“I’m sorry, I shouldn’t have,” she stammered before Eric interrupted her.

“Hungry?”

Treya’s brow furrowed. She had obviously interrupted a very intimate situation, and here he was, acting like it was nothing and more concerned about her stomach than the awkwardness of it all.

He nodded his head into the apartment and moved out of the way for her to step inside.

She did, awkwardly sidestepping around him. The door to his bedroom was open, the lights off inside, but she could still see his bed and the tangle of blankets on top. Eric had followed her inside, and made his way to the kitchen, instantly setting to work at the stove.

She watched him silently for a while, before swallowing hard and mumbling, “I’m sorry, I shouldn’t have come here uninvited.”

Eric didn’t turn away from the stove, his back to her, “it’s fine.”

“No,” Treya found a bit more strength in her words, “it’s not. You didn’t invite me, and I obviously interrupted you.” She thought about what was going on, but Eric just huffed a slight laugh.

“It was time for her to go anyway.”

It didn’t make Treya any more comfortable.

He turned around, and set a plate in front of Treya. Chicken and broccoli. He then slid a fork across the counter at her, before setting a glass of water down.

She poked at the food awkwardly with her fork, while he stood across from her, eating his own. She cleared her throat, “Four had me work with Jessica today.”

Eric’s brow furrowed, “I’m sure that fight wasn’t hard.”

Treya shook her head, “no, he had me train her.”

“That’s what Four should be doing, not you.” He seemed annoyed, but not with her, “you should be focused on your own training.”

“I am focused,” she looked up at him with a raised eyebrow. “Working with Jessica was interesting. It made me stop and think about what I do in fights, my movements, my thinking.” She shrugged, “and Jessica learned a lot too. She’s fighting better.”

Eric’s brow stayed furrowed as he chewed a bite of chicken, his eyes on Treya, “if Four can’t do his job as trainer, he shouldn’t be having you do it. You’re an initiate, you’re not a certified trainer.” He swallowed, “maybe Four’s training certification needs re-evaluated. I’ll mention it to Max.”

Treya pushed her plate away, “why are you so hard on Four?”

“Because he’s an idiot,” Eric nudged her plate back to her, not satisfied with how much she hadn’t eaten.

“He’s actually really smart, and you know it.”

Eric let out a tsk, setting his plate in the sink, “he hasn’t let go of Abnegation. He’s still just a stiff.”

“Have you let go of Erudite?” Treya snapped in response, not angry but more as a devil’s advocate. “Cause that’s an awful lot of books for a Dauntless.”

Eric shot her a glare.

“He’s no more Abnegation than you are Erudite,” when he continued to glare, she added “come on, why do you really hate him?”

Eric leaned back against the counter behind him, his arms crossed over his chest as he glared at Treya, trying to analyze her. “We never saw eye to eye. We both have very different views of Dauntless, and very different wants for it.”

Treya nodded, waiting for him to go on.

He turned away from her, to clean off the stove, mumbling “he shot me.”

“He shot you,” her statement almost came across as a question as her eyebrows raised in surprise. “That’s not what you do to someone who disagrees with you.” There was more he wasn’t telling her, and she knew it.

He sighed, his body tense and his back still to her, “our vision for Dauntless was so vastly different, that our actions resulted in us trying to kill each other.”

Treya sat back, her arms crossed her chest as she thought about what he said and waited for him to go on.

“He and his girlfriend are divergent. We were on opposing teams.”

It made more sense, Eric hunted divergents, which means he had hunted them. Four probably shot him out of self defense, but Eric seemed to not want to discuss it anymore, so she didn’t try to confirm.

“I hope I didn’t upset your girlfriend.” She bowed her head, looking down to her half eaten plate.

Eric turned around, his eyes hard and his brow furrowed, “she’s not my girlfriend.”

Treya shook her head slightly “friend, then.”

“I don’t date,” his voice was cold and hard, and Treya wondered why he seemed so defensive.

Her eyes met his, “neither do I.”

——

“Alright listen up,” Eric’s voice echoed through the training room, “tonight at nine sharp, you are to be on the train, dressed in your training fatigues.”

“What’s going on?” Oliver asked, a wide grin across his face.

“Field trip,” Eric snapped, “and I’ll drop ten points from each person who’s late.” He almost growled, causing the smile on Oliver’s face to fade slightly.

He dismissed them for dinner, and they all hurried out. Eric snagged Treya’s arm as she passed him. “You want dinner?”

She didn’t respond, her eyes darting from his hand, clasped firmly around her upper arm, to his face.

“Bring your fatigues, you can get ready at my place.” He let go of her before walking away.

Her brow furrowed, unsure of why he seemed so adamant that she get ready at his apartment. She shook her head. Eric’s dinners were always preferable to the ones from the mess hall, and if getting ready there meant she didn’t have to suffer through a heavy meal, so be it. She grabbed her water bottle, and headed out of the training room, towards the barracks.

“How come we never see you at dinner?” Alex, the feisty Candor girl, with choppy black hair, pulled back into a ponytail, asked as Treya made her way to her bunk.

Treya shrugged, “don’t care much for Dauntless food,” she mumbled.

“Well you might as well get used to it. There’s no doubt you’ll make it into Dauntless,” Benny, the jokester of the initiate group, and always blunt with his remarks, flopped down on Treya’s bed, as both he and Alex watched her. “Besides, you gotta eat.”

Treya eyed him, “I eat.” She knelt down and slid her trunk out from under the bed. Each initiate had a trunk they could keep their belongings in. After initiation, they would be assigned apartments, and could keep more belongings than a trunk full. Most initiates had filled their trunks with clothes and snacks and souvenir type goods, but Treya’s just held her Dauntless issued clothes and her old factionless ones. She pulled out her fatigues, and shut her trunk.

“Where do you go for dinner then?” Benny asked suspiciously.

“Out,” was all Treya snapped, but when he and Alex seemed to not be satisfied, she added “away from people.”

“Once an outcast, always an outcast,” Michael announced from across the room, making his friends snicker.

Treya ignored them, shoving her trunk back under her bed.

Michael made his way over to her, “you’re never going to fit in here. No one wants you here anyway, so why don’t you go back to your little factionless friends?”

The smirk across his face annoyed Treya, but she continued about her business, folding her fatigues neatly.

Michael reached out and shoved Treya’s shoulder, “What are you deaf now? I’m talking to you, Stitch!”

Treya turned, instantly putting herself nose to nose with him, her eyes dark and warning, “my score is proof enough that I fit in here, or did you forget who’s ranked first?”

His eyes narrowed, “no one wants you here. You’re everyone’s enemy. You’re the one everyone wants to take out. The factionless girl who thinks she’s so much better than everyone else, but you’re just some Frankenstein monster who should watch her back,” he growled.

“Leave her alone,” Alex groaned.

Michael turned to Alex, the smirk across his face growing, “you lost your brother in the riots, didn’t you?” When Alex’s face dropped, he continued, “she’s Evelyn’s pet, you honestly think she’s innocent in all this?”

All eyes turned to Treya, and her own eyes met each and every one, daring any of them to try her. Her eyes finally landed back on Michael, “you want the top spot? Come and get it,” She snarled.

No one moved.

“Didn’t think so,” she growled, picking up her fatigues and walking off.

——

Treya had just clicked the door behind her when Eric suggested, “you can take a shower if you want.”

She froze, watching him as he hovered over a sizzling skillet on the stove.

He glanced over his shoulder at her, then took a double take, noticing her wide eyed confusion, “what?” When she didn’t respond, he added, “figured you’d want to before war games.”

She composed herself quickly, “war games?”

He nodded, shaking the skillet a bit, “final test of the first stage of training.”

She didn’t respond, making him glance back at her.

“Door straight ahead, bathroom’s on the left,” when she didn’t budge, a smirk crossed his face, “if you need help, you’ll have to wait until after dinner.”

Her cheeks flushed, and she quickly walked to the far door, trying to hide him from seeing her embarrassment.

His bedroom was monochromatic in greys and whites. There was a dark grey rug on the white tile floor, and a large bed with muted grey blankets and pillows. A small black nightstand stood on either side of the bed, and a matching back dresser sat on the wall to her right. To her left was the open bathroom door, and an open doorframe next to it that led to a walk-in closet.

Everything was neat and tidy and in its place.

She stepped into the bathroom, flipping the light switch on the wall. The bright white lights flashed on, lighting up the white bathroom. The only offset to the brightness was the black vanity with steel knobs, and the black tiled shower in the corner.

She clicked the bathroom door shut behind her, and opened the glass shower door. She fiddled with the shower knob a moment, finding the right temperature, and then shimmied out of her clothes, grateful for the privacy behind a closed door.

Treya stepped into the hot water, her body relaxing as the water pounded her shoulders. She dipped her head back, letting the water wash through her short hair. Eric’s shampoo smelled clean. It wasn’t overly scented like most men’s shampoo, and Treya figured it could be much worse, given she had no other shampoo option. She worked it into her scalp, letting the water fall onto her chest as she lathered her hair.

The hot water fogged up the glass shower door, and Treya found herself content to just stand under the water, eyes closed. She hadn’t heard the knock on the bathroom door, but when she opened her eyes again, there was a hazy form moving on the other side of the foggy glass. She gasped in surprise, turning her body away to hide, “what do you want?” Her voice was a lot more angry that she’d meant.

The form crouched down at the sink for a moment before standing back up again. “I didn’t think you knew where the towels were, and you didn’t answer when I knocked.” Eric’s voice was smooth and even, and if he had noticed her anger, he hadn’t reacted.

Treya turned off the water, and the glass door cracked open slightly as Eric’s hand slipped in with a towel. She took it awkwardly, noticing how he turned his head away to give her some privacy. Quickly, she wrapped herself in the towel, and opened the glass door further.

Eric turned to her, giving her a quick look over, “food’s ready.”

She nodded, her hair dripping water down to the floor.

Eric gave her another quick look over before leaving her alone to get dressed.

She was quick to towel herself off and slip into her fatigues. She rubbed the towel over her hair before running her fingers through it to tame it down. When she emerged from Eric’s bedroom, he was sitting on the couch, plate in hand.

He looked up at her and scooted over on the couch. He set his plate down on the coffee table in front of him, next to a second plate.

Treya sat next to him, looking at the plate before her. A fillet of pink fish sat on a bed of dark green lettuce. A hard boiled egg sat between the fish and a scoop of small red and brown balls. She recognized the red ones as little tomatoes, but the brown ones were foreign to her. A sliced green avocado was neatly fanned out opposite the egg.

At her hesitation, Eric mumbled “chickpeas” before picking up his plate again, and stabbing at the fish.

They ate in silence. The chickpeas reminded Treya of the beans she used to share with Edgar, but they weren’t quite the same. They tasted more like a nut, but seemed just as filling. Eric’s meals were good, impressive even, but sometimes Treya missed the simplicity of a can of beans, shared around a fire and passed among friends.

“So what do war games entail?” Treya asked through her last bite of food, as she set the plate back down on the table.

Eric smirked and shook his head, “can’t let you get a leg up on the competition.”

“I don’t need a leg up.”

“You sure don’t,” Eric huffed in amusement. “You’ll find out when we get on the train.” He stood, picking up both plates and walking them to the kitchen.

Treya took a moment to adjust her boots before standing and following him to the kitchen.

He quickly cleaned the plates and set them aside to dry. When he turned around, he found her watching him. With a smirk, he tugged his shirt up over his head and off his body.

Treya forced herself to keep her eyes on his, but his teasing smirk only dared her to glance down. She didn’t need to look to know he had rock solid abs, and a toned chest. She had felt his muscular form every time his body pressed against her when they sparred. Although she wanted to, and his smirk urged her, she knew if she looks, she wouldn’t be able to hide the red in her cheeks.

He watched her a moment, his smirk never fading. “Give me a moment to change,” he flashed her a quick smile before making his way to the bedroom.

It wasn’t long before he re-emerged, dressed in fatigues that matched Treya’s. He quickly made his way to the door, ushering Treya out into the hallway, then led her through Dauntless and out to the train tracks.

Other initiates, both transfers and faction born, appeared in groups, and it wasn’t long before they could feel the ground vibrate as the train neared. The group was quick to start running as the train rushed past them, everyone taking their turn to jump aboard. Treya was faster than Eric, but he managed to pull himself into the boxcar right after her.

When it seemed that all the initiates had made it aboard, Four shouldered his way through to the center of the car, where Eric and Treya stood. “The game is simple,” he started, his loud voice hushing the chatty initiates, “just like capture the flag.” He pulled two large neon yellow cloths from a duffle bag he had tossed to the floor.

Eric reached down to the bag, pulling out a long thin red and black gun. It was smaller than what Dauntless usually used. He held it up for the initiates to see, “weapon of choice.”

There were a couple snickers, as the gun was not intimidating at all.

“Is that supposed to scare us?” Michael was quick to comment.

Eric rolled his eyes, and aimed the gun at Michael’s head. “You want to test how powerful it is?”

Michael stilled, the barrel only inches away from his forehead.

It was Eric’s turn to smirk, “neurostim dart. Not deadly, unfortunately, but it’ll make you wish you were. It triggers the pain of a real gunshot. Effects wear off after thirty minutes or so.” He leaned closer to Michael, his voice lowering and almost hissing, “sure you don’t wanna try?”

Michael eyed Eric, concern creeping into his gaze. He wasn’t sure Eric wouldn’t just shoot him.

In the past, he would have, but that was before. Before the uprising and the riots, and before Dauntless was expected to act like team players. Eric pulled the gun away from Michael. “Two teams, Four and I are captains.”

“You pick first,” Four knew Eric always went after the biggest and strongest, while he went after the smallest, who were usually easier to hide, and faster.

This time, Eric surprised him, “T.”

Treya glanced at Eric. She was smaller than most initiates, but she was fast, and powerful.

Four nodded his head, he wasn’t too surprised. Eric had taken a special interest in her, despite her small stature. “Alex.”

“Michael.”

“What?” Michael protested, his glare darting to Treya, “you expect me to be on a team with her?”

Eric’s eyes darkened in warning at Michaels protest, “it give you two some quality bonding time.”

Michael continued to protest, “I’m not working with factionless scum.”

Eric stepped nose to nose with Michael, ready to knock him back into place, when Treya snapped at both of them.

“Dauntless value teamwork. Guess you aren’t Dauntless enough to play as a team.”

Michael glared at her, but he didn’t argue.

Eric smirked, and Four picked another initiate.

Chapter Text

“Listen up,” Eric’s arm rose to the air as he motioned for his team to huddle in, and the initiates were eager to do so. “We need a solid plan.”

Initiates started blurting out ideas in hushed voices.

Eric rolled his eyes at most of the ideas.

“No wait, that could work,” Treya interrupted, pointing at a Dauntless born with spiked black hair. Her eyes caught Eric’s, “a moving target. Hide the flag on someone.”

“Who put you in charge?” Michael hissed, making the other initiates quiet down, their eyes darting between him and Treya.

Treya returned Michael’s hard gaze, “do you have a suggestion?”

“Yeah. Split into two groups, an offense and defense.”

Treya’s brow furrowed as she thought, “I like it.” She looked around at the others, “I suggest we do both, we split into offense and defense, and hide the flag on one person.”

“It’ll be obvious, if half of us are protecting one person,” Michael argued again.

“So we hide it on someone in offense,” Treya’s eyes darted to Michael. “Someone who’s good, not going to get shot and give it away. Someone who wants to win.”

“You don’t get to make the plan and carry the flag,” Michael hissed, “where’s that Dauntless teamwork?”

Treya’s eyes fell onto Eric’s, “I was actually thinking Eric would carry it.”

Eric’s eyebrows raised in surprise, “you did?” He thought about it a moment, “ok.”

Treya looked back at Michael, “any objection?”

Michael shrugged, “at least we won’t lose.”

They split into two groups. Eric practically demanded Treya be on offense with him, and Michael volunteered himself onto offense with them. The two groups got into position.

A gunshot rang out, signaling the start of the game.

Eric, Michael, Treya, and the spiked haired Dauntless born, Jac, were off; the neon flag tucked safely into Eric’s vest, out of sight.

“What’s the plan for finding their flag?” Eric growled in a hushed voice.

“Where does he usually hide it?” Jac whispered, hoping Eric would give them a clue.

Eric shook his head, “that’s up to initiates to figure out.”

Treya thought for a moment, her brow furrowing. She looked around at her teammates. They were all strong, big and fearless. What they weren’t was agile. Their big frames slowed them down.

Her head snapped to her right. There was an old maintenance shaft at the far edge of the city. It was once used for maintaining the underground electrical wires for the city’s now abandoned and dilapidated fairgrounds. It was a tight squeeze, and would be nearly impossible for her teammates to wiggle their way into.

“T?” Eric growled, his head snapping in the opposite direction as he heard rustling nearby.

“The old maintenance shaft.”

He furrowed his brow at her, then back to the rustling, aiming his gun.

“Follow me,” she darted, and Eric sent a shot into a nearby bush, before following her.
There was a loud groan from the bush.

The three followed Treya as they darted through the brush and rubble of the city’s edge. She had to keep reminding herself to slow down so they could keep up with her. Eric was able to stay on her heels, but the other two grew winded after a while.

“How much further?” Jac asked, huffing.

“What makes you think it’s even going to be there?” Michael snarled, but huffed just as much at Jac.

She turned, “Look at the three of you. What do you all have in common?”

“The fact that we’re blindly following the stupid theory of a factionless?”

She rolled her eyes at Michael, “You’re all big guys.” She turned and continued without further explanation.

Shots fired, and Eric and Jac quickly took cover in the brush to the right, and Treya and Michael to the left. Treya grabbed the back of Michael’s vest, and dragged him backwards as a stim dart barely missed him. She looked over at the other two. They were stuck.

“Cover me,” she mouthed to Michael, before slipping around to the left in a wide circle.

They ducked under the brush again, spotting two members of Four’s team, shooting at Eric and Jac. Treya aimed for the opponents, quickly taking out one then the other.

Eric and Jac made a run for it, more shots following them. Jac’s body tensed and fell as he was hit; a loud groan escaped his mouth. Eric’s body dropped too, as he tried to grab and drag Jac.

“Cover me!” It was more of a demand this time as she stood and ran directly for Eric and Jac. She heard Michael swear behind her, unhappy about how demanding she was. She aimed past Eric and fired. There had to be multiple shooters, as stim darts seemed to come from multiple directions.

There was yelling. First it was distant, almost completely masked by Jac’s howling as Eric dragged him. Then it grew as Four’s team slowly appeared. Treya continued to fire. “Leave me,” was Jac’s last howl, as he started to fire at the emerging opponents.

Where the hell was Michael? He was supposed to be covering her, but he was nowhere to be found. Treya wasn’t too surprised by his absence.

Eric dropped Jac, leaving him to fire away at the oncoming forms. He turned and fired a few shots of his own, then turned and ran for Treya. She was far enough away that most initiates wouldn’t be able to accurately hit her, but her own skill allowed her to hit them.

When he grew close enough, he yelled, “where’s Michael?”

“Covering—“ was all she could get out before her breath caught in her throat and her body tensed. A sharp, white hot pain seared up and down her spine, radiating through her. She was hit, in the back.

Eric’s eyes widened as he realized what happened, “Treya!” He thought she would fall to the ground in pain, but she managed to stay upright.

It took every ounce of effort she had to raise her gun and continue firing. Her body screamed at her and she wanted nothing more than to fall to her knees and cradle herself until the pain subsided. She kept firing.

Eric grabbed her and pulled her after him. When they managed to make it to the brush to hide, Michael was nowhere to be found. “He shot you,” Eric growled.

“You can’t prove it,” her voice was shaky.

“He shot you!”

“I know, but you can’t prove it.” She was panting now, as the pain continued radiating through her. “Come on, we’re close,” she stood, wincing as her body tensed and screamed to be still. She glanced to Eric, seeing concern in his eyes, then she turned and ran.

They almost ran past it, and Treya came to a sliding halt. It was a hole in the ground, with a large metal covering. She grabbed the edge of the cover and pulled with all her strength. The pain seared through her, and she let out a whimper as her muscles tensed too much to pry the cover off.

Eric was quick to replace her hands with his own. He seemed to move the cover with ease, but Treya noticed he gritted his teeth slightly. When the cover was out of the way, the two looked down into the dark maintenance shaft. It was a dark, ominous pit, and just as Treya remembered, it was a tight squeeze.

She swung her legs into the hole, but Eric grabbed her arm to stop her.

“You’re not going to fit,” she retorted his silent protest. She slid herself further into the hole, repositioning her arms before squeezing her shoulders in. “Stay safe,” she growled at him, and he lowered himself to hide behind the brush.

“Be quick.”

She let herself slide freely into the hole, and it was only a moment before she used her elbows to stop herself as the bright neon flag slid into reach. She grabbed the flag in her teeth, knowing she would need her hands to climb back out.

The pain from the stim dart was still persistent, but it seemed to be slowly dulling. She slowly inched her way up the maintenance shaft, her body groaned in protest, but she continued. Treya could hear gunshots from above, and it urged her farther. Her own gun was wedged between her back and the cement side of the shaft, pressing the stim dart deeper into her flesh.

Two hands reached in above her and pulled her up and out of the darkness. Eric growled as he ripped her free from the hole, his eyes sparking in excitement as the glow of the flag lit up his face.

There were shouts of excitement and groans as the other initiates quickly realized what had happened and which team had won.

Four jogged toward Eric and Treya and the small crowd that was forming around them, “nice work Treya. Where was your flag?”

Eric reached into his vest and tugged the hidden flag free.

“Ah, a moving target. Smart,” Four nodded in approval.

“That’s not fair,” someone mumbled.

“Now don’t be sore,” Four snapped, “It is fair, you just didn’t figure it out.”

“Head back to the training room to see your final scores for the first half of initiation,” Eric’s voice boomed over the initiates, and they were quick to scurry back towards Dauntless headquarters.

——

Treya hadn’t rushed back the way the other initiates had. She had no real concern for her score. She had continued to rank first, with the other initiates nowhere near her score. Now she was on the winning war games team. There was no reason to be concerned.

Besides, what’s the worst that could happen? She fail initiation and become factionless? She was factionless.

The training room was empty when she got there. The glow of the scoreboard lit the room, and Treya could see it from across the room. Still, she moved closer to it, reading each score; not just her own. She was first, just as she thought, then the Dauntless-born Jac, then Michael. Most of the other transfers ranked towards the middle or lower.

Treya turned and headed out of the room. She decided to take the long way back to the initiate barracks, and past the edge of the chasm.

She could hear the roar of the water as she neared. The stone floor beneath her grew wet and slippery, the closer she got. There was an edge where there was no guardrail, and the ledge was starting to crumble into the roaring water below. She frequently visited this area as she wandered through the Dauntless compound. It was one of the few spots that seemed constantly vacant, and Treya enjoyed the solitude. From here she could see across the chasm. There was a maintenance door on the other side, with a small ledge that ran up the side of the chasm to other maintenance doors. Treya had never seen anyone come or go from them, and she deducted that they were no longer used.

Treya was looking down into the dark abyss of the chasm when she heard the pounding of footsteps approaching quickly. She looked up just in time to see the blur of an initiate she recognized only as a Dauntless-born, hurl himself at her. She braces herself, and their bodies crashed together. Treya twisted, putting her back to the wall and away from the ledge.

He shoved his weight into her, slamming the back of her head into the stone wall behind her. Searing pain shot through her head and her vision blurred for a moment. She tried to grab the man, to stop his assault, but hands grabbed her wrists and pulled them away.

There were hushed grumbles of “get her,” and “hold her” and “just throw her.”

Her vision cleared and she realized it was Nick and Stephen who were holding her wrists while the Dauntless-born punched at her ribs and stomach. Everything in her body tensed as she braced her back against the wall and lifted her legs. She shoved both feet into the Dauntless-born, and thrust with all she could.

He stumbled backwards, and his footing slipped on the wet stone ledge and he slid right over the edge, into the dark abyss below.

——

The maintenance tunnels on the west side of the chasm has been closed for years. An electrical fire long ago had caused their closure, and only recently were efforts placed in cleaning them up to be reopened. Dauntless was growing, and would continue to do so. The compound was going to need to expand.

Eric and Max had put it into motion, and Eric frequented the tunnels to check on the progress. The faint shouting had caught his attention, and he shoved his shoulder into the heavy metal door, to investigate. His eyes darted across the chasm, and his brow furrowed as he tried to make out the unfolding scene.

Five initiates seemed to be fighting, four against one. Eric recognized Ashton Blake instantly, with his neon green hair. His father had died during the uprising. The others, Eric couldn’t make out. At least, not until Ashton’s body doubled over from a blow to the stomach, and then slipped off the edge and down into the dark chasm below. His screams and cry for help were quickly silenced by the rushing water.

It took Eric a second for his brain to comprehend what he just witnessed, but the moment his eyes darted back up to the struggling initiates, his body kicked into gear.

The other three initiates were struggling to drag her to the edge, no doubt in hopes she would follow Ashton to his watery grave. Treya was fighting with all that she could, but the three were slowly creeping her closer.

“Treya!” Eric knew his voice would never reach her over the rushing chasm water, and so he ran up the stone ledge. There was a bridge to the other side; above him. He wasn’t sure if he could make it in time. There was no time to question it. He ran.

Up the slippery stone stairs, around a corner, up more stairs, and again more stairs. Finally the bridge. The bridge was the same one he had once threatened to drop initiates from. The difference was that he never really would have, he just needed initiate to understand that Dauntless never give up; they keep fighting.

Treya was fighting; she wasn’t giving up, but she was outnumbered.

Across the bridge, to the other side, down the stairs, more stairs, around a corner, down more stairs.

There were three initiates now, and they were still, looking over the chasm. They heard his boots thudding as he ran, and they were quick to scatter like cockroaches. He was close enough now that he could make out Michael, Nick, and Stephen, as they slipped around a corner and safely away from him.

Eric came to a stop on the stone ledge. “Treya?” His voice boomed, but there was a subtle concern in it. He looked across the chasm. She wasn’t with the other three. She couldn’t have escaped, they would have followed her. Did she fall? Eric didn’t want to think it, but it seemed to be the only explanation for her disappearance. No one comes back from the chasm. The chasm takes all.

A hand reached over the edge of the wet stone ledge and grabbed Eric’s boot, and he nearly jumped in surprise. “Treya!” Eric reached down and grabbed her hand, helping her climb her way back up onto the ledge.

Her face was flushed, and her breathing was labored as she pulled herself to the safety of the ledge. She stayed on her hands and knees, not ready to stand after almost falling to her death.

Eric pulled her further away from the chasm edge, like a rag doll. He looked her over quickly. Her shirt was ripped, showing red bruises on her sides. Her hands had matching red bruises, and were covered in dirt. Her fingers were bleeding from clawing her way up the side of the chasm. She was shaking. He put a finger under her chin and raised her head to look at him, “look at me.”

She obliged, panting and shaking.

Her lip was busted open, and Eric ran his thumb gently over it, wiping away the blood. A bruise was forming under her left eye, over a bloody cut on her cheekbone.

“How?”

She pulled her face from his hand, “I caught the ledge,” she managed between gasps. He stayed quiet, letting her continue when she was ready, “I just reached out and grabbed the ledge.”

Eric looked her over again, noticing the long red scrape down her forearm. She must of gained it when she stopped her fall. “Those three will be punished,” he growled as a surge of anger coursed through him.

“Why,” Treya almost seemed annoyed as she rolled herself over to sit with her back against the stone wall.

“They pushed you,” he growled, the anger showing in his eyes.

“You don’t know that,” Treya winced as she leaned her head against the wall, “you didn’t see it.”

“I don’t need to,” he snapped at her, and she glared at him.

Her eyes closed slowly as her breathing steadied, “you can’t prove it.”

He growled, but dropped the conversation when Treya finally pulled herself to her feet with a wince.

Treya took a step and winced again.

Eric wrapped an arm around her gently, “come on, let’s get you cleaned up.”

Chapter Text

She sat on the edge of Eric’s bed and watched him pull a first aid kit from under the bathroom sink.

“Let’s see your arm,” he made his way to her, kit in hand. He knelt down at her feet, taking her by the wrist to more closely examine the long scratch down her forearm. He stood again, and retrieved a towel from under the sink, before kneeling back down. He unrolled the towel, holding it just below her arm before flipping open the first aid kit. He pulled a long brown bottle from the kit, and flipped open its lid.

The liquid stung as it trickled across the red scratch, turning it white with a bubbly fizz. Eric set the bottle down, then pulled a gauze patch from the kit, ripping open its packaging in his teeth. Setting the patch aside, he pulled a small round container from the kit. He checked to make sure her arm was no longer dripping before setting the towel aside. Eric unscrewed the lid from the circular container, to reveal a brown oily paste. He selected a flat wooden stick from the kit, and used it to scoop out some of the paste, and smear it across Treya’s arm.

She watched him, her eyes intent on what he was doing. He glanced up at her before picking the patch up and covering the paste-covered scratch with it. “Old Amity remedy. Keeps out infection and promotes skin healing.”

“Amity?”

Eric pulled a rolled bandage from the kit and slowly wrapped it around her arm to keep the patch in place. “Medicine originated from Amity fields. They used the plants to heal. Erudite later used them as the foundation to create the medicine we have now.” He fastened the bandage in place before gathering up the trash and towel, throwing the trash in the bin in the bathroom, and the towel in a hamper in the closet. “How’s that feel?” He nodded to her arm.

She looked down and examined his handiwork, “better. Thank you,” her voice was quiet as she thought about Amity and Erudite. It was weird to think of them working together, but it made sense.

Eric nodded, “why don’t you get some rest.”

Treya glanced up at him, then to the bed she was sitting on, “I’m fine.”

“Rest. Your body needs to heal.”

Treya swallowed hard, “I’m not kicking you out of your own bed.”

Eric huffed in light amusement, as if the thought of her actually forcing him to sleep elsewhere was amusing. He was still stronger than her. “Just rest initiate, it’s not my bedtime yet.” He turned and flicked the lights off on his way out of the room, leaving the door open only a crack.

Treya had no intention of actually sleeping, but his bed was comfortable and she soon found herself curled up and drifting into sleep.

——

It was dark when she woke, save the light peeking through the cracked door.

At some point, Eric had come in and taken her boots off and covered her with a soft gray blanket.

Treya wondered what time it was. How long had she been asleep? Had Eric fallen asleep on the couch? Should she go back to the initiate barracks?

There was a hushed mumble of voices somewhere on the other side of the door. She could identify Eric’s voice immediately, but the other was harder to place.

“I’m still working on her eating habits, but she’s improving. She’s not completely skin and bones anymore,” Eric mumbled.

“So say your reports.” The voice was female.

“She’s still on top of her class, she’s thriving in combat skills. She shows leadership in groups and has even helped improve other initiates.”

“Eric,” the voice cut him off, “I’m not here to discuss the initiate subject.”

Subject? Treya strained to hear, still trying to place the familiar voice.

“Max said you were having pain again.”

“No,” Eric’s voice was firm, annoyed even. “I’m not having pain again. The pain never went away.”

The two were quiet for a moment.

“Max seems concerned.”

“Why,” Eric cut her off. “Pain is nothing I can’t handle.”

“I want to run a few tests.”

“No.” He cut her off again, “I’m done with tests and exams and paperwork and results that never do anything. I handle it.”

“You are not the only one with lasting effects after having the serum. All three of you need more testing and observation.”

A form of blue and blonde passed the crack in the door, and it finally clicked in Treya’s brain. Jeanine.

“Stop by my office tomorrow, otherwise continue working with the initiate subject. You’ve done great work, and I expect to see more in phase two. She’s doing just as well as we hoped.”

The two moved farther away, and Treya couldn’t make out Eric’s response. The door to the apartment clicked open, and then shut again.

——

Treya finally emerged from the bedroom when she smelled food, hours later.

There was a blanket, tossed carelessly on the couch, and Treya realized Eric never came to bed last night. He must have slept on the couch.

Eric was at the stove, and something was sizzling in the pan he was hovering over.

Quietly, she made her way to the counter and perched herself on the stool. She watched him, taking advantage of the fact that he seemed unaware she was there.

He was shirtless again, and the skin across his back was smooth and tight as his muscles flexed as he worked. He was relaxed, and Treya noticed how natural he seemed in the kitchen. She followed his spine, from where it touched his hairline, down between his moving shoulder blades, curving inward at the small of his back, then sneaking between the slow pinch of his hip bones, and dipping under the band of his sweatpants.

He reached for the refrigerator, catching a glimpse of her out of the corner of his eye, and glanced back at her a second time, as if surprised to find her there.

He pulled a carton of white liquid from the fridge, and set it on the counter next to him; his back still to her. “See something you like, initiate?”

Treya didn’t respond, but her eyes darted away from him, and her cheeks flushed momentarily. She was glad his back was turned, and she focused on the far door, next to the bedroom, until she felt the heat fade from her face.

He slid a plate in front of her, and her eyes darted to it, still not wanting to look at him.

There was a circular red colored meat, and a fluffy yellow pile of something Treya had only learned was a kind of egg, since coming to Dauntless.

“Breakfast.”

Treya just stared at the plate.

“You don’t usually eat breakfast, do you?” Eric wasn’t surprised. She was usually in the training room before him in the mornings, and the mess hall wasn’t open that early. Dauntless were usually night owls, and not early risers.

“Eat. Your body needs fuel to heal.” He picked up the carton next to her, and filled a glass halfway with the white liquid before setting it next to the plate.

Treya huffed, “you act like I’m dying. It’s just a scrape.” She looked down at her bandaged arm.

He slid around the counter, and perched himself on the stool next to her, unnecessarily close. “I’m not concerned about your arm.” His eyes never left hers, but she knew where his mind was.

She shifted uncomfortably, putting more distance between the two of them.

“You’ve been through a lot of trauma, and your body still isn’t healed from it all.”

She pulled the plate a bit closer, debating whether she should eat to appease him or not. “Permanent damage doesn’t heal, Eric,” she mumbled.

He sighed, “your body is awkwardly compensating.”

She shot him a glare.

He returned the look, “I see you limping by the end of practice. I see you protecting your left shoulder during fights, and I see how you walk through Dauntless.”

Her brow furrowed at the last statement.

“Pressed to the left side because you can’t see,” he almost sounded annoyed. “Not to mention I can feel your hip grinding and your shoulder popping every time we spar.”

Her jaw clenched and she picked up the fork before stabbing at the fluffy yellow pile. Out of the corner of her eye, she saw him smirk.

He let her eat in silence, and excused himself to the shower.

When she had finished eating, she scraped the remaining food into the trash can below the sink, and then scrubbed her plate clean.

She wandered over to his bookshelves again, admiring his collection. Factionless could only dream of having such personal belongings. Everything belonged to everyone there.

She glanced towards the bedroom door. She could still hear the water running. Her eyes shifted over. The other door was closed, and she had never seen it open. Eric had never invited her into that room. Curiosity egged her on.

The door was unlocked, and she quietly slipped in. Her hand slid across the wall until she found a light switch, and the light above her flicked on.

Treya had once assumed it was a bathroom, but when she had used the one in Eric’s room, she assumed this must be a spare bedroom. But why would he have not slept in here last night?

Her eyes darted to the right side of the room. There was a small couch, seemingly untouched, pressed against the far right wall, and perpendicular to a desk. The desk was stark white, with a thin silver computer, laying in the center, its top closed. Next to it sat a file folder.
Treya took a step closer. This must be Eric’s home office. Her eyes fell to the folder, and her brow furrowed. Her name was printed on the folder.

Treya could rationalize initiates having files, possibly containing information on their training progress. But why would her’s be here, in Eric’s apartment? There were no other initiate files on his desk. Just her’s.

Without thinking, her fingers found the edge of the folder and she flipped it open. Her vitals were on the first page; her age and birth date, her height and weight, her muscle mass, even her hair and eye color. She flipped the page. The second page was heavy with ink, and a quick skim told Treya it was a detailed report of her life with her father and brother. The third page detailed her involvement in the factionless uprising and riots. The fourth page was more interesting.

Subject shows high promise: quick learner, fast reflexes, lacks fear of fighting.

She skimmed further.

Subject contains high muscle mass but low overall weight. Subject refuses most food.

Subject lacks socialization. Subject keeps personal boundaries, not typical of factionless.

She huffed in annoyance.

Subject’s willingness to conform to faction standards is questionable.

Her brow furrowed. Lacks socialization? What was she, an animal? These were reports; weekly reports on her progress and behaviors. The reports weren’t addressed to anyone specifically, but they were all signed by Eric. Why were such detailed reports being kept on her?

Likelihood of Conformity: 50%

What, they wanted her to conform to Dauntless? Sure, just like they wanted all the initiates to conform. The only difference between her and the others was that she didn’t come from another faction. Is that why only her file was here?

In the back of her mind, she always knew there must be some secret reason a factionless was allowed to test and initiate into the factions. Four’s reasoning of it being unfair that factionless children are assigned a damned fate, however true it was, never seemed like a good enough reason for Jeanine and her followers.

The reality, Treya knew, was that the factionless intimidated most factioned members of society. They were strong, and had proven their strength during the uprising.

But then Evelyn was convinced to step down. It wasn’t so bad at first. Evelyn had convinced her son and the others that a factioned society wasn’t a good one. For a while, they agreed. Slowly people fell back into their old habits, and the factions were reestablished.

Treya wondered if this whole thing was just a ruse, intended solely to better control the factionless. And she was just a pawn.

What did Treya want? Did she want to be part of Dauntless? She kind of did. But the factions were so corrupt, and she knew she would never agree with them. But it felt good to feel like she belonged somewhere, and that someone wanted her there. She shook her head, trying to clear the thoughts away.

“Light reading?”

Treya’s attention snapped up to Eric, who was leaning against the doorframe, arms crossed over his chest. The black shirt and pants were hardly noticed as Treya had become so used to the Dauntless fashion and everyone was wearing pretty much the exact same thing. His hair was slicked back in its usual fashion, and his eyes, though dark and hard, were not angry.

She flipped the file closed, ignoring his question, and made her way to him. When she tried to sidestep past him, he moved in front of her and blocked her path. She glanced up at him, almost surprised to find a hint of curiosity flash across his face.

“Was it at least a good read,” his voice was almost mocking.

Treya’s eyes hardened, “yeah, real page turner.”

He huffed in amusement, but didn’t move. “Do you typically go through other people’s stuff?”

She took a step back, her body tensing in annoyance, “I’m sorry, kind of confusing since it has my name on it.”

“You have no business even being in this room,” he growled, defensive of her tone.

She shot him a glare, “guess it’s the factionless in me. No personal boundaries and all.” She shoved herself against his shoulder and past him, unsure if she caught him off guard or he let her past.

“Every initiate has a file,” he sighed as he watched her putz around for a moment, clearly trying to figure out what to do with herself.

“Yeah but their records aren’t in your little personal office, are they?” It was rhetorical. She knew they weren’t here.

Eric straightened, “I’m your instructor, it’s my job to have your file on hand.”

Treya’s eyes widened, but not in fear or surprise. It was anger that filled them. She had wanted so badly to believe that this whole thing was really forged in good intentions, but it wasn’t. She was being closely monitored for conformity because someone wanted to control her.

In large strides, she was in Eric’s face, and he seemed surprised by her abrupt charge. Her eyes were wide, hard with a dangerous anger, “Yeah, but why me? Huh,” she snapped. “Why am I the special one?”

“You’re more adva-“

“I’m not your little pet,” she spat, cutting him off. “I don’t give a shit what my rank is. I was sought out before anyone knew I would add up to anything.”

He was quiet. His eyes were hard and glaring.

“You want conformity? You want me to conform to your little Dauntless army, and fall into rank and file?” She huffed, “you Dauntless are all the same; too stupid to think for yourself.”

She turned, and stormed out of Eric’s apartment, wondering if he flinched as the door slammed behind her.

——

The cool breeze almost stung as it hit Treya’s face. Her short hair whipped about her head each time a gust blew. Nights were getting colder as winter was slowly creeping in. She was used to being cold. She was used to huddling with fellow factionless, as close to a small fire as feasibly possible. But now she was alone, and she hugged her knees to her chest as she sat on the edge of the rooftop.

She had debated about tracking down a group of factionless, just to be around someone who was like her, but she knew her Dauntless training uniform would make them leery. Perhaps they weren’t so much like her. Not anymore.

So she had found a deserted building, or at least, the dilapidated shell of what was once a building. The solitude suited her, it seemed. Her eyes scanned the crumbling distant buildings, the tall Merciless Mart of Candor, the Hub, and the glowing Erudite headquarters, just beyond. Her eyes lowered, somewhere down lower, blocked from view by the taller buildings surrounding it, was the train station; a place Treya was more familiar with than anywhere else.

Directly below her, over the crumbling edge of the rooftop she was sitting on, were more empty and abandoned buildings. It was hard to believe that at one point, the city was vibrant and alive, without crumbling skyscrapers and boarded up windows and darkness. To imagine every building, pristine and packed with busy people was almost unthinkable. The city had been a wasteland for years.

Treya’s mind drifted back to the file. It irked her that she was being used, but she couldn’t deny how the reports were right.

She remembered her fight against the Dauntless man Gregory. He was bigger, stronger, and had more Dauntless training than her. She ended the fight with a move that her trainers hadn’t taught her; one she learned as a factionless. She remembered how Four looked at her disapprovingly on the first day of training, when she blocked him quickly and with force, instead of slowly to demonstrate to others. She remembered how annoyed he was when she had knocked out a couple of Stephen’s teeth. She certainly wasn’t afraid of a fight, and definitely caught on quickly.

She remembered Four’s remark about how little she had on her plate. She remembered all the times Eric gave her his apple at lunch, and how many times he cooked meals for her, to ensure that she ate. It’s true she was thinner than the others, but she was all muscle. It wasn’t her fault Dauntless food sucked.

She was never really close to anyone. Edgar and Evelyn were the only two among the factionless that she trusted wholeheartedly. It wasn’t that she wasn’t social. She just didn’t trust anyone. Why bother getting close to someone if you don’t trust them? Realistically, everyone has personal boundaries, some just have farther boundaries than others. Since factionless had to share literally everything they had with one another to survive, it wasn’t uncommon for faction-lovers to think they didn’t understand personal space.

It was true, Treya didn’t want to conform and become the mindless meathead soldier that was the Dauntless members. Secretly she was uncomfortable with the fact that the likelihood of her conforming was so high. She would rather prove that the factions were wrong, that they were only as good as their negative traits. For so long, Evelyn and the other factionless had lived with these beliefs, and were prepared to prove them. Treya was still prepared.

There was a time, before she was naive enough to believe that society could change, that Evelyn would have used Treya to infiltrate into Dauntless and take control from within the faction. It would be the smart thing to do, but once again Evelyn was naive and believed her son’s excuse. Probably because it hurt her too bad to believe he had negative intentions.

Treya couldn’t be blind like Evelyn. The factions were wrong. They were weak. They were unfair. If Evelyn couldn’t put her faith in her son aside and see the cold reality of what was going on, Treya would have to. Evelyn always counted on Treya to make decisions and take action when she couldn’t. This was no different. Treya could easily infiltrate into Dauntless; she was already halfway there. And if Jeanine’s promise was true, once Treya was successfully part of Dauntless, other factionless could infiltrate too.

The factionless had lost the battle, but the war was still waging on.

——

Eric was tense with annoyance. Jeanine had been poking him and sticking electrodes on him to run whatever tests she seemed to need. If there was anything concerning about his results, she never alluded to it.

He peeled off the last electrode from his chest when she asked “the pain you’re having, is it a throbbing pain? Or more sharp?”

“Sharp. Sometimes it feels like I’m being shot all over again.”

Jeanine nodded, noting his response on her tablet. “You said it’s constant.”

Eric sighed. “It’s usually a duller pain that is easy to ignore.”

“And when you can’t?”

Eric glared at Jeanine, “I handle it.”

Again she tapped her finger on her tablet.

“The others feel it too?”

Jeanine didn’t look up, “Yes.” After a moment she glanced up at him, realizing he wanted more information. “It is not surprising that you’re still having pain. Even the divergent is having pain.”

“Yeah well, it’s a little more than inconvenient,” he grumbled.

Jeanine straightened defensively. “It’s a new serum, and therefore new science. We are exploring the side effects as quickly as possible.”

He huffed, “you mean you don’t have it all worked out yet? I’m surprised Jeanine, you’re usually more prepared.”

Her jaw clenched slightly, but she otherwise remained unmoved. “If you’d have done your job as a Dauntless soldier, the divergent and her little friends wouldn’t have managed to dismantle our friends at the Bureau and destroy all their records of the serum.”

The two glared at each other momentarily, before Jeanine added, “I want you to let me know if the pain comes back.”

Eric huffed.

“When you can’t ignore it.”

He rolled his eyes and grabbed his shirt before standing and pulling it over his head.

“Eric,” when he paused to look at her she cautioned, “the sixth faction serum is the most powerful we have seen. Do not hesitate to inform me of any changes.”

Eric tugged his shirt down over his stomach and grabbed his jacket. He hated being her lab rat, but there were only three possible people she could use, and he was her favorite. She despised Tris Prior, the divergent who, Eric felt, was to blame for the crumbling factions and factionless uprisings. He didn’t care much for her either. She was a short fuse, impulsive, and Eric felt that she thought of herself better than non-divergents.

The only other option was Tori, and she wasn’t so reliable after her brother refused to come back to the city when the factions reformed. She was quiet and colder, and when she wasn’t working in the tattoo parlor, she was in her apartment, drinking.

Eric was Jeanine’s logical choice out of the three. He had been the first to receive the serum; one that was meant for a sixth faction, and called the “survival serum” because of its powerful effects on those near death or very recently deceased. The Bureau, an establishment beyond the city walls, who were the reason for the city’s isolation and complete existence, had been feeding Jeanine information that was vital to the growth of Erudite and key to keeping the city orderly. The Bureau was responsible for the vast majority of Jeanine’s all-knowing knowledge, and had given her an early version of the survival serum for her to experiment with and perfect.

Jeanine was right. Tris and her band of misfits had completely destroyed the Bureau and their records, and Jeanine never received vital information on the survival serum. All Jeanine knew was that it could quickly reverse death because of its extreme healing properties, and that it was meant to be a serum for a sixth faction, now known as the factionless.

Eric tugged his jacket on, and slipped out of Jeanine’s lab with a furrowed brow and completely lost in thought. The pain in his head was growing.

——

Treya had avoided the Dauntless compound all day. She had snuck out early in the morning, and found herself piddling around abandoned parts of the city, thinking of herself as a Dauntless, as a factionless, and as a spy. Factionless would always hate the factions, and they would always hate Dauntless more than any other. If she could get the Dauntless to trust her, she could gather more intel and feed it to Evelyn. Maybe it would help Evelyn snap back to her senses as their leader.

It was dark now. Night had crept up slowly, and Treya wandered in the shadows until the moon was high in the sky. The others should be asleep by now.

She made her way back to the compound, and down into its quiet depths. It was dark, and quiet other than the faint rushing water that echoed through the stone halls. The barracks were quiet too, and the others never stirred when she slid out of her uniform and into a loose shirt. Treya curled up on her bed and it wasn’t long before sleep caught her.

Her sleep was restless, and her dreams transported her to times she wished she could forget; a time of hands on her, grabbing her, holding her down, touching her. A time when sinister whispers filled her ears, and humiliating snickers echoed through her. It seemed so close, so real. Treya wanted to fall away from it, to fade out of existence and dissipate into thin air. Instead, she fell into reality, and her brain jolted awake. But the nightmare was still there.

Hands held her to the bed, and covered her mouth so tightly she thought she would suffocate. There was a weight on her hips, and as her eyes adjusted into wakeful clarity, Michael’s sneering face filled her view, a glistening sharp knife in hand, as he straddled her.

“Well well well,” he hissed, his voice just above a whisper. “You’re a little far from the chasm, where I last put you.” His smile widened as Treya struggled against Nick and an older Dauntless boy, who each pinned her arms to the bed. Stephen pressed his hand over her mouth even harder, and she struggled to breathe.

“Brian here isn’t too happy you sent his brother into the chasm,” Michael snickered.

“You killed my brother,” it was almost as much of a question as it was rage, as if he didn’t know it was Treya who sent him over. His huge fist slammed into the side of her head, and a white hot pain shot through her skull.

Her eyes widened. She was trapped, unable to scream for help or wiggle free of them.

Brian was ready to continue his assault, but Michael stopped him with a flash of his knife. “Let’s show Brian why we shouldn’t give you the same fate, Stitch.” He slid the knife under Treya’s shirt, and up to her neck. The worn fabric easily ripped open against the blade, and fell to reveal her bare body.

The boys snickered quietly, and Michael lightly slid the tip of the knife across Treya’s bare chest.

“What the hell?” Brian almost pulled away in disgust and Treya couldn’t tell if he was disgusted by Michael’s actions, or her bare body.

“Ain’t she just a freakish little factionless whore?” Michael hissed, “always have been, haven’t you?”

Treya thrashed, trying to break free. She braced her feet on the bed and tried to buck her hips to knock Michael off of her.

“Stupid bitch!” Stephen let go of her mouth only to slam his fist into the side of her jaw as she gasped for air. “Hold still!”

The others laughed as Stephen slapped her across the face repeatedly, and Michael’s hands fondled her chest.

“Hey!”

Treya recognized Eric’s voice, but her head hurt too much to fight back. She barely opened her eyes in time to see Eric’s massive form slam into Michael, and knock him off of her.

The others were jolting awake with the commotion, and it was enough of a distraction that Treya was able to rip her arm free from Nick, and jam her fingers into the soft center of Brian’s throat in one swift motion.

Brian’s breath caught in his throat and he released her other arm. As soon as he let go to grab his own throat, Treya reached for the sides of Stephen’s head, and brought him down on her knee. Nick backed away from Treya before she could grab him, and the pain in her head prevented her from pursuing him further.

Treya covered her chest with her arms and rolled to one side, spitting blood on the floor, watching Eric pummel Michael.

The others were awake now, watching in horror. Stephen and Nick had vanished, knowing trouble was coming their way. Brian was pulling on Eric, “get off of him man!”

Eric finally let go. He stood over the bloody Michael, his eyes murderous, his chest heaving as he tried to catch his breath. All eyes were on him. He spat on Michael, who was almost unrecognizable under all the blood. Eric glanced around the room, “well since you’re all awake so early, why don’t you get down to the training room? Don’t think that just because you passed you don’t have a long way to go,” he growled.

The others quickly started to get dressed and hurry out of the barracks.

Eric grabbed Brian by the sleeve, “get this one to the infirmary. And don’t think for a second that I won’t take this to your superior.” He shoved Brian away, and watched momentarily while Brian peeled Michael off the floor.

Treya had sat up, and was attempting to pull her trunk from under her bed, when Eric walked over to her.

“Stay,” he demanded softly, grabbing hold of her trunk and pulled it from under the bed. He pulled out a black shirt and her training pants. He pushed her trunk back under the bed, and held her shirt over her head to help her.

She glanced around the room, seeing them alone as the last initiate scurried out of the room, she glanced up at Eric, uncomfortable about being so bare in front of him.

“You forget I’ve seen you,” his voice was hushed and gentle.

“Not like this,” her own voice came out in almost a squeak as the pain in her head fired through her skull.

He sighed and turned his head, letting her pull the shirt over her body. He then slid the pants over each foot, and helped her stand.

Her body wobbled, as her head started to spin. She balanced herself with her hands on his shoulders until he slid the pants to her hips and held her steady.

“You need to go to the infirmary,” her eyes were closed so she couldn’t see the concern in his, but she could hear it in his voice.

“I’m not going there.”

He knew she didn’t want to be around Michael, and she didn’t want to seem weak, but her head had taken quite a beating. “Can you walk?”

“I’m not going.”

“Can you walk,” his voice was stern.

Treya sighed, took a small step and wobbled, her head still spinning.

“Come here,” Eric mumbled before scooping her into his arms, and carried her out of the barracks.

“Practice,” she mumbled, pressing her head to his shoulder in hopes that it would stop spinning.

“Quit,” he grumbled, “you’re not going.”

Chapter Text

He had set her on the couch when they got to his apartment. From there, he could monitor her and make sure her head injuries didn’t get worse. He had given her two painkillers, and covered her with the soft gray fur blanket he kept on the couch.

She had drifted into sleep, and he woke her every so often to check on her. Each time he placed a hand on her shoulder, she woke with a jolt, flinching under his touch.

He waited to make the call; waited until he calmed down. In his office, while Treya lay curled up on the couch and out of earshot, he called Max.

Max wasn’t happy with the news. He had his eye on Treya for leadership and wasn’t happy that four initiates had attacked her. Eric spared him the details, but he got the hint, and quickly hung up with Eric to seek out Brian’s superior.

Eric would make sure every one of them was punished for their actions. He sat at his desk, mauling over ways to make them suffer, some ways more violent than others, when he heard Treya become restless on the couch. He slipped out of his office to find her sitting upright, “Treya, lay down. Get some rest.”

She shook her head with a slight wince, “I’ve rested enough.”

He sighed, sitting on the long coffee table in front of her. She was stubborn. “Look at me,”

She glanced up at him, but when he put a finger under her chin to get a better look at her, she flinched and pulled away.

He took her by the chin, a bit more forceful, but still careful not to hurt her. Her body tensed under his touch, but he turned her head back and forth to check her eyes. She seemed alert, which was good, but the bruise on her temple was growing darker. He sighed again, bruising on the outside was better than bruising on the inside, but neither were good.

“Still dizzy?”

She pulled away from his hand, “no. Just throbbing.”

He nodded, looking her over again. “They do anything?”

She shifted uncomfortably, “just touched.”

His eyes darkened, “they won’t get away with this.”

She glanced at him quickly, then away “why do you care?” Her voice was quiet.

Eric leaned back, her question echoed in his head. She didn’t deserve what happened. She had never been so competitive that she hurt others. She stood up for those who needed it, never acted as if she was better than someone who wasn’t as skilled, and she never boasted. She sat at the top of her class, but you’d never be able to tell by her demeanor. She had come so far; from the abused child to a fighter, surviving all odds. He admired her determination, and her humility.

“You’re my initiate,” was all he offered her.

She looked away. “It doesn’t matter if they get away with it or not. They’ll just keep trying.”

“You’re a threat to them,” he interrupted. “You’re sitting in the top rank, and they feel threatened by that.”

“They should be,” she growled, her eyes glaring at Eric.

He smirked, “that, right there, is what they need to see. That raw determination and fearlessness.”

She looked away again.

“Give them reason to fear you,” his eyes were murderous, but not at her, rather at his own thoughts of her serving her own justice.

“Fear solves nothing. A leader who leads in fear does not win the war.”

His eyes narrowed as he thought about her words. “They’ve been hitting you in your weak spots, preying on your own self destruction.”

Her eyes darted to him, warning him to be careful with what he said.

“You have a violent past, and you let it weigh on you. Why?”

She narrowed her eyes, confused at his questioning, “my past is nothing to be proud of.”

“Why not?” He was quick to cut her off before her mind could stray too far, “you survived awful, hellish events, and it has made you a very strong and powerful fighter.”

“I just did what I had to to survive,” her voice trailed off.

“You don’t think that’s something to be proud of?” When she didn’t respond, he put his finger under her chin to turn her to look at him. She flinched, but let him continue. “You were stronger than everyone and everything that has tried to kill you. You’ve looked death in the face, and won.”

She pulled away. He was right, and perhaps she should be proud. She just wasn’t used to being that way, “why are you being so nice to me?”

He watched her silently.

“You’re not nice to any of the others. Why me?”

He let out a quiet laugh, “you aren’t responsive to my usual intimidation tactics. You just square up.”

“You’re not used to being nice,” it wasn’t a question.

He looked down, “no. I’m not.”

She glanced back at him, surprised he admitted it.

He smirked at her surprise, “come on T, we both know I’m not a good guy.”

She turned away again, and the smile faded from his face “my own self destruction, huh?” She was ready to change the topic, and was curious about his thoughts.

He nodded, “you’re ashamed of what happened to you, they know it.” He watched her quietly as she mauled over his words, “those scars aren’t something to hide and be ashamed of. Those scars mark the number of battles you’ve won.” She had looked up at him with big, surprised eyes, and he could see the amount of pain she hid behind them. “As far as I’m concerned, you’ve already earned your place here.”

——

Treya emerged from the bedroom the next morning when she smelled food, and found Eric setting two plates on the counter.

“Perfect timing,” he smirked, then took a double take at Treya. She was in one of his shirts, and it hung midway down her thighs. Her legs, pale and scarred, were bare.

She paused when she realized he was looking her over, “I’m sorry,” she stammered, “I didn’t have anything to sleep...”

“It's fine,” his tone was firm and short, and Treya suddenly felt embarrassed. “I’ll send for your things to be brought up.” He had to force himself to stop staring at her, and quickly busied himself with pouring two glasses of juice.

“Brought up?” Treya had made her way to the counter and slid onto a stool. She examined the plate in front of her; a large yellow and white egg sat atop a pile of cubed potatoes, and three slices of avocado.

“You’ll stay here for now.” His back was to her, more to keep from staring at her long, pale legs. “I don’t want to give Michael any thought that he can attack you again.”

She chewed on her lower lip, picking up a fork and poking at the yellow part of the egg, watching it jiggle. Normally she would insist that he not show favoritism, and return to the barracks, but the dull throbbing pain was still in her head, and she was getting tired of getting hurt. “Will you spar with me today?”

He nodded, “sure.”

“I want to keep my skills sharp, even with the physical initiation complete.”

Eric smiled, his back still turned, “That’s a good idea for all the initiates.”

“Is it ok if I’m a little late to practice, though?”

He turned to face her, his brow furrowed in confusion, “got somewhere better to be?”

She shook her head and looked up at him, “just need to take care of some self-destructive habits first.”

He narrowed his eyes, curious as to what she had planned, but he figured he’d let her play it out.

——

It was ten minutes into training, and all the initiates seemed to be smart enough to come to training, despite it not being mandatory. Eric was impressed with the Dauntless-born; they had learned a lot in the past two months. The transfers still had a long way to go, but they had also made a lot of improvements.

Lauren and Four were in the center of the room, discussing initiates and strategies to improve them further. Eric was pacing the room. He tried to look judgmental of the initiates, but his mind was on Treya and what she was up to. He had overheard Michael and his followers talking about her in hushed voices; betting each other whether she dropped out of Dauntless or not. He bit his tongue when he passed, and the thoughts of how best to hurt them filled his head again.

The door clicked open loudly, and all eyes turned to see who was coming in.

Treya stepped into the training room, and surprise filled Eric’s face when he saw her. Her usually humble demeanor had vanished, and in its place, Eric saw that familiar determination and fearlessness. She had new training pants that hugged her muscular legs, and a ribbed tank top that dipped low enough to show her cleavage and the scars that covered her chest and arms. Her hair was cropped short again, like it was when she first transferred to Dauntless, and she quickly slid her feet from her combat boots before making her way to the middle-most sparring ring. She waited silently, her eyes falling on each initiate, daring them to fight her.

Eric watched her, almost in awe at the sudden transformation and her new found confidence. When her eyes fell onto Michael, she kept them there for a long moment, and only looked away when Eric slipped off his boots and stepped into the ring with her.

She turned to him, moving into a fighting stance. He mirrored her, and with the nod of his head, the two clashed together.

The fight was fast. Punch. Block. Punch. Duck. Grab. Shove. Advance. Block. Punch. Block.

The two seemed evenly matched, and neither were holding back. When they came crashing to the floor, Treya on her back and Eric over her, a crowd started to form around them. Eric punched at her head, and Treya blocked easily. He slid between her legs, and she braced her feet on his thighs. Again he punched, his body pushing against her feet and they both slid across the floor as she blocked him. The next punch, she grabbed his arm and pulled him to her. He lost his balance, and she landed a punch to his chin. His hand found her hair, and he gripped it hard. She wrapped her legs around his waist, and landed a jab to his ribs. It knocked him to his side, and she quickly rolled on top of him, straddling his hips. It was her turn to attack, and she punched at his head, but he wrapped his legs over her feet and bucked his hips, sending her toppling to him. He wrapped her arms in his own, pushing her elbows straight, and held her in an arm bar. But her fingers found the soft part under his arms, and she dug them in. He released her, and she landed a jab to his stomach before straightening herself on top of him. He wrapped his arm across her body and shoved her off of him, and onto her back again, but she rolled out of reach before he could pin her down.

Panting heavily, the two stood, and again their bodies clashed together in a fit of attacks and blocks. It wasn’t until Max’s voice echoed through the room that the two pulled themselves apart.

“Eric.”

All eyes turned to Max.

When Treya and Eric had separated he continued “come with me. Both of you.”

Panting, the two slipped their boots on and followed Max out of the training room. Eric fell in line next to Max, and Treya was a few steps behind them. Eric and Max mumbled to each other, low enough that Treya couldn’t quite make out what they were saying.

Max suddenly stopped, and it took two steps before Eric could stop himself. Max turned to Treya, who had abruptly stopped right behind him. “Treya, how are you liking Dauntless so far?”

Her brow furrowed, confused as to where his sudden questioning was coming from.

He ushered her next to him, and the two stepped by Eric, who now fell behind them as they walked. “Your scores for the first stage of training were very impressive. I expect great things out of you during stage two as well.”

Treya kept her brow furrowed, finding nothing to say in response.

“Are you aware of stage two and what all it entails?”

“It tests initiates mentally,” was all she offered.

“Tell me Treya, what is your worst fear?”

She shook her head, not looking at him, her brow still furrowed.

“Many initiates are unaware of their deepest fears. Others believe it is one thing, but it is really another.” He glanced at her, before continuing, “stage two will find your deepest fears, those that are so suppressed in your mind that you may be unaware they even exist.”

Treya nodded, “face your fears and conquer them.”

Max smiled, “I suspect you’ll do just fine.” Max opened the door to his office, and the three of them stepped in. His office was just as sterile as Eric’s apartment. White tile floors, white walls with black file cabinets, and a large black desk in the center. A black leather office chair sat behind the desk, and Max took his place in it. Eric lowered himself in one of the two black chairs that sat in front of the desk. “Have a seat Treya.”

Max nodded to the empty chair to Eric’s left, and the two watched as she cautiously sat.

Max leaned across his desk, resting himself on his forearms. “Treya, it has come to my attention that you have been attacked, not once, but twice, while here at Dauntless.”

Treya shot a glare at Eric, who only returned it.

“I am aware of who was involved in both attacks. My question is, Treya, why didn’t you report it?” Max’s hard gaze was on her.

Treya’s eyes shot away from Max, and she swallowed hard. “It wouldn’t have mattered, sir.” Her words were hard, but she tried to show some respect for the Dauntless leader.

Max shifted back in his seat, “you believe there would not be consequences for their actions?”

“To be honest, I’m not sure what to expect.” Her eyes darted up at him, and she could feel Eric watching her. “There was a time when Dauntless would have said it was my fault I was attacked, that I left myself vulnerable, or that I was asking for it by holding the first rank.”

“Dauntless has come a long way from that mentality,” Max tried to insist, but she cut him off.

“Have they?” She watched Max shift uncomfortably, and she glanced at Eric to see his brow furrow. “I have yet to see proof that things have changed.” She waited, watching the two men absorb her words, “Sir,” her eyes were on Max and she waited until he was focused on her, “I didn’t report either attack, not because I was afraid of being blamed, but because I knew that consequences or not, their behavior wouldn’t change.”

Max’s eyes narrowed as he processed her words, “we have ways to teach lessons, here.”

“No amount of torture is going to change their hatred for me. If anything, it would only fuel it.” She swallowed hard, looking down to her lap, “I have to prove that I’m not someone they should hate; that I’m better to have on their side than the opposing.”

Max nodded, “do you think reporting these attacks would have made you seem weak?”

Treya’s eyes darted back up to Max, “no. It takes a lot of courage to speak up, knowing it will only make things harder.” She glanced at Eric, who was watching her with hard, calculating eyes, then she turned back to Max, “I admire anyone who finds that kind of strength in themselves.”

Max smiled, leaning further back in his chair, and loosely clasped his hands over his midsection, “see, that’s what I like about you, Treya. You don’t act out of fear. Your actions and decisions are carefully thought out.”

Now it was Treya’s turn to furrow her brow.

“You have the mentality that I want here at Dauntless. Especially in leadership.”

“Leadership?” Treya glanced at Eric as he shifted away from her, to lean against the far arm of his chair, his hands folded over his midsection as well, studying her.

“Granted, the offer depends on your final initiation scores, but I am offering you a position on the leadership team,” Max seemed confident in his offer. He had been thinking about this for a while.

Treya turned back to Max, “and what does all that entail?”

Max bowed his head, thinking, “well, you would be enrolled into the leadership training program, where you would shadow other members of leadership. You would sit in on leadership meetings, and assist with basic leadership tasks.” He watched her process the information, “eventually you would apply for a vacant leadership position, and earn the title when the time comes.”

Treya nodded, thinking it over. As part of leadership, she could certainly learn more vital information to feed Evelyn, but the risk of being caught vastly increased. She needed to think it through. “I’ll think about it. After all, it depends on my final score, and stage two of training starts tomorrow.”

Max huffed in amusement, “I doubt stage two will be an issue.”

“We will certainly see,” Treya smiled and her eyes brightened. Her reaction seemed to catch Max off guard and he shifted uncomfortably in his seat. “After all, you said yourself that stage two can reveal fears a person never thought they had.” She stood, her smile fading only slightly. She was done with this conversation, and needed to maul over this decision in privacy. “Is that all? I’m missing valuable training time.”

Max’s eyes narrowed at the disrespect that was laced in her question, but he couldn’t argue that she wanted her training time. He nodded and watched her take her leave in silence. When the door clicked closed, he turned his attention to Eric, who was watching him and waiting for his response. “Interesting character,” he grumbled.

Eric shrugged, amused “she does think things through before making a decision.”

“And your opinion on what her decision will be?”

Eric shifted, taking a moment to think, “I don’t really know. I guess it will depend on how much she wants to be a part of Dauntless.”

“She was promised other factionless would be able to initiate into the factions if she completed initiation. It was part of the deal.” Max’s voice was low.

“The deal was,” Eric corrected, “if she successfully completed initiation of her chosen faction, other factionless-born would be allowed to participate in the aptitude test and choosing ceremony.” He paused before adding, “it did not say she needed to participate in a faction’s leadership.”

Max growled, thinking it over, “is there a question whether she wants to be here or not?”

Eric sighed, “she’s not making any initiative to build relationships with other initiates or Dauntless members. But at the same time, she chose Dauntless. She wouldn’t choose us if she didn’t want to be here.”

Max sat quietly, mauling over the possibilities. “She would be an asset to Dauntless leadership, wouldn’t you agree?”

“If you’re asking me if I believe she has leadership capabilities, the answer is yes. I have no doubt she could be a very strong and influential leader. Do I believe she will be successful as a Dauntless leader? I don’t know.” Eric leaned back in his chair, “she may be what you are looking for in a Dauntless leader, but is she what Dauntless is looking for?”

“Dauntless doesn’t know what it’s looking for. That’s why there’s a leadership team,” Max seemed annoyed with Eric’s questioning. “If we want to repair Dauntless and its reputation, we need people like her leading the way.”

Eric was quiet. There was no use arguing with him. Max wanted to not only build Dauntless into what it once was, he wanted to make the faction even grander. To an outsider, this would seem like a wonderful idea, but Eric knew the pushback from its members, and its tarnished reputation was going to hinder the faction in ways Max wasn’t ready to acknowledge. The only reason Eric was even willing to humor Max on his idea of Treya in leadership was because for the first time, this was Max’s decision and not an order handed down to him from Jeanine.

Eric knew he should hold his former faction leader with a higher respect, and at one point he had. But after the factionless so easily stormed Erudite headquarters, Jeanine seemed to give up her control to Evelyn with very little fight. Eric knew Evelyn had every intention of killing Jeanine once captured, but when the time came, both women emerged from the holding cell. Eric was recovering from his near death experience, and saw the two exchange words outside the door of his recovery room before parting ways. A few minutes later, an Erudite nurse noticed Eric was awake for the first time after his life saving surgery. He was never meant to witness the two women coming to some kind of agreement. Eric had wondered if this whole factionless conversion experiment was Jeanine holding up her end of a deal to spare her life.

In the past, Jeanine had always been honest with him. Growing up, he was her prodigy, and she sent her prodigy to the one faction that she needed to carry out her every command. He was to infiltrate and ensure that when she called, Dauntless came running. Now, he seemed to fall to a mere test subject, as she observed and experimented with him the side effects of the “survival serum.” She no longer seemed to trust him with the details of her plans, and it only pushed him away. If she couldn’t trust him, he couldn’t trust her.

“Eric?” Max’s voice snapped Eric out of his thoughts, “are you alright?”

Eric’s lip curled in the corner like a half-hearted smirk, but he said nothing. He had too much on his mind.

——

Treya did not return to practice. It wasn’t a mandatory practice, since stage two started the next day, but the training room was open to initiates if they so desired.

Treya had too much on her mind to practice. If her plan of feeding information to the factionless was going to work, she needed the factionless to be prepared.

The sun was hot on her face, but the breeze when she ran kept her from breaking out in a sweat. She grabbed for the metal handle of the boxcar, and pulled herself in quickly. Jumping trains was easy.

She took a deep breath to slow her pulse, and looked around the car. Crates of fruits and vegetables were stacked along the perimeter of the car. Sacks of rice and corn were piled in a corner, and metal drums of something or another, were scattered throughout the car.

Another deep breath, “if you’re going to take a bag, the lighter the better.”

There was a quiet laugh as Edgar emerged from the shadows behind the wooden crates. He nodded his bald head as he made his way to Treya, “you remember.”

Treya met his smile with her own. It was the first thing he told her when she had followed him to learn how to steal from the Amity shipments. He had explained that the sacks of rice on the bottom of the pile always ended up absorbing moisture from the other sacks, making the rice mold quickly. The sacks on top, although usually smaller and lighter, yielded more usable food. Edgar had taught her a lot over the years, and she never forgot any of it.

He embraced her in his arms, wrapping her up and pulling her to him in a tight hug. They were quiet, caught in the moment of just being close once again. “How’s the old meathead faction treating ya?” He finally pulled away, giving her a look over, and tugging at her training uniform, “these things are still as ugly as ever, I see.”

Treya laughed. “I’m doing alright, I guess. How’s Evelyn?”

Edgar sighed, “she’s been quiet. Worried about you I suppose.”

Treya nodded, looking down at her boots, “I should go see her.”

“No Treya, you need to focus on Dauntless.” Edgar playfully pawed at her shoulder, “lots of factionless babies need a better life.”

Treya huffed. He was only teasing, but he was right. If she succeeded, other factionless children could have a better life, outside of poverty. Supposedly.

He ruffled her short hair, “what brings you so far from the compound? I know initiates aren’t supposed to be outside unsupervised.”

“Edgar,” Treya looked him dead in the eyes, her own eyes were hard and serious, “I need your help.”

The playful smile slowly fell from his face as she began to explain her plan, and every scrap of evidence she had obtained, that made her believe Jeanine’s plan was deeper than just poor factionless children.

“You really think you can do this and not get caught?” Edgar was worried. Dauntless were ruthless, and if she was found out, there would be no mercy for her.

Treya nodded, “I have to distance myself from being factionless. I have to let them believe they’re conforming me. I know I can do it, I just want your support.” Her eyes locked his; they were begging him for approval.

“You have it.” He was surprised she was looking for his approval. She never needed it before. She had always been so set on being independent, even being so close to Evelyn, she never sought approval from anyone. She had her reasons for doing what she did, and that’s all that mattered to her. Why was this so different? He wondered if she was scared to let herself slip deeper into the faction system.

Her eyes darted away quickly, as if embarrassed she let herself be vulnerable for such a quick second. She moved to the doorway of the car, looking out across the city rubble. “I’ll find a way to get information to you. Tell Evelyn the plan.” She glanced back at Edgar, flashing him a gentle smile before jumping off the train.

She rolled across the broken cement road before pulling herself to her feet. The train had continued to zip on, and she could see Edgar peeking out of the boxcar; just a blip on the train before he was finally too far away to see at all.

Chapter Text

A light above Treya buzzed. It was the only noise in the silent hallway as the initiates waited. 

Treya glanced around. The others were nervous. A few were jittery in their impatience, a couple looked like they were going to be sick. Treya wondered if it was unfair that she knew what was coming. She didn’t know much, just that on the other side of that heavy white door, each initiate would have to face their worst fears.

The door opened, and Four stepped into the hallway. “Michael,” he stood aside to let Michael past him, then shut the door behind them. 

The hall stayed silent for a long while, until Michael re-emerged from the door, his bruised face pale and glistening with sweat. Four followed him out and called for another initiate. Again, the hallway fell quiet. 

Slowly, each initiate took their turn, some taking longer than others, some needing assistance out of the room. When Treya was the last one in the hallway, she sighed and closed her eyes, resting her head on the wall behind her. She wondered what her greatest fear was. It was something she never really thought of. She never really allowed herself to stay in a situation long enough to develop fear, at least, not since she was a child.

The door clicked open again, and a pale and trembling initiate was practically dragged down the hall by two Dauntless members. Treya watched silently as they passed. She turned back to the door to find Four watching her, “you ready?”

She stood and made her way past him and through the door. The walls were white, and Treya was reminded of when she took the aptitude test. The familiar silver chair, with the braces on the headrest, and wires that linked the chair to a computer screen to the right, loomed in the middle of the sterile room.

“Have a seat,” Four’s voice was calm, and Treya slid cautiously into the silver chair. 

“A simulation serum?”

Four nodded, “we inject it to trigger the part of the brain that processes fear. It then induces a hallucination we call the fear landscape. The transmitters in the serum allow me to see your fear landscape on the screen.” 

“Like the aptitude test,” Treya mumbled.

Four nodded, “you’ll be aware it’s a simulation. The idea is that you face your fears and conquer them, or the fear no longer affects you, and the simulation moves on.” Four picked up the simulation injector; a handheld injector with the uncanny resemblance of a gun, with a long shiny needle where the barrel should be. “I’ll be monitoring your pulse and breathing on the screen as well as your landscape.” When he moved the injector closer to Treya, she moved away from it, eying it cautiously. “It goes in the side of your neck,” he offered.

“Of course it does,” Treya grumbled unhappily, but sat still long enough for him to push the needle into the side of her neck as she growled.

“Hurts a bit,” Four’s voice sounded far away as her eyes fluttered closed.

Black. All she could see was a soft, velvety black. She was standing, with her feet on the solid ground, but everything was so black she couldn’t see where her surroundings started and stopped. A blip in the black appeared before her, tiny at first, but slowly grew as it neared. Slowly it took shape until Treya stood before Treya, like a mirrored image of herself. Her reflection had her eyes closed, and a soft, hushed whisper rustled somewhere in the distance. The whisper crept in volume, and slowly the whisper multiplied. It grew in both volume and number until it formed a snarl; growling hushed words in an attempt to trigger a reaction from her reflection.

Treya. Treya. Doll. Trapped. Hurt. Touch. Touch. Touch. Treya. Doll. Nasty. Girl. Quiet. Scream. Doll. Treya. Nasty. Stupid. Touch. Touch. Touch. Hurt. Doll. Stupid. Doll. Whore. Whore. Whore.

The brow on Treya’s reflection furrowed. The darkness seemed to be closer; the velvet shrinking around her as the snarling whispers continued. Treya couldn’t move. She couldn’t make noise. Nothing she did could get the attention of her reflection. She knew if she could open her eyes, the voices would silence and the velvet darkness would creep away. But her reflection stayed still, a blip in the crushing, creeping black velvet; her expression still pained.

Treya closed her eyes. This was a simulation. It wasn’t real. But the voices snarled louder, like a rumble of thunder, and the black velvet of darkness seemed close enough to suffocate. The more Treya fought, trying to drown out the voices and push away the darkness, the louder they got, the more the velvet tried to crush her. There was no escape, Treya realized, and she relaxed herself, letting the voices grow until they blended together into one rumbling incoherent noise, and the velvet darkness swallowed her, cradling her inside it.

——

Treya gasped as her eyes shot open, and her body jolted upright in alarm.

“Easy,” Four soothed, putting a hand out to keep her from getting out of the silver chair. “It’s over.” His voice was soft and gentle as he tried to comfort her, but Treya only tensed.

His voice was comforting like a bed of velvet.

He seemed to notice her recoil away from him, and he pulled his hand away as she sat up. His brow was furrowed, “you ok?”

She nodded, running her fingers through her hair, not looking at him.

“Treya,” Four moved to the computer, “Have you ever done a fear simulation before?”

She glanced at him with a confused look, “why?”

His eyes caught her’s, “answer the question.”

“No,” she continued to watch him with confusion, “why?”

He turned back to the screen, “were you hearing something in your landscape?”

She was quiet a moment before clearing her throat. “Um,” she thought for a moment, “there were voices.”

“Voices?”

She nodded.

“And what were they saying?”

She glanced back at Four, who was watching her again, “they were calling my name.”

Four turned back to the screen, typing.

“May I go?” Treya asked anxiously before pushing herself out of the chair when Four nodded. She made her way across the room and out into the hall. The door clicked closed behind her. 

Her feet carried her mindlessly to the pit, and it wasn’t until she reached for the railing at the edge of the chasm did Treya realize she was shaking.

——

Eric had watched the video at least a dozen times. Watching it upside down, as it played for Max and Jeanine on the small tablet, didn’t offer him anything he hadn’t already noticed.

“And the footage of the exam room?” Jeanine asked, her eyes glancing up at Four briefly.

Four slid the tablet away from the two and switched the video footage before sliding it back for Max and Jeanine to view.

The two watched quietly. When the footage finished, Jeanine nodded her head, thinking.

“I thought it best to bring it to you,” Eric mumbled as Four shifted behind him. It annoyed him that Four wouldn’t sit in the vacant chair next to him, and instead chose to awkwardly stand behind it, but he wasn’t surprised. Four did not care for Jeanine, and refused to sit before her like a pupil or servant. 

Jeanine sat back in Max’s chair “did you have to trigger the landscape?” Her eyes were on Four.

He shook his head, “no. It was a legitimate fear, brought on by her own subconscious.”

She nodded, thinking.

“So she is afraid of hearing voices?” Max’s brow was furrowed as he tried to understand.

“It is not a literal fear,” Jeanine explained, “she is not afraid of people talking. It is symbolic, and her true fear is expressed as voices.”

“Her true fear,” Four repeated, and when the others looked at him, he added, “so it is possible that she only has one fear?”

Eric laughed, “what, jealous someone beat your score?” He mocked Four, eyeing him venomously. “Of course it’s possible for someone to only have one fear.”

“It is rare, and not usually achieved without extensive training and conditioning, but yes,” Jeanine agreed, “it's possible.”

“She hasn’t had any fear landscape training or conditioning,” Four argued. “Initiates don’t receive training before their first landscape.”

“Her whole life has conditioned her,” Eric growled, catching everyone’s attention. “She’s been subjected to torture as a child and conditioned as a soldier for the factionless army. She doesn’t have fear because she’s been surrounded by monstrous people all her life. She stared death in the face, and death blinked first. Of course she has no fear.”

“She has fear,” Four argued, his voice laced with a subtle growl. 

“A fear of which we do not know,” Max interrupted. “How is she to be trained in the fear landscape if her fear is unknown?”

“Isn’t it obvious?” Eric growled, coming to the conclusion on his own, though his voice was still malicious and annoyed, “she fears her own mind.”

Jeanine sat back in her seat, her eyebrows raised in surprise and curiosity.

Eric’s eyes caught her’s, “the voices are her own thoughts and self criticisms.” He looked to Max, “she can’t train for her fear landscape and she doesn’t need to. She’s already figured out how to conquer it.”

“How?” Four seemed more annoyed.

Eric’s brow furrowed before he mumbled, “the same way she does it every day. She believes it.”

——

Treya. Treya. Doll. Trapped. Hurt. Touch. Touch. Touch. Treya. Doll. Nasty. Girl. Quiet. Scream. Doll. Treya. Nasty. Stupid. Touch. Touch. Touch. Hurt. Doll. Stupid. Doll. Whore. Whore. Whore.

Treya’s eyes snapped open before the velvet darkness closed in around her. Her chest was tight, as if its presence was still there.

“You’re getting faster,” Four mumbled.

Treya glanced over at him as he typed on the computer hooked to the simulation chair.

“Faster doesn’t mean better,” Eric stated matter-of-factly from the other side of the room, where he had propped himself up against the sterile white wall. 

Both Treya and Four glanced over at him; Treya with annoyance, Four with minimal regard.

“I’m getting through it. Quickly,” Treya mumbled in argument.

Eric crossed his arms over his chest, “Yeah, but not as a Dauntless would do it.”

Four glanced back at him again, cautiously.

“You’re taking the coward’s way out,” Eric shrugged, “I’d rather see you take longer, but do it as a Dauntless and not as a coward.”

Treya found venom in his statement, whether he meant it to be there or not. She shoved herself from the chair, turning to Four, “am I done?”

Four nodded, “for today.”

Treya shoved herself through the door, and angrily marched herself past the other initiates, waiting with pale faces to face their own terrifying fears.

She knew what Eric meant. She wasn’t facing her fear, she was letting it control her. Slowing her heart rate and breathing stopped the simulation, but it didn’t mean she passed. She wasn’t being brave by letting herself be swallowed in the velvet dark, and believing the whispered words that were still echoing through her body. Dauntless were brave. Dauntless would face the fear; tell the voices they’re wrong, and chase the velvet away with their own light. 

“Dauntless are meatheads,” She grumbled to herself as she weaved her way down the slick stairs of the chasm wall. They were. They did as they were told, and answered any situation with brute force. They didn’t question anything, just followed through with orders and never thought for themselves. 

She was supposed to be conforming, or at least pretending to. It was just too difficult to act like a stupid subservient toy soldier. It wasn’t her nature, and she knew Eric and Four could tell. But not everything needed to be solved by brute force and strength. Not every situation required bravery. Sometimes you need to be logical, not brave.

——

“She passed the simulation,” Four didn’t bother turning to look at Eric, he was the only other one in the room. They had yet to bring in another initiate for simulation training, and it seemed like Eric was in no hurry to do so.

“It’s not about passing the simulation,” Eric was annoyed, per usual, but it was his comment that finally turned Four to look at him.

“It’s always been about passing the simulation,” his brow furrowed as he watched Eric who was still braced against the wall with crossed arms and a scowl. “That’s how half of Dauntless have passed stage two; slowing their heart rate and breathing. That’s how you passed.” 

Eric’s glare was murderous, but it had no effect on Four anymore. The two had been through too much, been at each other’s throats too much, to scare each other anymore. Besides, Four had almost succeeded in killing him in the midst of factionless war. 

“For her,” Eric growled, “it’s not about passing the simulation for her. You are well aware why she was ever allowed to come here.” Eric alluded to Jeanine’s experiment, knowing Four played his part in it. “She has to conform.”

Four leaned against the opposite wall, watching Eric as he fumed. He crossed his arms over his own chest, mirroring Eric, “does she?” He let the question hang for a moment before adding, “or do you want her to face her fear because you hate to see how it haunts her?”

Again, Eric glared at Four, his eyes dark and warning. He shoved himself off the wall and quickly stormed out, leaving Four without answers.

The initiates jumped when he slammed the door open, and he quickly pointed to the next in line, growling for them to hurry into the simulation room. He let out an audible growl as he glanced over the initiates. None of them were mastering the simulation the way he wanted them to. But that would have to be Four’s problem.

Treya was his.

Chapter Text

“You want me to waste my time on an errand any other newbie could do?”

Max leaned back in his chair, “I want you to carry out the demand of your commanding officer. Or have you forgotten the basics of being a Dauntless soldier?”

Eric paced in front of Max’s desk, “there are plenty of more important things than a signature on some piece of paper.”

“Sit down.” When Eric continued to pace, Max ordered more sternly, “sit down, Eric.”

Eric glanced at Max, seeing his warning glare. Reluctantly, he sat in one of the chairs across from Max.

“This isn’t a simple situation of a missing signature on a field trip form. This is a repeat non compliance situation.”

Eric sighed, he wasn’t getting out of this. He hated being sent off like an errand boy.

“I want you to take Treya with you.”

Eric’s brow furrowed.

“If she is to be a member of leadership, this will be a task similar to what she will be doing.” Max slid the form across his desk to Eric, “show her the ropes.”

Eric’s brow was still furrowed, but he plucked the paper from Max’s desk and examined it. His eyes narrowed, “this is for train inspections,” he glanced up at Max, “that’s factionless territory.”

Max nodded, “is there a problem?”

“Treya is the factionless girl.”

“She’s a Dauntless initiate, is she not?”

Eric’s jaw clenched. This was a test. Max wanted to see if she could dish out the law with her own kind; those she called family. He was testing her loyalty. Eric knew this kind of thing would happen sooner or later, he was just surprised Max was going to put her to the test before she even agreed to leadership training. He folded the paper and slid it into the inside pocket of his uniform vest before standing.

“Still a waste of my time,” Eric grumbled before turning and leaving Max’s office.

——

Eric found Treya in the mess hall, surprisingly. What little food sat on her tray looked untouched. An apple core did sit on her tray, so she had eaten something.

Eric slid himself onto the seat across from her, watching her mindlessly move her food around the tray with her fork. “You’re with...”

She cut him off with a finger to her lips, eyeing him cautiously.

His brow furrowed, and he glanced over her shoulder when she nodded that direction.

Across the aisle, diagonally behind her was Michael, Nick and Stephen. They were laughing with one another, and Eric could barely hear them above all the noise in the mess hall.

Eric shook his head, his eyes still on her.

She listened a moment longer before stirring in her seat, “You were saying?”

“What was that about?”

She barely let him finish his question, “You were saying I’m with what now?”

“Me. Tonight,” his brow was still furrowed, but he allowed her to change the subject, figuring he could prod at her for an explanation later.

She raised an eyebrow, “I don’t date.”

He narrowed his eyes, his glare cold and deadly. “Leadership work,” he snarled.

“I’m not part of leadership.”

“Good practice,” he growled, a little less anger in his voice.

Treya narrowed her own eyes, a smirk crossed her face at his reaction. “You sure you want a factionless in leadership?”

“It’s not my call,” his voice still venomous.

Treya’s smirk fell slightly at the sting of his remark, but she quickly shrugged it off. She stood from her seat, snatching up her tray, “you ready to do this thing then?” She didn’t wait for him to respond before sliding away from the table to put her tray away.

Eric watched her momentarily before following.

The two made their way back to Eric’s apartment, and Treya slipped into the bathroom to change into her initiate uniform. She stepped back out of the bathroom, not hearing Eric behind her.

“Grab your jacket.”

Treya jumped in surprise, and Eric reached out a hand to her shoulder to steady her as she turned around.

“Woah, easy there,” his brow furrowed momentarily until she relaxed.

She sighed, her eyes meeting his.

He noticed the hint of uneasiness in her stare before she quickly turned away from him and made her way out of his bedroom, snagging her jacket from the back of the couch. He pulled his own jacket on, making a mental note of how jumpy she still was after the attacks. He had noticed how cautious she had been, even with him. She had been careful to keep people in front of her, and not behind her. He had been sleeping on the couch because he noticed she hadn’t slept the one time she was on the couch. Being between the apartment door and the bedroom door seemed to make her nervous. But as cautious as she was, it never showed in her fear landscape.

He followed her to the living room and held the door open for her to walk through, then pulled it shut behind the two of them; the lock clicking. He nodded down the hall, leading her away from his apartment.

As they walked, he explained they were taking care of a noncompliant situation. Someone had not been keeping up with their maintenance checks and signatures of approval. Treya had assumed they’d be headed to a shop in Dauntless, or to a member’s apartment, but Eric led her outside. They must be headed to the fence.

The two pulled themselves into the train car in one fluid motion. Treya assumed they would wait there until the train passed its nearest point to the fence, but Eric made his way to the front of the car and slid the pass-through door open.

He looked back, “come on. To the front.”

“The front?”

He nodded, annoyance showing across his face.

Her brow furrowed, but she followed him, and the two made their way through the cars until only one door stood between them and the engine. It clicked in Treya’s brain. The noncompliance situation was for the train. The factionless-run train.

Was this a test? A test of “faction before blood?” He was asking her to crack down on the factionless, and enforce the law. The same factionless that had been her family all her life. This had to be a test to see if she was conforming to Dauntless standards. She couldn’t afford to fail, as failure would mean no access to inside information to feed back to Evelyn. The hair on the back of her neck stood on end as she couldn’t shake the feeling of being under a microscope.

Eric slid the door open to the engine. The scent of oil, mixed with the familiar scent that lingers on most Factionless, filled Treya’s nostrils as she followed Eric through the door.

A singular factionless man stood at the control panel, his tattered clothes typical of a factionless. Black, inky grease was smeared across his cheeks, highlighting his rich brown eyes. His hair was buzzed so close to his scalp that it almost looked as though he were bald. Treya has seen him around before, but she didn’t know anything about him other than his being factionless.

The man turned to give the two a good look over before commenting, “a bit out of your element here, Dauntless.”

Eric, who was looking around at the old control panels and switchboards, shot the man a hard glare. “Where are your inspection records?”

The man glanced over his shoulder before nodding to a clipboard hanging on the dirty wall behind him.

Both Eric and Treya turned to the clipboard with its faded papers with curling edges. Eric pulled the clipboard from the nail it hung on and flipped through the papers. “Where are your supervisor signatures?”

The man shrugged with a grin, not looking at the two of them.

“You need supervisor signatures on your inspection reports,” Eric grumbled.

The man huffed, “ain’t no supervisor here.”

“You're superior then,” Eric snapped, but the man just let out a humored huff. Eric slapped the clipboard against the dashboard in front of the man, “do you know what happens to non-compliants?”

The man gave Eric an amused smile, “you know how to drive the train, Dauntless?”

“You could go to jail,” Eric snapped, cutting the man off and giving him a threatening glare, which didn’t faze the man.

“Eric,” Treya growled, “even if he cooperated, there’s no supervisor here to sign it.” Her voice was low, but hard.

Eric straightened, mauling her words over, his glare still hard on the factionless man. He finally snarled at the man “who’s your supervisor?”

“Evelyn Johnson,” the man and Treya said in unison.

Eric glanced at Treya with a raised eyebrow, then he gave another ice cold glare to the snickering factionless man, before he stepped past Treya and out of the engine car.

Treya followed Eric, into the next train car, and then off the train. She landed on her feet next to him.

He growled in annoyance before walking away from Treya in large strides. For every two steps she took, Eric took one, and so she had to practically jog to keep up with him as he stormed down an alleyway.

“What now?”

Eric didn’t answer her.

“Are you going to talk to Evelyn?”

“She needs to sign a non-compliance warning form.”

“Well then you’re going the wrong way.” Treya had stopped, and Eric had taken two more strides before he finally processed what she had said.

He stopped and turned to look at her with narrow eyes.

She held his stare a moment before she sighed, “if you want to talk to Evelyn, she’s this way.” Treya turned and headed away from Eric, at her own pace. She knew it was risky to lead Eric to Evelyn and the other factionless, but she needed Eric’s trust, and she needed to appear willing to put distance between her and the factionless. She wasn’t even sure Eric was going to trust her enough to follow, until he had caught up to her, slowing his pace to match her’s.

He followed her through vacant alleyways, and past crumbling buildings that were only inhabited by rats. The two were silent other than their boots scraping on the broken asphalt as they walked. Treya shoved her hands in her jacket pockets, her eyes on the ground.

“Where were you going?”

Eric glanced at her before mumbling, “I know where the meeting was.” When she didn’t respond, he continued “to discuss you initiating into a faction.”

She huffed, “a location Evelyn chose, to meet with enemies.”

Eric glared at her, “enemies?”

Treya tensed, “factionless see anyone else as an enemy.”

Eric rolled his eyes. “I figured I’d at least find some hint to her whereabouts.”

Treya smirked. He had no idea where Evelyn was, and was fully dependent on her to lead him. For once she was in control, not him, and as tempting as it was, she decided not to take advantage of her sudden control. She needed his trust, he was giving it to her.

Without warning, she took off at a run. She knew he would catch up to her, as he was taller and his strides longer. She could hear his boots scraping on the crumbling road and then the steady thuds as he ran after her. He let her lead, but he was hot on her heels, chasing her and pushing her to go faster.

He let out a growl, and it rang through Treya as if his mouth was to her ear. She pushed forward, her breath steady and heavy as she ran. She jumped over a large crack in the road, then clambered up a pile of rubble and debris, before she slid down the other side. He followed, quick to slide down behind her. Through the alleys of the city, over the broken cement of old roads and sidewalks, the heaping piles left by fallen buildings, they ran. Treya’s lungs burned, but she lurched forward. Like a game of pursuit and takedown, he was the hunter and she was the prey. He was relentless and no matter how many times she tried to quicken her pace, he was right there, right behind her. She finally slid to a halt at the broken stairs of the old train station. Eric slid to a stop behind her, so close, she could feel his chest heaving and his breath heavy on her hair.

Treya swallowed, forcing her breathing to steady. She turned suddenly, to face him, taking a step back to put distance between them. “You follow my lead,” she growled softly. When his eyes narrowed, she added “if you want to bring that signature back to Max in one piece, then I’m in charge. You follow me, or you won’t get in, and you certainly won’t get out.”

His head rose until he glared down his nose at her. If he was searching for any hint to her bluff, he wouldn’t find it. She wasn’t bluffing. After a moment more, he finally smirked before pulling the folded form from his pocket and placing it in her open hand. “Alright initiate, let’s see how you lead.”

She turned again, and with a bound in her step, she jogged up the dull, broken stairs.

——

Having sat abandoned for as long as he could remember, the inside of the train station seemed like a time capsule, frozen in its last moments of life. Sure, there was graffiti from plenty of unruly kids over the years, and dirt seemed to cover every surface, and piled up in the corners, making the floor seem almost concave. But save a few broken windows here or there, the structure remained in one piece. The grand marble stairs, now dull and scuffed, led up to a platform, then snaked around on either side, up to the floors above. The stone ceiling had crumbled in places, but was still solid and sturdy above them. Pillars ascended from the ceiling, looking as if the lowest six feet had been dipped in overlapping graffiti. Arches still rose and fell above doorways and tunnels to other parts of the station.

Eric glanced around the station, his brow furrowed as he took in the interior. Treya couldn’t help but wonder if he was as awestruck by it as she had always been. She let out a soft whistle to get his attention, then nodded down the tunnel closest to her.

Eric followed her down three flights of stairs at the tunnel’s mouth, then into the unlit darkness. Treya knew the way by heart, and didn’t need to wait for her eyes to adjust, but she paused to let Eric, who was cautiously following her, catch up.

The tunnel swelled to a platform, with a deep ditch on one side that cradled rusted metal tracks, where underground trains once sped through. There was a faint singular light at the other end of the platform, where the mouth of another dark tunnel formed. The light was enough to allow the two of them to see the graffitied tile walls, and crumbling parts of the platform, where seams of cement had been.

Treya jumped down into the ditch, then looked up at Eric, waiting for him to follow. He hesitated a moment, then jumped down beside her and followed her to the other end of the platform and into a tunnel made only for trains and not for pedestrians.

Despite the station having been closed longer than Eric had been alive, he continuously glanced over his shoulder, as if anticipating an active train to come screeching down the tracks. But it never came.

At one point, Treya grabbed the shoulder of his jacket and pulled him into an old maintenance tunnel on the right. Eric no longer knew where they were at, or how long they had walked before Treya came to a sudden stop in front of him, causing him to bump into her slightly. In the dim light, he could see she was as still as stone, not a muscle moved. Then he heard it; the soft scraping of boots on the crumbling cement.

Three figures slowly slipped out of the shadows. Each face was thin, with deeply set eye sockets and cheeks that seemed almost concave. They wore tattered Dauntless uniforms, stitched in places with Abnegation cloth and strips of orange Amity clothing.

Seeing the three factionless men, each holding a rifle, Eric’s hand quickly went to his own gun, tucked in its holster on his right leg. He had it up and aimed at one of the three, with the safety off, in the blink of an eye. Each of the men responded by raising their guns.

Treya quickly put her arm out in front of Eric, trying to push him behind her.

There was a scuffling from behind them, and Eric snapped his attention towards the noise, just as a fourth factionless man pulled himself from the shadows, a smirk on his emaciated face.
Treya had also glanced back at the fourth man, and he chuckled when their eyes met.

“Treya, Treya, Treya,” he circled around in front of her as the others positioned themselves around Eric and Treya, trapping them.

Treya kept her eyes on him, keeping Eric behind her.

“You’re a long way from your new home, aren’t you?” When Treya’s only response was an unflinching glare, he added, “and in a pretty little uniform too.”

Again, Treya didn’t respond.

“What, things not working out in your posh little faction? You didn’t think you could just waltz back here and pick up where you left off, did you?” He smirked again, “cause mommy already replaced you, hunny. You’re not a top dog anymore.”

Treya’s glare never broke, and if she was bothered by his words, she never showed it, “Evelyn finally notice you Johnny? Too bad you’re just a rebound.”

Eric’s brow rose in surprise, and the smirk on the factionless man’s face faded to a scowl.

“You couldn’t ever imagine the pain I’ve been through, working my ass off and defending factionless for years, only to be shadowed by some child Evelyn pitied. Now that you’re too busy playing house with your new faction lover friends, I’m exactly where I should have always been. You ran away to play games. I was the one who stayed and has been holding shit together. Things have changed since you’ve been gone, and you, little girl, aren’t welcome here.” Johnny had stepped closer to Treya, who wasn’t backing down. “So you can take your dog, and leave.”

“We aren’t here for you,” Eric snarled, trying to step past Treya, but she put her arm out in front of him as the surrounding factionless cocked their guns.

Treya’s eyes glanced from side to side as the guns cocked, then she continued to glare at Johnny.

“It wasn’t a suggestion,” he smirked again, glaring down at Treya, as he stood a whole head and shoulders taller than her.

She took a deliberate step towards him, pushing herself uncomfortably close to him, her eyes hard and warning, her body tense and authoritative “usually when I put children in their place, I’m a bit more lenient, but I’m the only fighter smart enough to hold the title, so fuck your entitlement. And that goes for any of your little minions, I’ll put them in their place too. You think you’ve earned a title because the alpha was away? I’ll knock your beta ass down a peg because that’s not how you state your claim. You can throw your tantrum and cry ‘gimme gimmie’ but that’s the last chance you’re going to get to complain about life being unfair.” She took another step towards Johnny, forcing him to take a step back.

Eric stayed close to Treya, his gun aimed from one factionless to another. He was surprised at her fierce reaction. He hadn’t seen her snap like this before. She was always so careful and in control of her own power. She never snarled at someone who stood in her way.

“I promise you don’t want the title. You’ve had it easy so far, but you didn’t have to deal with shit during the uprising. You think it’s a piece of cake, but you’re just flirting with the responsibility. Now you’re coming at me in a dark tunnel? No, I’ll call you out publicly. Come take the title in front of everyone else, if you think you can. You’re nothing but a placeholder, a fill-in, a substitute for the real deal.” Another step forward, “no one’s first choice, just the one people settle for. So think as hard as you can before you start playing this charade. Choose your opponent wisely, not the bitch who invented the game.”

Johnny’s smirk had completely faded, and he seemed surprised, almost taken aback, by Treya’s snarling display of dominance.

“But you started this game, and you picked it with me, so here we go. I’ll make sure everybody knows, if you wanna play with the top dog, you get the teeth. You thought I was gone, but here I am, back to put the pup in his place. So welcome to the shit show you started, cause I’ll take this to the next level. What do you expect when you come at me like this? You should have known better. So think before you try to open your mouth and disrespect me.” She spat the last few words at him, her body tense and ready for a fight if he so chose.

But Johnny seemed to back down. He stepped aside, his eyes glaring like a jealous green eyed monster.

As soon as he stepped aside, Treya broke her warning glare, and stepped past him with Eric hot on her heels. “Put that away,” she mumbled to Eric, glancing at the gun in his hand.

Reluctantly he slid his gun back in the holster, glancing back at Johnny and the other three factionless men who followed with dark, angry glares.

The tunnel lightened, and a low roar echoed through it, growing louder until the tunnel emptied into a large, brightly lit chamber. The chamber mirrored the Dauntless pit, with factionless lining the perimeter in levels, up the side walls. At the center was an old boxing ring — the kind Eric had only read about in old fighting technique books. Two shirtless factionless men were fighting bare-fisted, their faces bloody and their bodies red and bruised, and egged on by the cheers of the countless factionless.

Eric stopped momentarily, taking in the sights of his surroundings. He noticed Treya seemed unfazed, as if this was nothing new to her. He quickened his pace to catch up to her as she glided down a narrow set of stone stairs to a platform where a handful of factionless sat, just above the ground level of the chamber.

A tall, bald headed factionless man stood, and greeted Treya with a warm embrace, wrapping his arms around her tightly, and lifting her off the ground. His smile was wide, and when he set her back down, he grasped both her shoulders in his hands, holding her back to examine the Dauntless uniform she wore.

She mumbled something to him, and the man’s head rose to look at Eric, the smile suddenly gone from his face. The man straightened, and Eric couldn’t tell if his glare was a warning, or a threat. He put an arm around Treya, leading her away from Eric and further down the platform.

When Eric caught up to them, Treya was talking with a tall, thin woman. She had dark hair, and olive skin that was pulled tight over rigidly protruding cheek bones. This must be Evelyn.

Treya had the noncompliance form in hand, firmly explaining how important it was to Evelyn. “I’m serious ma, you have to sign off on the train checks,” reluctantly Evelyn took the form, then glanced around for a pen, fruitlessly.

Eric slid a pen from his pocket, clicked it open and handed it to her.

Evelyn paused a moment to look Eric up and down before taking the pen from him. “You’re a long way from home, Dauntless,” Evelyn stated as she signed the form.

“He’s with me,” Treya snatched the form from Evelyn as soon as she was done signing, “my trainer.” She looked over the form to make sure it was correct and complete.

“So they sent you to do their dirty work,” Evelyn noted.

Treya folded to paper, “you know a faction lover could never find you on their own terms, Evelyn.” Treya flashed a smile, slipping the form into her pocket.

Evelyn returned the smile, chuckling softly and nodding in agreement. “That’s fair, though I’m not too happy you brought him here.”

Treya smirked, “what’s he going to do, run back and tell his leader? In an hour you’ll all be gone from here, and he’d look a fool for bringing the troops to an old abandoned maintenance tunnel.”

Evelyn nodded, mauling over Treya’s words before glancing back at Eric. “Why don’t you stay for a fight? As guests.”

“No, we can’t...” Eric was shaking his head, but the tall factionless man that had embraced Treya interrupted.

“Kelly’s fight is up next, you should ref her!” The man excitedly clapped Treya’s shoulder.

“I didn’t know she was fighting yet.”

“Yeah, and she’d be super excited to have you in the ring with her again.”

Treya glanced back at Eric, who gave her a disapproving look. Her eyes flashed to Evelyn then to the factionless man before she nodded.

Eric let out a tch of disapproval before attempting to follow Treya off the platform and to the ground level, but Evelyn held out a hand in front of him.

“Easy there, big boy. She can handle herself,” Evelyn flashed a smile when Eric glanced at her, then she nodded her head to two empty chairs, “humor me, soldier boy.”

Eric looked back to Treya, who was being led to the ring by the factionless man and his arm across her back. Two new fighters were in the ring, one teen shirtless boy, who was thin but solid muscle. The other was a young girl, maybe thirteen and equally thin. She wore tattered Dauntless pants and a black sports bra. She was tiny, and no real match for the boy. The factionless man was holding the ropes open for Treya to duck under and into the ring. Reluctantly, Eric turned and followed Evelyn to the empty chairs, sitting next to her.

From somewhere in the chamber, someone was announcing the fight over the cheers of the crowd. Then it was announced that Treya would be the referee, and the cheers intensified. Eric’s brow furrowed at the cheers.

“She’s undefeated in the ring,” Evelyn offered, seeing Eric’s confusion.

“I didn’t think she fought for sport.”

Evelyn chuckled, “these fights aren’t for sport. They’re practice.”

The fight had started, and the girl was surprisingly decent. She was quick on her feet, but she really had to drive all her power into her punches to have a real effect on the much larger boy.

“You like her, don’t you,” Evelyn stated, just low enough for Eric to hear.

He glanced back at her, more in surprise that she said it, than what she said. The girl in the ring had just been punched in the temple hard enough to send her tumbling to the mat, and Treya was quick to check on her.

“More than you’re willing to admit,” she added with a smirk. When all she received was a roll of the eyes as a response, she added “don’t break her heart, soldier boy.”

He huffed, glancing back at her, “I thought your precious angel could handle herself.”

Evelyn shrugged wryly, “there’s a lot of people who wouldn’t take kindly to her heart being broken.” She nodded towards the ring.

Eric turned back to the fight just in time to see the boy advance on the now wobbly girl, as Treya pulled her to her feet. When the boy tried to lash out, Treya was quick to shove his fist away from the girl, and then land a solid left hook to the boy’s cheek, sending him sprawling.

Eric jumped to his feet, and Evelyn quickly followed, “easy there, soldier, Edgar’s got her.”

Sure enough, the tall factionless man had his arms wrapped around Treya as she yelled at the boy she just sent sprawling, and tried to advance on him, her feet leaving the floor with the momentum of her aggression. The boy looked fearful, and Edgar continued to hold Treya back until the boy slinked out of the ring. The crowd was cheering, and Eric wasn’t sure if they were cheering for the victor, the loser, or Treya. Eric wasn’t sure if the crowd knew why they were cheering either.

Eric watched as Edgar helped Treya and the girl from the ring, then watched as Treya talked to the girl, instructing her on some footwork and stances.

“She worked with a lot of the kids before the uprising,” Evelyn offered. “She’s a good teacher and the reason these kids can defend themselves.” She stepped to Eric’s side, forcing him to turn to her. “She doesn’t need saving.”

“I never said...”

Evelyn held up her hand to stop him. “She’s a wild animal and she doesn’t need taming either. Don’t lead her on if you can’t handle her wild.”

Eric’s brow furrowed as he mulled over the words she left him with before she stepped to the side as Treya, Edgar, and the bruised and bloodied girl, Kelly, made their way to them. Eric looked down at the girl, tiny in comparison to him. Despite the beating she took, she seemed unfazed, her eyes bright with life. Eric smirked, “pretty decent fight. How old are you?”

The girl smiled up at him “I just turned thirteen last week. This was my birthday fight!”

“Oh yeah?”

“Yeah, and it was so cool to get to fight in the ring! Treya says that if I keep practicing my stances, my hits will really improve and I could win my next one!” The girl could barely contain her excitement.

Eric smirked, “yeah, maybe.”

“When I’m sixteen, I want to be Dauntless too, just like Treya!”

Eric shot a glance to Treya, who was watching intently, then he bent over to look the girl in her eyes, bracing himself on his knees, “well, you keep practicing hard, and work on some strength training, then I’ll see you in the Dauntless ring, and you can show me some moves, alright?”

She nodded, her smile fading slightly into a look of determination.

He held his fist out to her, and her smile returned as she thunked her own fist against his. Eric straightened, giving Treya a stern look, “we need to head back.”

She nodded before turning to give Edgar a hug, and ruffle Kelly’s hair. She then turned to Evelyn, “I don’t want to have to have that conversation again, ma. Don’t make me give it again, ok?”

Evelyn smirked, “we’ll see.”

Treya rolled her eyes before turning and leading Eric back up the stairs to the dark tunnel.

“See ya soldier boy,” Evelyn called after them before hushing Edgar’s snicker.

——

“You laid into that one guy pretty hard.” Eric was the first to break the silence. They had walked from the train station to the tracks, but no train was around yet, so they had been following the tracks towards the Dauntless compound.

Treya kicked a rock down the tracks, her hands in her pockets. “Johnny’s an entitled brat who spent too long on the tit.”

Eric raised an eyebrow, smirking at her “and you know that as fact.”

“Solid fact,” Treya huffed.

Eric mimicked her huff, amused. “You don’t usually square up like that though. You’ve never done that at Dauntless.”

“Dauntless and Factionless are two different animals,” Treya sighed. “Dauntless is mostly mental. You’re strong if you can fight, sure. But a lot weighs on mental strength. How do you handle fear? How do you display leadership? Teamwork? Factionless need that alpha dominance. They need to see it. It’s more barbaric than Dauntless. We survive on animalistic instinct. Fight or flight. You’re either alpha, or you’re trying to take alpha.”

“We?” Eric caught her slip up, whether she wanted him to or not.

Treya was quiet, not entirely sure how to respond.

“Everyone has tendencies for the faction they were raised in. I have my books, you have your instincts.”

Treya glanced at him, catching his gaze. It was surprisingly gentle and understanding, not the hard and intimidating scowl he usually wore.

After a long moment of silence, Eric mumbled, “so you trained the kids?”

Treya let out a soft “mhmm.” She paused before she added “you uh, you did good back there, with Kelly.”

Eric shoved his hands in his pockets, “she’s got a long way to go, but the basics are there.”

“She’s wanted to fight since she was little.”

Eric huffed, “she still is little.”

“She’s thirteen, practically initiation age.”

Eric was quiet. There wasn’t much more to say. He thought about what Evelyn had said. It was obvious that Treya could handle herself. There wasn’t a situation she had been in since coming to Dauntless, that he wasn’t sure she could have handled without him. As far as breaking her heart, Eric was sure that wouldn’t happen. They had both made it explicitly clear that neither of them were interested in dating. But why would Evelyn bring it up? Neither of them had made any indication that they were interested in each other. Eric hadn’t thought much about Treya that way. Besides, Treya seemed pretty close to that factionless Edgar. He had never seen Treya embrace another person, and she was usually careful to avoid physical contact at all. Yet she embraced Edgar in a hug, with her face buried in the crook of his neck. The more he thought about it, the more something swelled inside him; a warm, acidic anger, almost annoyance. Was that jealousy?

They rounded the corner to the Dauntless compound entrance, and Eric pushed the thoughts away.

——

Treya. Treya. Doll. Trapped. Hurt. Touch. Touch. Touch. Treya. Doll. Nasty. Girl. Quiet. Scream. Doll. Treya. Nasty. Stupid. Touch. Touch. Touch. Hurt. Doll. Stupid. Doll. Whore. Whore. Whore.

Treya’s eyes jolted open, then she growled in annoyance.

“You did fine,” Four tried to sound encouraging, but Treya could tell he was just as frustrated. “A lot of initiates get through it by slowing their heart rate and breathing. You’re not doing anything wrong.”

“I’m not doing it right either, Four,” Treya snapped. “You heard Eric, it’s not how a Dauntless would do it.”

“Treya, plenty of Dauntless get through their fear landscape by calming down. Including Eric himself. You’re doing it the exact way countless Dauntless do it.” He was leaning against the counter, the computer behind him. They had been running her landscape nonstop for hours, and each time Treya fought and tried to get through that black velvet. Each time, she ended up resorting to succumbing and letting it swallow her. She was pushing the limits of the landscape, waiting until the very last second before relaxing and letting it cover her. Four was getting more and more concerned with how far she was pushing the test. One of these times she wouldn’t be so lucky. One of these times she wouldn’t be able to relax, and that velvet would kill her.

When Four received no response other than Treya running her fingers through her hair in frustration, he pushed himself from the counter and squatted down in front of her, catching her eyes. “When you came to me, you asked me for help. Why me?”

Her eyes searched his momentarily, “you won’t find me obsessive.”

Four smirked. He couldn’t deny he had obsessed over his own fear landscape for years. He bowed his head slightly in thought, before glancing up at Treya, “look, that darkness you keep falling back into, that’s not real.”

Treya huffed, looking away from him in slight amusement, rubbing her palms on her knees, “of course it’s not. It’s a fear landscape, it might seem real, but it’s...”

“Those thoughts you’re having,” Four cut her off, “the voices that whisper to you in your fear landscape, those aren’t real.” He paused to catch her gaze as the annoyed smile faded from her face as she processed what he was saying, “you know, your father was an awful person, and he may have said that shit, but that doesn’t make it real.”

She was still, her eyes searching his.

“His words, those words, they aren’t your worth.” He held her gaze, wanting to ensure she knew how serious he was. When she finally dropped her gaze to her hands, he stood and moved back to the computer, “darkness is weak to light. Find your light.”

“There is no light there. Just the darkness and the voices,” Treya mumbled, wringing her hands together.

“Then make your own.”

Chapter Text

Treya had kept to herself the next few days. Eric would spar with her on occasion, but for the most part, she just kept to herself in the training room.

Since the attacks, the boys had mostly left Treya alone. Eric had reported their crimes to Max and the other superiors, much to Treya’s disapproval. However, it did seem to make the boys back off. Their hushed snickers anytime she was around still continued though.

Treya had continued to run through her fear landscape daily. Multiple times a day if Four would allow her. His words about making her own light weighed heavily in her mind. Dauntless don’t just make light. That’s something a divergent would do. For a Dauntless, it would be more logical. And while Treya was neither Dauntless or Divergent, she needed to act like it to pass.

Her pondering had led her up the side of the pit, and into one of the shops that was nestled into a small outcropping.

“Back again I see” the short blue haired girl mumbled. She looked up from her tablet briefly and noted “I see those kicks are still doing you good.”

Treya glanced down at her boots then around the clothing shop. The two of them were alone. It was close to lunch time, so it didn’t surprise Treya. Most Dauntless ran to the mess hall as close to lunch as possible, for first dibs on whatever heavy food had been prepared that day. She glanced at the doorway before quietly making her way over to the counter, where the girl sat.

“Yeah, thanks for the recommendation.”

The girl glanced up at Treya, then did a double take when she realized there was more Treya wanted. Her eyebrow rose and a slightly annoyed expression flashed across her face.

Treya glanced at the door again, and the blue-haired girl’s gaze followed before returning back to her. “I need some help.”

“Look kid, I don’t know what you think you’re after, but this is just a clothing shop.”

“No,” Treya cut her off before she could continue. “I need, um, a bra.” She tried to hide the embarrassment that she was sure flushed across her face. She hadn’t gotten one since the nurse, Anne, had suggested it, and after a few close sparring matches with Eric, he quickly noticed she still was using a wrap. Needless to say, it sparked an argument between the two, and they were both too stubborn to back down, ending with them storming off away from each other.

For a moment, the girl’s expression changed from annoyance to surprise, but she slid off her stool and led Treya to a back corner rack of clothing. “You looking for a specific style?”

“I…don’t know,” Treya admitted with embarrassment.

The girl blinked at her a few times in disbelief, then turned back to the rack and snatched a few different bras from the rack before ushering Treya back behind a black curtain at the very back of the store.

On the other side of the curtain was a small room with a little stool and a mirror.

“Take your shirt off.”

Now it was Treya’s turn to blink at her in disbelief, “what?”

“I’m going to measure you to see what size you need” was all the girl offered.

Awkwardly, Treya pulled her shirt over her head, then undid the wrap when the girl pointed at it with a “this too.” The girl then slid a measuring tape around Treya’s chest, first at the bottom, then at the middle. She seemed unphased when Treya flinched away from her touch at first. Letting go of one end of the measuring tape, the girl looped it around her neck before flipping through the various bras she had brought from the rack. “Here, try this one. It’s a small.”

Turning away from the girl, Treya slipped the bra over her head and down in place, noticing in the mirror that the girl was busy fiddling with the other bras, and not paying any attention to Treya dressing.

When Treya’s arms fell to her sides, the girl looked up and checked the band and straps before nodding in approval. “This is a sports bra, good for training and working out. Most girls use these more than anything else in Dauntless, but we do have other styles if you want.”

Treya was quiet, looking at her reflection in the mirror and noting how the bra seemed to hold her chest in place but was more flexible than the wrap she was used to.

“You’re a size small right now, but if you gain a lot more muscle, you might have to go up in size. So just come in if it gets too tight.”

Treya nodded “thank you.”

After checking that Treya liked the style and fit, the girl picked up the other bras, and plucked the tag off of the bra Treya had on “you can wear that out, I’ll grab you a couple more so you have enough for a week, and we’ll get you cashed out.” Then she disappeared behind the curtain again.

Treya took a moment to analyze her reflection some more, then she slid her shirt back on and folded her wrap before slipping back through the curtain. The girl was back at the counter, a brown bag sitting on top. Treya made her way back to the front of the shop.

“It’s Price, right?”

Treya nodded, “I’m not sure I have enough credits though.”

“You do, I already checked.” The girl slid the bag to Treya.

Treya looked down at the bag before grabbing it by the handles. Something shiny caught her attention in the glass case below the countertop. She took a second glance. It was a small silver lighter. There was no fancy design or engraving. Just smooth silver. She tapped the glass, pointing at it.

“How much?”

The blue-haired girl glanced at it, then shrugged “twenty credits.”

Treya stared at it a bit longer then said “I’ll take it.”

The girl slid the back of the case open and pulled the lighter out, “you want it filled too?”

Treya nodded, and the girl flipped it over before turning to the cabinet behind her, and pulled out a dark bottle. She pushed the nozzle of the bottle to the bottom of the lighter and squeezed. Treya could hear the liquid squirting into the little lighter. When the girl was done, she put the bottle away and handed the lighter to Treya, who fiddled with it before flicking it open and on.

“You know, most Dauntless don’t smoke. It’s bad for the body and affects fighting skills,” the girl mumbled.

“It’s not for smoking,” Treya mumbled back, mesmerized by the flame.

The girl gave Treya a questionable look, one eyebrow raised, “what’s it for?”

“Light,” Treya flicked the lighter closed and slid it into her pocket. She turned to head out of the shop but stopped with a second thought. “Hey, if you’re not here and I need a different size, who should I ask for?”

The girl huffed, “just ask for me, I’m probably just in the back putting inventory away if I’m not out here on the floor.”

“And you are?” Treya questioned.

The girl gave Treya a toothy smile before responding, “Christina.”

— —

Eric found Treya at the edge of the pit, leaning against the guardrail to the chasm. He leaned against it as well, first looking across the pit, but then turned to look over the chasm like Treya.

“Four said your simulation time is getting faster each time you do it.”

She was quiet, looking down into the chasm.

He sighed and ran a hand through his hair, “I’ve been hard on you about the simulation.”

She huffed softly, but otherwise said nothing.

Eric glanced over to her, but she seemed to not pay any attention to him, lost in her own thoughts as she fiddled with something in her hand. His attention darted there, and he watched her flick open a small metal lighter, and flick it on. “Take up smoking?”

She flicked it back off and snapped it shut. “Never had the luxury.”

He huffed “well don’t. It’ll kill your lungs.”

“Wasn’t planning on it”

His brow furrowed and he straightened, “then why the lighter? Planning some arson?”

She turned to him, simultaneously holding the lighter up at his eye level, and flicked it back on “light.”

He raised an eyebrow. Whatever her reasoning, it was clear she wasn’t going to elaborate at his expense. He watched her turn back to the chasm and lean against the guardrail. He hadn’t noticed how her shaggy hair had grown to touch her shoulders before. Had it really been that long since she transferred in? Sure, they were in phase two of initiation, but it seemed like just yesterday when she was introduced to him.

She continued fiddling with the lighter a bit longer before snapping it shut and slipped it into the pocket of her jacket. With Treya’s malnourished frame, she seemed to always be cold. Even during sparring or workouts, she tended to wear long sleeves. There were very few times Eric saw her in short sleeves, and he knew that was only because she had pretty much moved into his apartment about a week ago. Even then, she favored long sleeves. He smirked at the thought of her in his apartment.

“I have a thing,” she finally said, breaking the silence and Eric’s train of thought.

He glanced up at her “a thing?”

She took a few steps from him, backwards as she said “yeah, with Four.”

Eric straightened, his brow furrowed slightly, “oh you and Four huh?”

She huffed, turning away from him and continued down the path to the simulation room.

“I thought you don’t date,” Eric hollered after her, then smirked as she held up a hand to flip him off as she continued away from him.

——

Treya. Treya. Doll. Doll. Trapped. Hurt. Touch. Touch. Touch. Treya. Doll. Nasty. Girl. Quiet. Scream. Doll. Treya. Doll. Nasty. Stupid. Touch. Hurt. Doll. Stupid. Doll. Whore. Whore. Whore.

The velvet was closing in. Thick and heavy. And while the snarling voices continued their hushed chanting, Treya could hear the velvet groaning as it grew, slowly swallowing her in darkness. It groaned as it crawled its way up her, the voices echoing in whispers that only intensified as the black velvet creeped up her body like quick growing moss. She couldn’t move, though she struggled and thrashed. It crawled and clawed its way up her body as she wiggled and thrashed with determination. Groaning as it inched its way, the voices filling her ears and mind until the whispers were so loud they racked at her eardrums. Creeping up her neck, up her chin. She opened her mouth to scream but no sound escaped. Only velvet fingers pushing into her mouth, suffocating and crushing her. Eyes wide with a mix of fear and the sheer need to survive. The darkness surrounded her, engulfing her and slowly crushing her with its weight. Treya’s eyes slowly closed.

This was the farthest she’d let it creep. And now, it was time to relax.

No.

At once the velvet and snarling voices screeched as the darkness snapped away from Treya at an unfathomable speed. Silence. The voices, the groaning black velvet were gone. In their place a light encompassed Treya, surrounding her in a gentle golden glow, her body curled into a ball and floating in the light’s embrace. Golden flickers emerging from her hands and the little silver lighter she held. Her eyes still closed, for once the warmth of the light was all she needed to feel comfortable, still, and calm. She stayed still, curled around her little lighter and allowed its glow to cradle her as her breathing steadied and slowed, and her racing heart slowed to match the gentle warmth of each breath. Slowly she faded, and drifted back to reality.

Her eyes fluttered open to see Four leaning against the wall watching her silently. Her brow furrowed as the last of the simulation left her and her mind cleared enough to sit up.

“Found your light, did you?”

Treya looked down at her hands, clutching her lighter tight enough her knuckles had turned white from the pressure. Slowly she uncurled her fingers, stretching them and feeling the blood rush through them.

She looked up at Four. Was this cheating? Was this allowed to pass the fear landscape? She waited for a lecture, but he only flashed her a gentle smile.

“Smart thinking, Dauntless.”

Treya exhaled with relief, unaware she had been holding her breath until that moment.

“For the final test, I suggest you keep that in your pocket, but good job.” He turned back to the computer, “I challenge you to use that as a weapon to your advantage next time. Let your light fight for you. Slay some demons.”

Treya slid from the chair and made her way towards the door of the simulation room.

“Oh and Treya,” Four added, causing Treya to stop before opening the door, “please don’t wait so damn long next time, I almost pulled you out of the simulation myself.”

Treya hid her smirk, opening the door and leaving Four to finish his notes alone.

——

Eric couldn’t shake it.

Even with his mind elsewhere though, he still managed to best Treya in their sparring. His sheer size was his advantage, and….something else.

With Treya and him rolling back and forth, her body pressed to his as she tried to push him from her, he felt the smoothness of her upper back. That’s when it finally hit him that she had replaced the wrap she usually used to bind her chest in place. And that’s when Eric realized he was thinking about Treya’s chest.

Now he couldn’t shake his mind back to the task at hand. Instead, he found a heat rising in him like an animalistic growl in his core. He found his hands wandering in their grappling, his weight shifting to his pelvis when he had her pinned under him. And his fingers momentarily gripped at Treya’s hair.

“Eric,” Treya growled before locking her ankle around his and rolling to flip him off of her. She could tell he was off his game today, and she stood and took a step back from him. Her brow was furrowed as she gave him a quick look over, trying to make sense of what was going on.

It was everything Eric could do to not let his eyes wander over her, his breathing heavy as he locked his gaze on hers.

Exasperated, Treya shrugged before her arms fell to her sides with an audible slap, “well?”

Eric, still trying to slow his breathing, licked his lips before questioning, “what?”

“What’s gotten into you?” Treya asked, annoyed.

Instinctively, Eric ran his hand through his hair, taking the opportunity to let his eyes wander to Treya’s chest then turned from her before she noticed. His hand rubbed at the scar across his scalp.

Treya growled behind him, “I don’t know what’s gotten into you or what the hell is wrong, but I’m not going to waste my time practicing with someone who doesn’t want to.”

“Treya,” Eric turned back to her, but she was already storming away. He watched her go, his eyes wandering over her as that animalistic heat burned in his core.

——

Treya returned back to Eric’s apartment after a sparring match with Oliver that ended with her teaching him and his brother Logan a few moves. The mini training session then was interrupted by Jessica, Alex, and Benny, who insisted Treya show them some moves as well. Which, Treya obliged, taking extra care to work with Jessica until she could execute the moves well enough. They were all decent fighters, and had progressed quite a bit since first coming to Dauntless, but Treya could tell they still needed more practice that would only come with time. When the group finally took a rest, they sat in the middle of a fighting ring and talked.

They all had gotten to know each other well, aside from Treya, who had always kept to herself when she wasn’t isolated in training with Eric. No surprise, they had quite a few questions for her.

“What’s it like being factionless?”

“Where did you learn to fight so well?”

“What’s it like training with Eric?”

“Why the heck doesn’t Michael like you?”

To Treya’s surprise, no one asked about the uprising or Treya’s part in it. It seemed that they were all willing to keep that bit of the past in the past. Treya answered every question, including why she doesn’t like Dauntless food, and the awkward question of where she’s been staying since it’s not in the initiate barracks with them. That one sparked some interesting follow up questions from Alex about exactly how close Treya and Eric were, and if Treya found him attractive. “I don’t date,” was the only response she’d give on that one.

Eventually the group had parted ways, and Treya now found herself unlocking Eric’s apartment door with the spare key he had given her. She pulled off her jacket and draped it over the back of the couch as she crossed the room. After sparring, she wanted a shower before figuring out what to do to kill time before dinner. With the only bathroom inside Eric’s bedroom, she had just opened the door to the bedroom and stepped in, when the bathroom door to her left also swung open.

Eric stepped through the threshold, dripping wet and finishing wrapping a towel around his hips. His hair was a jumbled mess, and it took a step before he looked up and noticed Treya. He stopped dead in his tracks.

After a moment of silence, eyes locked on each other, Treya gave him a quick but obvious look over before asking “are you going to get dressed?”

Eric gave her a vicious smirk “are you going to watch?”

“No,” she answered flatly and a little quicker than Eric would have liked. She pushed herself past him and to the bathroom, “I’m going to take a shower.”

He moved just in time to not get hit by the door as she pulled it closed behind her. Rolling his eyes, he stepped into his closet to get dressed.

Treya quickly stripped from her practice clothes, switched on the shower and quickly hopped into the water. Instantly a shriek escaped her as the ice cold water hit her body, and she scrambled for the knob, turning it as hot as it would go. The water slowly warmed, and she finally sighed and relaxed, then rolled her eyes when she heard Eric laugh.

When Treya emerged from the bedroom, Eric immediately rose from his spot on the couch to retrieve a plate of food for her. Rice, with different vegetables, and chunks of egg, lightly coated in a brown sauce. Treya ate quietly as Eric typed on his small handheld tablet.

Treya had noticed that Eric never truly seemed to be off the clock. Even though it wasn’t his usual working hours, he still kept himself busy with work documents on his tablet. Treya wasn’t quite sure what he did for work other than “leadership business.”

When she set the bowl down on the table in front of them, she pulled her feet under her, curling up on one end of the couch.

Eric glanced at her as she moved, then did a double take. She was wearing one of his shirts again, her hair still damp from the shower, and her legs and feet completely bare. As she shifted to pull her feet under herself, the shirt rose up her thighs, exposing the many white scars that criss crossed them. He set the tablet down, shifting himself to face her. He watched as she fiddled with her nails, and when her gaze finally lifted to see him watching her, she seemed almost surprised.

“What,” she asked, surprised by his intense stare. He looked almost like an animalistic predator, watching its prey.

In a flash of movement, he had reached out and grabbed hold of her, pulling her to him. Caught off guard by his actions, her breath hitched in her throat and her body tensed. Sensing her nervousness, he slowed, sliding her legs across his lap and nestling her next to him. “These,” his fingers traced across the ends of the many scars on her thighs, “are they self-inflicted?”

Taking a moment to process, she finally answered “no,” then added when he began to trace along them “most are from Jordan.”

Eric clenched his teeth at the mention of Treya’s brother, “do they still bother you?”

She shook her head “they just don’t look good.”

He gripped her thigh, resisting the urge to argue.

Treya tugged herself away from him slightly, causing him to let go of her leg. “It’s not the scars that bother me still.”

Eric nodded knowingly, before running has hand through his hair, and across his own scar. “I understand that, more than you realize.”

They sat quietly a moment, before Treya mumbled “why don’t you take the bedroom tonight.”

Eric huffed, “absolutely not.” Since Treya had practically moved in, he had been sleeping there on the couch, or the pull out in his office room. He had insisted Treya take the bed, as she was an initiate and needed decent rest for training. “Besides, I have company coming.”

“Uh, what?” Treya pulled away from him suddenly, and the instant longing for the warmth of her next to him, hit him harder than he anticipated. She stood, pulling the shirt she was wearing further down her legs, stretching it “when?”

“Relax initiate,” Eric did his best to add his usual annoyed tone to his order. “You’re going to be in bed and asleep by the time they get here, got it?”

It sounded almost like a warning, but Treya knew better, “I said when” she growled.

Eric huffed, “why don’t you get some sleep. I’m sure you have a thing with Four tomorrow.”

Treya scoffed and rolled her eyes before turning and making her way to the bedroom, “jealous much?”