Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

1.

It didn’t start as much. He was a hurt, lonely Stiff, and I was only there because I was shot. It wasn’t anything, actually. I just wanted to mess with him.

Until it felt a little too real.

-

(The end of Book 1: Divergent)

I knock back into my senses when the Stiff shoots me. 

I instantly feel a searing pain, and my hand rushes up to clutch my shoulder. “What the hell?!” I yell, tears already piercing my eyes. It burns, and I lose focus on my surroundings.

That’s going to scar.

I’ve never been shot before, but it’s so much more everywhere than I thought. It’s the only thing I feel. I’m not going to die , but I forget what I said to provoke this.

I look back up at the Stiff. She’s so short, but she stands up straight and confident, and I think of how humiliating this would be for me if I didn’t know more than her. Still, she’s acting like she owns the place, and as much as I hate it, I have much less of a choice whether I listen to her or not.

But it’s just so aggravating she would actually shoot me! 

She has a couple of others with her: a young boy who’s probably my age and two old guys. None look very reliable in the war department, but I guess the Stiff got desperate and chose some randos of the streets. The one my age looks like he’s going to burst into tears.

All of them wear Abnegation clothes, but something tells me there’s more to them than meets the eye. The older guys look familiar, like they’re some important figures I forgot, but I’ve never seen the boy before. Makes sense Tris’ only friends right now are in Abnegation. Her roots are really starting to show by her warrior choice.

I look back at Tris. I try not to look like I’m a kicked dog, but I feel like scowling in a situation like this would be too fake, so I settle for a strained frown. Sharp pain still shoots through my shoulder every breath I take, but at least I've got my focus back.

“Let’s go. Get up, Peter,” Stiff barks. How can she expect me to get up like this?

Suddenly, the young boy speaks up. “You want him to walk? Are you insane?” He asks her. Yes, yes she is, lovely observation.

“Did I shoot him in the leg? No. He walks.” With that, Tris continues on, taking the old men with her. 

However, the boy stands for a second, looking conflicted, before coming over to help me. He takes my arm and helps me up. I try scowling, but give in when I realize how much it hurts to do something as simple as pulling myself up. It’s pathetic, but at least this kid’s just an Abnegation. Plus, he’s probably gonna die halfway through this journey.

“Where do we go, Peter?” Tris asks roughly, waving her gun around carelessly. Some Dauntless she is, she wouldn’t last a second without the assurance of her gun or her basic boyfriend.

However, I lead the way, taking her through the Dauntless compound to go save whoever the heck.

We go through multiple halls, and I walk in the front, with Tris loosely pointing her gun at my back. It’s humiliating, and I question whether it’s a better option than dying.

I have to plan a way to get out of here. I’d have to do it alone, and I’d probably have to run since I couldn’t take any of these people on right now (not even the scrawny boy, and that’s saying something), but I remain true to my word as I lead the ragtag team.

-

Turns out one of those old men was Tris’ father. I learned that after he died. 

Tris and ‘Scrawny’ were absolutely broken, but I had to stop myself from laughing. Sure, I felt the tiniest bit of remorse for Scrawny; he was genuinely nice to me, and he’s probably never done a wrong thing in his life. Look at him. He’s a freakin’ cinnamon roll.

But Tris’ guilt is absolutely divine. It’s satisfying to see her cry and lose something important to her when she thought she was invincible. She feels the loss so many others have before her, and now she knows our pain. She’s learned her lesson that people die in the real world.

Now, she’s gone. She’s taken her gun and left, leaving the older man, Scrawny and me waiting, traumatized, and in pain (in that order).

I think she just really, really wants to be a main character. If I had it my way, she’d be dead. It would be nice to do it myself, but at this point, I wouldn’t care if Jeanine, or even Eric did it. She needs to be stopped. She’s never once thought about anyone except that boyfriend of hers and herself, ruining everyone’s lives and taking all attention, every opportunity, and everyone’s trust.

Not mine, not today, not ever, Stiff.

Right now, the rest of us wait in a bloodied hallway, where a few guards lie dead. I instantly sit down, avoiding any blood spots, and spy on everyone else.

The remaining old man still looks familiar. Like someone I know, but I can’t put a name to either. He’s sweating, takes large breaths, and eventually settles to sit next to me. I scoot away. Who knows where he’s been?

The younger boy stays standing. He looks absolutely shaken: his hair is disheveled, he won’t stand still, and he’s definitely crying. He hides occasional sniffles, trying to be quiet, but it’s obvious. He holds a gun Tris gave him, although I question why anyone would give this boy a gun. He looks so sad. It makes me want to tell him something. Anything. 

I say nothing. What would I say? I have no experience in comforting, and plus, I don’t think anything would calm him down by now. He just watched someone die, and it looks like that person was important to him.

So I keep my mouth shut and wait, like a societal norm follower should. There’s no talking. 

Instead, I think of a way I can get out of here. I wouldn’t have any trouble running from these hobos, but I would just be seen as a Dauntless traitor and killed on sight. If I still stick with Tris, my arm will have time to heal, and if we were ever caught, I can play the kidnapped damsel-in-distress role. It’s not my best plan, but it’s what I’ve got, and that’s better than nothing.

There are occasional screams and noises, and I pray one of those screams is Tris getting the wake up call she needs. None of us move, though. None of us dare. I pull my jacket tighter around myself, as if that makes me less evil in everyone’s eyes.

How loyal are these guys to the Stiff? The old man might not be, just considering age roles. However, the younger boy seems very close to Tris, I just don’t know their relationship yet. 

If there were some way to get him on my side, that would give me a huge advantage against Tris.

I put the thought away for now, but leave it in the corner of my mind. That could be useful in the future.

-

Once Tris finishes whatever she was doing, she practically runs down the hall, yelling for us to follow her. Now she has her boyfriend, although she’s definitely more beat up than before. The rest of us struggle to follow, but run after her. We go outside, and that’s when I see the train in the distance. We don’t stop heading for it, and the realization hits me that I’m going to have to get on that thing.

How am I supposed to get on? I ask myself. I could always ask for help, but I’d rather get hit by the train than do that, so I suppose I’m stuck with the help of one arm. I lag behind, but I’m finally able to pull myself up. I’m gasping for air, but at least I’m not the old guy, who looks like he hasn’t run a day of his life. I might laugh.

I sit down on the train, and it’s finally a nice break from all the mayhem, although the occasional jerk of the train will remind me just how jacked up my shoulder is. I guess I’m overreacting a little; I’m sure it’ll heal, but I’m never letting this go. I will die reminding the Stiff of this, if she doesn’t die first.

I finally take in the situation. Where are we going? I got dragged into some random charade, and now we’re headed to who knows where? I hope the Stiff has a plan. She better. She’s dragging lots of people with her, including me, and if she all the sudden loses it, we’re going down with her whether we like it or not.

I look at the young boy, Scrawny. He sits near me, but looks awful, like the ‘he went through hell’ kind of awful. However, he probably knows more about this whole thing than me, and he’s the easiest to ask, so I start a conversation.

“Do you know what Stiff over there was at the Dauntless compound for?” I ask casually. Meanwhile, he looks at me, confused for a second, before looking offended, and finally exhausted.

“She took something from the Erudite. I hardly know. Some kind of drive, but she hasn’t told me much yet.” His voice is quiet and shaky, but most of all hesitant. That makes sense, I probably seem like a major criminal to him right now.

I have more to ask, but he turns away, and I figure it’s best to leave it at that. At least I have some sort of visual of what this ‘mysterious object’ is. Getting that kind of thing from Tris could be my ticket to Jeanine’s favor.

-

When we got off the train, I looked around at the damage of our group. Tris looks like she’s having an existential crisis, Scrawny is actually crying now, Tobias is prepping his gun, and the old Abnegation guy is too close to me. 

I look at the Abnegation man. “Can you-“ I start, before he cuts me off.

“Sure kid,” as he puts an arm on my shoulder.

I flinch, physically cringe at the action; that’s definitely not what I meant. Weren’t Abnegations supposed to refrain from physical contact? I grab his hand and throw it off my shoulder, and then pretend I’m listening to the Stiff as she acts like our leader.

She takes us through the foliage and forest, and it hits me where we’re headed: Amity. Amity would be a lot more accepting than any of the other still existing factions (basically all but Abnegation), and it’s a little relieving to know we might be going somewhere that can take care of us. Maybe they won’t have the best healthcare system, but I’ll take what I can get.

It’s a blessing when the old guy, who Tris calls Marcus, makes a comment about knowing the area, and takes the lead, leaving me in the back with Scrawny. At least he’s gone; I have no clue what Marcus’ deal is, but I don’t care enough to find out. There, I finally remember where I’ve seen him before. He was the Abnegation speaker at the Choosing Ceremony.

Marcus eventually takes us to the Amity camp. It’s definitely… campy, alright. And… agricultural. There’s some people dressed in dim reds and yellows bouncing around, everyone talking, nobody without a smile. It’s a little strange, but Marcus takes us to the lady in charge, and pretty soon I’m given to their Amity doctors.

-

The lady in charge, Johanna, hands me over to some Amity guy, and from there he takes me to patch up my shoulder. I sit down on the chair in the nurse's office, and observe. The place is pretty plain and stale. The guy looks around, occasionally looking back at me, and then searches through a drawer. He’s probably never had to deal with a bullet wound before. Amity knows how to act when little Bobby has a farming accident out on the fields, but not when a Dauntless takes a bullet to the shoulder.

It’s a little funny, but at the same time, I just hope it doesn’t get worse. It already hurts bad enough, and if I’m stuck here for months waiting for this to heal, I’d rather get shot again. 

So I sit there as this guy grabs whatever makeshift things he has, and has me take off my jacket. I scowl, but comply, knowing it won’t be for so long. I then watch as he makes his lame attempt to patch up my wound. No painkillers or anything. He then lets me put my jacket back on, put my arm in a fabric sling, and instructs me to “take it easy.”

I’m let out with a pat on the back and a small bottle that I assume is the painkiller medicine he didn’t give me earlier. Thanks a lot, I guess. I unscrew the cap instantly, and take out the dropper full of clear liquid. The simple label says to take a dropful every six hours, and now is as good a time as any. It tastes sour, although it’s not bad, just a lot different from Dauntless medicine.

This is where I begin internally crying as I walk to the cafeteria, where dinner is currently going on. I look around wearily for anyone I recognize. Marcus and Johanna. Great. I grab a meal from Amity’s school-like system and take my small tray to go sit next to the two adults I know. It’s a lot better than sitting with any of the other teenagers, specifically the Stiff, but it’s still boring. At least the pain in my shoulder has dulled a little.

From where I sit, I look at a far off table where Tris and her team are. It’s just her, her boyfriend, and Scrawny. Her little support system hanging onto her every word.

What I’d give to wring her neck. I’m not sure why I haven’t done it at this point, she’s been such a nuisance ever since I’ve known her. I’m not sure if there’s one specific reason I would love to slit her throat when she sleeps, but it’s instead multiple, from the tiniest annoyance, to the fact she gets everything I deserve for doing nothing.

She thinks she’s better than everyone, and she plays the hero until she kills and shoots perfectly innocent people. It’s sickening, and every word from her makes me want to strangle her. It would be easy too. Without a gun, she couldn’t possibly take anyone in a fight, especially me. I was always high on the Dauntless initiation charts for a reason. She saw what I did to Edward when he pissed me off. If she keeps going, I’ll use more than a butter knife.

The Stiff’s table is all discussing something very loudly, I just can’t make out any of it. Whatever it is, though, must be important. Maybe about the Erudite simulation she stole. I just don’t understand why she would say anything to the Abnegation boy, though. Telling her boyfriend makes sense, but this kid has to be pretty important for her to spill all her plans. Maybe they were really good friends in Abnegation.

He’s already looking a lot better than on the train; his brown curly hair is combed, his glasses are finally aligned, and he’s definitely talkative with Tris. He looks a lot more put together, and maybe I misjudged his character earlier. His face is also very clear; he’s probably one of those crazy people with a whole skin care routine, if that’s even allowed in Abnegation.

I turn and then wave lightly at Marcus, completely interrupting his conversation (and flirting, ew) with Johanna, then point at Tris’ table.

“Hey, who’s the Abnegation boy with Tris and Four?” I ask casually.

Marcus looks annoyed, but answers, “that’s Caleb. He’s Tris’ brother.”

Brother?

Caleb, huh? Tris’ brother? That’s not bad, right? Shouldn’t be, he’s his own individual person. 

He can’t possibly be like his sister, right? He’s already been a lot kinder and smarter, there’s no way he’s anything like her. 

He doesn’t look like her. Looks a lot better, though.

Wait, so he’s the famous Caleb that defected from Abnegation? Where did he go again? So he’s the one Tris kept talking about in initiation! 

And Tris’ father and mother, those were his parents too… holy David Tennant on a frickin’ motorcycle, he watched his father die, and I saw him watch it. Who knows, maybe he witnessed his mother’s death too. 

Did I tell him anything about my plans? I don’t remember, but I might have just screwed up my whole plan.

I must look insane as I stare at Caleb’s table, a million thoughts going through my head. I’m pretty sure Marcus continued his conversation with Johanna minutes ago, but I’m stuck going through that huge chunk of information I just swallowed. 

I don’t even know why that’s important to me, but everything just connected, and at the same time it’s terrifying. How can this guy, Caleb, possibly be related to her? I had an entire [poorly put together outline of a] plan to get him on my side against the Stiff, but that might suddenly be impossible.

Unless?…

-

I hardly touched my food, threw the rest of it away (I’m pretty sure some Amity woman gasped watching me), and headed to my small dorm. First, I got ready, and now I lie down in bed. The window is shut tight, the air is musty, and although I lie down, my eyes stay open. My shoulder throbs every second, so much louder in the silence. I shuffle a little, before I give up after probably five minutes and sit up. I search around the room for something to do, when I find a map of Chicago. I take it, grab my gun and shove it in my pocket, then leave my dorm quietly to find someplace to be. 

I eventually found a nook with a small wooden couch and a lamp. It’s definitely better than sleeping, so I take a seat and read the map of Chicago, going through each faction at a time, starting at Dauntless and going around the city.

I’m there for about an hour when I hear footsteps, and I put my map down quickly. Who would possibly be up right now? The Amity all go to sleep at the same time. I dim the lamp, and watch whoever comes around the corner. I hold the gun in my pocket, but don’t take it out. I wouldn’t be able to shoot it well anyway, thanks to my arm, but intimidation is always good to have.

A young man walks into the hallway I’m in. His head is hung low, hands shoved in his pockets, and he has the hood of his jacket on. It’s hard to see with the lighting, but I soon recognize him to be Caleb. He walks right past me, but now might be the best time to enact my plan since we’re alone. 

Before he goes too far, I speak up. “What are you doing up past curfew?”

Caleb instantly looks around, before finding me. He stumbles a little, it’s pretty funny, although he calms down when he realizes it’s just injured little me.

He isn’t wearing his glasses like usual, and his hair is messy, but he’s still not bad looking. He seems natural. He looks a little better than he does wearing his glasses.

“There’s a curfew?” He asks, although he turns away a second afterwards like he regrets asking that.

“How am I supposed to know?” I say, standing up. I let go of the gun in my pocket and lean on the wall with my good arm. 

Now, how do I approach him? This has to work out flawlessly, and if it does, I’ll have another teammate against the Stiff. I decide to attack first, just a little, so I add, “Not a sappy Amity, Stiff,” making sure to emphasize the nickname.

He doesn’t even blink at the name. Now I’ll have to move on to another strategy. 

“What’s your name?” He asks me, politely. 

Now, what strategy is next? Flirting? Sounds good. I have no clue if he’s into that, but it’s never failed the very few times I’ve tried it (like twice. You think I like flirting with people? WRONG. Major wrong. I hate talking to women like a normal person, and then every man I’ve been with has sucked, so I hardly try. You know the real one who could flirt? Molly. Hardcore lesbian, absolute jerk, and somehow got all the girls. I really need to channel Molly right now). So I poke at him a little.

“I’m Peter. And you’re the Stiff’s brother. I can see who got the looks,” I say, trying to smirk like a sane individual. Caleb’s face gets red, before looking away. I can’t tell how he feels, but he looks uncomfortable. Bad move, inner Molly failed me.

“What are you doing up?” He asks.

“I don’t really sleep,” I say casually, shrugging.

He looks back at me again. “How’s your arm?”

I look at my poorly slinged arm. “Not much Amity doctors can do. Guess they don’t know how to react to violence. It still hurts, too, no thanks to your sister.”

“She’s a good person,” he replies too quickly.

I raise an eyebrow, stepping closer to him. “Is that what you think, or is that what she told you? She’s the one who left your family alone, shot me, and she’s the reason your parents-” 

“Your point?” He asks sharply, cutting me off. Nice, that’s the reaction I wanted.

“I mean, how can you possibly know if she’s right? Or if she’s just a vigilante, in desperate need of attention?”

Caleb pauses for a while, and I know I’ve got him thinking. He’s silent for a long time, before he finally turns away and leaves. “Have a good night, Peter,” he mutters before he hurriedly walks away.

“You know I’m right!” I remark, hoping he heard me. 

This plan is going amazingly.

-

I woke up after a good 4 hours of sleep. It was a lot more refreshing than I thought, and although it wasn’t top notch sleep, it was definitely good. The time I spent awake also gave me plenty of time to think about my next move. Right now, Caleb knows who I am, and where I stand in relation to his sister. It might take a while to get in his head, considering his reaction from yesterday, but that wasn’t a bad first move, if I do say so myself.

After taking my medicine, I change and head towards breakfast, following the light and friendly Amity crowd. It’s sickening how much they smile. If one more Amity makes a concerned comment about my frown or bloodied arm, I’m going to vomit.

The first person I look for when I walk in the Cafeteria with my warm food is Caleb. I find him almost instantly: tall, Abnegation clothes with buttons in the wrong holes, lanky, and bed hair. What surprises me, though, is that I don’t recognize who he’s talking to. It’s a short girl with a blonde pixie haircut, and-

The girl turns around, and I catch a glimpse of her face. It’s Tris. Hmm. She got a haircut. Now I have the longest hair in the ‘group.’ I smirk as I see the haircut from a new point of view. Looks like she did it herself without a mirror.

I don’t pay any more attention to them as I sit down next to Marcus again and zone out. 

After breakfast, all the Amity and outcasts meet together around a large tree, like a conference room. I’m not entirely sure why I’m there, but everyone else is, so it’s most likely something important. 

I don’t listen for a while, sitting on the floor in the very back, picking at the grass and throwing the torn out blades onto the dirt walkway. This is my tiny rebellion for how much I hate staying in Amity.

Soon, Johanna begins talking at the front, discussing what Amity is going to be doing about the refugees from other factions. Now that is important. I listen more intently, looking up to hear what Johanna has to say as she addresses everyone in the faction.

“We have arrived at the conclusion that we will establish our faction headquarters as a safe house for members of all factions,” she begins, “under a set of conditions.” I raise an eyebrow, then look at everyone I know for their reaction.

“The first condition is that no weaponry of any kind is allowed on the compound. The second is that if any serious conflict arises, whether verbal or physical, all involved parties will be asked to leave. The third is that the conflict may not be discussed, even privately, within the confines of this compound. And the fourth is that everyone who stays here must contribute to the welfare of this environment by working. We will report this to Erudite, Candor, and Dauntless as soon as we can. You are welcome to stay here if and only if you can abide by our rules.”

Wonderful. We won’t stay a week.

Everyone looks nervous, especially Tris. She’s probably thinking about the hard drive she has. She’s technically not supposed to have that now, and it would be a shame if I reported her to Johanna for it-

Actually, there’s possibly a better course of action. Where nobody will be kicked out of the compound, and where I can still impress Jeanine when I return to Erudite and Dauntless.

I can steal it.

But for now, that has to wait, because instantly after the large meeting, Johanna gathers all of the refugees for a special conversation: chores. In what seems to be a ‘world-ending’ time, chores were the furthest thing from my mind, but I guess if I’m gonna be allowed to stay, I have to do my share.

I’m lucky when I am handed a broom instead of a shovel. I literally let out a sigh of relief. I’m told I will be sweeping the walkways of the compound, and for the first time since I’ve been shot, I genuinely smile. These black nails will not be caught gardening, thank you!

Not even a minute later, I am genuinely smiling again when I learn for my chores I will be paired with Caleb Prior. “Hey Stiff!” I call to him, waving exaggeratedly. He does not look ’in the mood.’

“My name is Caleb,” he says in a monotone voice. 

I hum lightly, but don’t look at him, instead smirking and asking, “So, where do you think we should start?”

“We can start here, and then go around the conference hall.” I nod in agreement, and we’re sweeping soon after.

I have motivation for a good 20 seconds before I lose interest in the idea of moving dust around. Maybe that’s just me; Caleb looks like he’s at home. He’s got to be insane to enjoy hard manual labor like this. Actually, that makes perfect sense. Being from Abnegation, he was probably content doing chores.

I stick to a small corner of the hallway, sweeping up and spreading around the same pile of dirt and crumbs, before gathering it all up again. Now would be a suitable time to whistle, but through all the amazing wonderful very useful and disciplining things I learned in my childhood, I was never taught how to do that. To substitute, I hum a little song I remember hearing on the train everyday to school.

My mother taught me how to sweep. Between the time I came home from school and my father got home from his job, she would be my friend. She would give me pointers on how to pick up everything, even when sweeping piles of garbage into the dustpan seemed like an infinite loop. She taught me many life lessons I often took for granted, and now is one of those rare times I’ve taken into account just how much she did for me.

As he moves down the hallway, I follow behind. It’s been a few minutes before I speak up again. “You think about last night?”

He looks around for a second, before answering harshly, “If you’re trying to get me to side with you or whatever, it’s not going to work.”

“Hey, why would I want to side with you? I was just wondering what your opinion on your sister was.” He’s silent, so I keep going. “You have potential to do something great, yet you stay with this crowd.”

He ignores me again, this time sweeping further away from me, although I follow, sweeping my meager pile into his.

“Imagine what you could do with the Erudite.”

Caleb looks up this time, and responds, “I was in Erudite, actually.”

That surprises me. I stop sweeping for a little, putting a hand on my hip. I remember he was a transfer with his sister, but I guess I never questioned where he went. “That explains some things,” I say, resisting the urge to call him a ‘nose’. “Why would you want to leave?”

“I found out they were leading an attack on Abnegation, and I left.”

A pause. “But clearly, Erudite knows what they’re doing.”

Caleb finally turns around to face me, looking frustrated and adorable. “What do you want? Me to admit they’re good? To leave? What are you even doing in Amity if you’re so adamant on leaving?”

Wow, that’s a lot of questions, pal. I take a second to think, before taking a deep breath and answering. “Well, if you haven’t noticed, your Stiff sister shot me, so I might be stuck here till I can hold a gun again. As for my purpose, I don’t know, maybe I just wanted to get to know a handsome guy like you.”

He looks in my eyes for only a second. He has deep, green eyes that I never noticed before, but they’re like the green shade of the names on the initiation board in Dauntless. He looks back down at his broom.

I don’t say anymore as we sweep the floor together in silence, although I sneak occasional glances at the boy I may be stuck with for a long time.

(Not like I’m complaining or anything)

-

That night wasn’t as bad as the other nights. I got a little more sleep, which is always appreciated, but I couldn’t stop going back to my conversation with Caleb. He used to be in Erudite, but he ran away with his sister. It’s baffling how he doesn’t see the benefits Erudite brings, although if I remind him more, I might be able to get him back. He would probably be accepted back, too, especially if we both showed up with the hard drive.

It’s funny how I have no idea what’s on this hard drive, yet somehow I know this could secure my future. There’s no way the Stiff would protect it like that if it wasn’t important.

Right now, my main goal is getting that hard drive and giving it to Jeanine. Second, getting Caleb on my team against Tris. I don’t know why it’s crucial for me to have him, but he seems… necessary. I’ll just grab him along the way. Third, I’ll murder Tris in her sleep. Then Caleb and I can laugh in Four’s face as he mourns the death of his underage girlfriend.

I wake up early, and know this is my only chance. Tris isn’t in her room right now (one guess where she is), and so as quietly as I can, I open her dorm door, and begin the search for the hard drive.

The first place I check is under the bed. Nothing. Then under her pillow. I went expecting nothing, but when I lift her pillow, a loaded gun sits on the bed. 

I swallow. I already have my own, but it might help to take hers. Hesitantly, I put the pillow back down. I'm wasting my time. Once I find the hard drive, I’ll take her gun.

After a couple more minutes of searching, I come across a small drive in her dresser. Perfect. I shove it into my pocket, and then look around. It’s dead quiet.

Carefully, I make my way back to where the gun lies, when the door is slammed open, and I’m left face to face with Tris.

-

Needless to say, I didn’t win the fight. Of course, she provoked it, and I tried to ‘avoid conflict’ as the Amity encouraged, but the moment she knew I had the hard drive, she attacked me. Worst of all, she attacked my bad 

shoulder specifically.

Four took the hard drive, and if I wasn’t in pain enough, now I have to deal with a longer healing time and a shoulder that screams in sharp pain every move I make. Again.

I swear I’m going to kill her.

Right now, I’m dragged to a place called the Conflict Room . Looks like time-out to me, and that would be perfectly in character for the Amity. Two Amity guys grab me by the arms and drag me, and no matter how many times I curse at them, they don’t let go, instead taking me directly in the room.

There a man sits, and he’s making… tea. I hate tea. I sit down in front of the man, a desk separating us. “Do you know why you’re here?”

What kind of question is that? I roll my eyes and lean back in my chair. “Sure.”

“We understand you weren’t the one to engage, but just as a precaution…” 

Suddenly, I feel a sharp pain in my neck, and dark spots cloud my vision. My hand rushes up to my neck, and I turn harshly at whoever did that. I see one of the guys who brought me in, holding a syringe full of a grass green liquid. I pull my jacket tighter around myself, and fold my arms defensively.

I blink repeatedly, a scowl on my face, before it kind of just. Melts away . I blink some more, but my hands fall to my side.

“How do you feel?” The man making tea asks me. 

I hum. How do I feel? There was a reason I’m here, but I can’t exactly remember it. It’s a nice room, and the windows let the sunshine in perfectly. It’s very aesthetically pleasing.

“I feel… I feel fine,” I say, looking around some more for any recollection of why I ended up here. I have no clue why, but it feels nice, like I’m floating away on a cloud. “What is this?” I say, gesturing around my face.

“It’s the Peace Serum. It ensures nobody starts a conflict. It’s in all the bread here.” I stand, slowly, my hand tracing the wooden chair. “Would you like some tea?” The man asks me.

I smile. “No, but thank you!”

I then leave the room, and walk briskly to where I have to be: chores! There’s a special closet for all the brooms, and I make sure to grab my favorite one (the blue one. Blue has always been a pretty color). I then go to the front of the Conference Room, where I’ve agreed to meet Caleb-

Caleb! I hope he’s here, and I hope he’s in a good mood today! I surely am. He never talks, I wish he would talk to me. Oh, that might be because I’m a bad person. If I apologize, will he talk to me? 

I’m sure of it. When I see him arrive with his own broom, I wave and smile at him brightly. “Hey Caleb!” I say, walking up to him.

He stops in his tracks. “What’s wrong with you?” He asks after a second. 

“Nothing’s wrong! I just wanted to see you, and to apologize. I was being a little mean the other night. I guess that’s sorta my thing. I’m mean, right?”

He just stares at me, before shrugging, and saying “Whatever.”

He begins sweeping, but I frown. “So, how are you?”

“I… I’m okay. What about you?” He asks without looking up.

I begin sweeping alongside him, aiding him with his pile of dirt and trying to get closer than usual. “I’m doing alright! I tried to steal that drive thing from your sister, and well, she’s a good fighter if I’m being honest, so we got caught fighting, but they injected me with this, uh, thing, and now I feel great!”

And I do! I haven’t felt great like this since my early childhood. Everything I do seems to bring back a wave of nostalgia that assures me that I shouldn’t be worried. Everyone is kind here, and I even have a friend! Caleb!

I keep talking. “I didn’t mean anything by that night. I just wanted to scare you, but I don’t know why I would do that. You seem nice!”

Maybe if I were nicer, I could talk to him more. It’s true, he is very nice. Never to me though. I’ll keep trying!

“You’re also smart, I think. You don’t talk a lot, but you understand me.”

Caleb bites his lip, but says nothing, and the thought of sweeping crosses my mind for a second, before I want him to talk again.

“Hmm, so, do you like Amity, Caleb?”

I like saying his name. It’s a pretty name, and you know what else is pretty? Blue. Wonder what Caleb would look like wearing blue. Pretty, I guess. I chuckle to myself, as Caleb raises an eyebrow, but doesn’t question me, instead answering.

“I like it here decently enough. They’ve given me books to read, the food is good, and I… suppose the dorms are clean and comfortable.” I wait for more. “It reminds me of Abnegation.”

I see a hint of a smile, before his face falls and it’s replaced by a blank stare. I wish he kept smiling, he seemed so… calm. Happy.

“I haven’t seen you smile before,” I say. “But it makes me want to smile! You astound me, Caleb.”

He looks up, chuckling a little, before returning to sweeping. “Glad I’m inspirational.”

-

Immediately after I finish sweeping up the walkways, I wave goodbye to Caleb, before skipping off to lunch. I spy Marcus and Johanna, then Four eating by himself, and then a group of Abnegation refugees. I decide to make my way to Four, who I never see alone. Maybe he just needs some company. I don’t remember how we know each other, but maybe we can become good friends!

“Hey,” I say, grinning, placing my tray down across from Four. He looks at me with an expression I don’t understand, but I sit down, and begin eating.

“How are you, Four?”

He looks like he’s about to choke on his food. I’m pretty sure I said that normally, unless he misunderstood. I repeat the phrase, but he just coughs into his elbow before nodding, and saying, “I heard you the first time,” in a deep, gravelly voice.

“So?”

“Um, I’m alright. What’s wrong with you?”

Hey, there is something I remember! 

“That’s what Caleb asked me! I remember!” I exclaim, before taking a large bite of an apple. It tastes amazing and familiar, like I ate this exact apple when I was a kid. I wonder if Caleb likes these apples. I would be nice if I gave it to him. Giving is nice. I look around slightly for Caleb, although he’s nowhere to be found. I frown, but it’s quickly replaced when I bite into my apple again.

Four talks. “Cool.”

I hum, and rest my head in my hands, thinking. There was a reason I sat here, but I’m not sure why. How do I know Four? He was with me during Dauntless Initiation, I think. So was Tris. Oh! And Tris’ brother is Caleb! I’m pretty sure me sitting here had something to do with him.

“Is Caleb coming?” I ask Four.

“I don’t think so,” he says, unsure. “Seriously, Peter. What’s up with you?”

“Huh? Oh, nothing. Amity just injected me with something after a squabble. Feels great though,” I say, dragging out the last word.

Four sighs, rolling his eyes. “That’s what happened to Tris.”

Curiosity pushes me to ask, “And where is she?”

Four opens his mouth, before closing it again. He looks away for a second, before standing. “You should come with me, Peter. Bring your food too.”

I listen, taking my tray as he leads me out of the cafeteria. I grab another apple along the way. We arrive at the dorm hallway, and he asks me which room I’m staying in. I point him to it, and he aggressively pushes me into my dorm.

“You can eat your food here. I think you’d appreciate it later if you stayed inside for now. Once you’re feeling better, you can come out.” 

I nod as I open the blinds to the window in my room. I haven’t opened them since I’ve arrived, but the sun shines nicely into my room, and I plop onto my bed. Then I smile.

“Thank you!” I say, eating my food on my bed as Four sighs and leaves.

I’m just finishing my second apple when movement outside my window catches my eye. I set my tray down and stand up, looking out the window, when I see one particularly lanky boy walking past, holding a book.

Caleb! My heart races, and I find myself smiling. I keep watching him as he sits down peacefully on a bench next to a large tree, and begins reading the book he brought. 

He looks so peaceful as he reads. He can’t see me, but I smile softly at the sight, resting my head on my hand.

Four comes in later. I’m not sure how long it’s been, so I finally turn away from the window and look at Four. He looks exhausted, angry, but also confused. Does he need help?

He scowls a little at seeing me, before asking what I’m looking at. At the question, I grin and look away. I feel like a little kid hiding their crush from an adult. Not like I’m doing that.

Four sighs, before letting his curiosity win and joining me next to the window.

“Caleb?” Four asks, running his hand over his face. He looks tired, and annoyed. He found out what he needed, why is he still mad? Hmm. I don’t like Four.

Four pulls me to the side a little, before aggressively closing the blinds. I complain, but he begins listing off ways I’m “out of it.” Now I really don’t like Four. I don’t listen as I pick at my cuticles. Looks like I’ll have to get my nails redone here. I wonder if the Amity know how to do nails. 

Finally, I’m left pouting at Four when he leaves, but at the same time kicking my feet, wondering when the next time I see Caleb will be.

-

I regain my consciousness a few hours later, and realize I will actually spontaneously combust if I have to face Four ever again.

What. The. Hell . Was. That?!

I don’t remember much of the experience, but I remember two things in detail: The phrase “Giving is Nice,” and a faint vision of me talking to Four about Caleb. That was by far the worst, most humiliating serum/simulation I have ever been under. At this point, I’ll just crawl into a hole and let everyone forget my existence.

I have no clue what that whole deal with Caleb was, but it was like I didn’t know how to act when thinking about him. It was absolutely humiliating. And if Four witnessed any of that?

Four knows more about me than anyone else. Not intentionally, he just happens to be there every time some secret of mine is forcefully revealed, like during my fear landscape, or with this serum.

I wash my face roughly like that’ll make me forget today, before I pull on my jacket and slouch over to the cafeteria. I debated whether I should just skip meals for the next week, but I’m starving, aggravated, and done with everything, so I give in and get food.

I stack my plate up with things like mashed potatoes and asparagus. I despise asparagus, but I hardly pay attention to what I put on my plate as I rush to grab everything I need and go right back to my dorm room.

I practically sprint out the cafeteria, but I stop when someone puts their arm out in front of me. 

Four. I glare at him, but say nothing. He looks just as unhappy as I am, but quietly says, “I won’t tell anyone what happened.”

I refuse to validate him with a response as I push past him and lock the door to my dorm as fast as possible. But as much as I hate to admit it, I’m grateful. Nobody needs to know.

-

I spent the next day mostly in my room. I’m insanely bored, but it’s better than going out. I leave only for meals, skipping my chores, and only actually leave during dinner time. 

Now I stand in a corner of the cafeteria, looking for somewhere to eat. I spy Four and Tris. Not there. Marcus and Johanna? Not at all. Finally, I find a table where Caleb sits, alone and reading a book. I let out a long sigh, but try to smirk before making my way to the table where he sits and putting my tray down. I sit in front of him despite the confused look he gives me.

“Peter?” 

“Yeah, it’s really me,” I say with an annoyed tone in my voice, waving a hand. “I know I was on that drug earlier. Barely remember though.”

“Glad to have you back,” he says sarcastically, picking at a piece of bread. As he reaches to taking a bite, though, I lean over and gently take it from his hands. There’s a second of contact, but that has his face red in a second. It’s hilarious, and I’m very proud of myself, but I pretend like I don’t notice his reaction as I take the roll of bread and chuck it at Tris, who sits at a nearby table. It nails her right in the shoulder, and I laugh like it’s the funniest thing I’ve seen all week. 

When I turn back to Caleb, he looks at me like I just beheaded Tris. “What the heck?” 

“Don’t eat the bread here, it’s filled with the serum I was on. Trust me, it’s not fun,” I explain, pushing some hair out of my face.

Caleb looks down at his food, like he’s ashamed. “Thanks. That’s good to know.”

“Should have known none of these people are naturally this dumb.”

He nods in agreements, but we don’t talk anymore as we finish our food and awkwardly wave bye to each other when we’re done.

-

For the next few days, I sat with Caleb at meal times. We hardly talked, but I really appreciated his company, and the longer I spent time with him, the more I’m curious to know more about him. It terrifies me that the only reason I sit with him is to chat. 

Caleb genuinely baffles me. Everything about him. His logic is insane, but he always keeps it to himself, and I feel somewhat guilty knowing he thinks he can’t talk to anyone. 

And it makes me feel something when he talks to me. What is so special about me that he is willing to humor me with conversation? What am I feeling? It’s a sick feeling, the kind of feeling that grabs your heart and wrings it out, the kind that feels like a punch to the gut. But for some reason, this time, I welcome it. Does that make me insane?

It’s like the sky's the limit with him. He has so much to say, but he is too scared to say it.

And I know I would move mountains to hear it all.

-

Today is a rough day, and as much as I hate to admit it to myself, the thought of Caleb’s company seems pleasant, even if we don’t talk. I don’t have to tell him that, but I sit at the same table we always do in the dining hall. I don’t want to get up to get food, so I don’t. I would rather starve than move at all right now.

I rest my head in my arms, face down on the table. I’m probably smudging my eyeliner, but I still don’t move as I wait for Caleb.

I finally raise my head to look when I feel someone joining me at the table. However, I frown when I notice it’s just a young Abnegation girl. She looks like she’s my age, and everything about her screams Abnegation, from her choice of hairstyle, to her lack of any accessories or anything relatively interesting. I put my head down again, but in a way where I can look at her. I must look like a freak compared.

“Who are you?” I ask her with a monotone voice. I’ve seen her around, and she’s usually talking to Tris, but I haven’t talked to her at all. She’s the spitting image of your stereotypical Stiff.

“My name is Susan. And you’re Peter, right?” She says, completely ignoring the rude tone of my voice. She politely eats her food; a meager amount of veggies and a couple depressed looking chicken strips. 

“Yeah. What are you doing here?” I ask, not giving up my tone of voice.

She blinks. “You usually sit here with Caleb, right? I was hoping to talk with him.”

In an instant, the impression I have of her is a leech. A leech of Caleb’s attention, taking it from me. I bury my head back in my arms, refusing to look up, no matter who joins the table afterwards. I hear Caleb’s voice, but I might as well leave if Susan is going to chat with him.

I’m about to stand up when there’s a booming sound to my left, and I can’t help but turn to look at it. 

Tris stands at the entrance to the cafeteria, having slammed the doors open, and she runs up to Four, who sits at a nearby table. From what I can hear, we’re in trouble. 

Caleb, Susan and I stand to listen to what Tris frantically tells Four. Looks like she fell out of a tree. 

“Erudite,” she says, jabbing a finger at the air around her, before putting her hands on her knees and breathing hard. Four goes up to her, putting a hand on her back.

“Coming here?”

She nods. 

“Do we have time to run?”

Tris shakes her head. By now, all the Abnegation around us are listening, gathering to hear Tris and Four converse.

I can’t be captured by Erudite. I have nothing to offer, I’ll be killed. Nobody will hear my side of the story, so for now, the best course of action would be to listen to the others.

“Why do we need to run?” Little Miss Goody Two Shoes ‘Susan’ asks. “The Amity established this place as a safe house. No conflict allowed.”

“The Amity will have trouble enforcing that policy,” says Marcus. “How do you stop conflict without conflict?”

I speak up. “But we can’t leave. We don’t have time, they’ll see us.”

“Tris has a gun,” Four says. Little does he know I actually knew that, and I have one too. “We can try to fight our way out.”

Four starts towards the dormitory, before Tris raises a hand. “Wait. I have an idea. Disguises. The Erudite don’t know for sure that we’re here. We can pretend to be Amity.”

I look down at what I’m wearing. I wear red shorts, but an oversized gray Abnegation shirt I got from the refugee party, gloves, and my black Dauntless jacket. 

“Those of us who aren’t dressed like the Amity should go to the dormitories, then. Put your hair down, mimic their behavior,” Marcus says.

He doesn’t have to tell me twice.

I quickly run to my dorm, where I lock the door and face myself in the mirror.

I’m a nightmare. Eyeliner, black nails, black jacket, studs, the Abnegation shirt, and my hair is half tied up. I look as far from Amity as you can get. I don’t even know where to start. The Dauntless comes and it doesn’t go.

I quickly take off my jacket, and replace my Abnegation shirt with a dull yellow one I find at the very bottom of my dresser. I make sure to bury any gray as deep as I can in Amity clothing.

Looking in the cabinets, I’m surprised to find my gun. I haven’t even thought about it, and now it’s just another problem lying in front of me. I grab it, and throw it onto my bed, telling myself I’ll figure out what to do with it later.

I then rush back to the bathroom, where I take off any makeup I’m wearing (stupid waterproof eyeliner won’t come off), take out my hair tie, and take out my studs. I want to keep the studs -they remind me of initiation-, but the thought that they will be discovered drives me to bury it with the Abnegation shirt. I do the same thing to any makeup I have, and soon my room looks clean and cleared. What I have left to change is my jacket and my nails. 

Amity can’t possibly expect me to get rid of my jacket. I panic for a second, and anxiety rests in my stomach. For what feels like an hour, I genuinely question if I would be willing to be caught for this jacket. There are so many consequences that could come from it being seen, but I clutch it and know I won’t let it go unless I take it with me. I grit my teeth, looking between my jacket and my nails, and as I hear commotion begin outside, the pressure to do something crushes me. 

I take a long breath before I look around for a bag of some kind. I find a brown tote bag, and without hesitating shove my jacket in it. I then sling the tote bag over my shoulder. 

Now, my hands. I curse repeatedly in my head, unsure of what to do. What kind of Amity has scars riddling their arms? Nobody knows, and it’s not exactly a trait I’m comfortable with showing the world.

Loud shouts come from outside, and I take one last look at my arms. I can pass the scars as something from gardening work. 

I nod to myself before shoving my gun in my tote bag, doing a once over of the room, and leaving. I run back to the mess hall, hurriedly peeling off my nail polish and trying to find anyone I recognize.

There’s faces I’ve seen before, but everyone looks so different now. I back into a corner, unsure of where to go or what to do, still attempting to get off any nail polish and mentally crying at the whole situation. I push past the urge to actually cry as the sound of my heart drowns out the commotion.

I had an entire plan, and somehow everything was ruined. I smile nervously, like I’m trying to blend in, but I clutch my tote bag tight and keep my arms close to my chest. 

I feel too exposed, and it’s driving me insane. People pass by, but I stay.

I hold my breath when Erudite cars pull up to the compound. There are 5 of them, and soon Dauntless with blue fabric bands around their arms come closer. 

Don’t look, don’t look -

Suddenly, I feel something that makes me flinch. Someone loops their arm through mine, and with no force at all guides me away from the corner I called my home. I turn, and literally see an angel.

Caleb. His eyes are bright, and he wears a smile that even has me convinced. It looks so real, and some part of me wishes it really is. My chest constricts at the mere idea Caleb is willing to help me blend in, and I follow along, with a soft smile I don’t have to fake.

“Sorry to take you like that,” he says, adding a little giggle at the end. That makes me laugh, and encourages me to add a comical skip to my step as I follow.

“I appreciate it,” I say. We walk together towards one of the tables, where he lets go of my arms and we sit down across from each other. 

Instinctively, I turn to look at the Dauntless trucks, but Caleb gently reaches out and moves my chin so I’m looking right back at him. 

My heart does a freaking ‘leap’ thing when we make eye contact, and now I’m pretty sure my face is an Amity worthy shade of red. My expression probably looks along the lines of horror and awe, because Caleb laughs, and I’m left with the leaping feeling playing on loop.

I don’t know if I want to rip my heart out of my chest or let it keep going, but it’s unfamiliar territory, and I slowly get the realization of what it could be.

He’s looking right at me. It takes me a second to shake off how odd the situation is, but I eventually smile again and mimic all of the Amity I’ve seen since we've been here.

“You look a lot different wearing yellow,” Caleb comments, covering his mouth with his hand, although I can see a smile reach his eyes.

I laugh at the comment. “Yeah! It’s definitely not my color.”

There’s a pause as he looks at me a little closer. “Actually, everything is different. Seeing you with your hair out, without your earrings, and… everything.”

I glance down at my outfit self consciously for a second. “Is that a bad thing?” I ask before I think.

“No! Not at all, you just look… different. Natural. Less Dauntless. Not bad though,” he says, a soft blush resting on his cheeks as he looks away.

A couple of Dauntless soldiers pass right behind him, and right now we’ve fallen out of the element. 

I say the first thing that comes to my mind. “So, that darn economy, huh?” He begins laughing, and I claim it as a mental victory for my idiocy. He shoves my good shoulder, and opens his mouth to say something, when a gunshot rings out.

I’m standing in a second, as I see Four fist-fighting an Erudite woman. She’s absolutely doomed, but more Dauntless come, guns at the ready, and I’m not very sure about our chances anymore.

Count on Four to mess everything up.

I debate whether I should take out my gun and help them, but someone touches my shoulder and I whip my head around to face them.

“I have to help Tris. Stay safe, Peter.” And then Caleb hugs me. 

He’s long gone by the time I let out the gasp I didn’t know I was holding in, but my hands fly up to my chest, like I’ve forgotten how to breathe.

Is it selfish of me to want more than a hug? I want everything he has to say. I want his past, and his plans for the future. I want his trust. I was never fit for Abnegation: I’m cursed to think selfishly.

And then the creeping feeling I’ve had since I’ve met Caleb finally punches me in the face.

I think I. 

Like. 

Him.

I want to simultaneously burst into tears and start breakdancing in joy, but I stand absolutely still as it really hits me.

I like him. In the ‘more than a friend’ way. 

My face drops as I think of the word: love.

I’m in love with Caleb Prior. 

Tris’ brother. Somehow, everything makes sense. Everything I said and did while on the Peace Serum, everytime my heart catapulted over a personal barrier when I talked to him.

But why is this realization coming at the worst of times? I’m literally motionless in the crossfire between us and the Dauntless traitors, and that’s not even what bothers me most. It’s the fact that I didn’t understand before.

I’m in love with Caleb.

And it makes sense. He’s so much smarter than anyone gives him credit for. He can read me like an open book, and yet he doesn’t judge me, but treats me as if I’m normal. From the time he helped me up the first time we met, to the time he dealt with me when I was on the Peace Serum, to the time he held my arm to stop me from having a breakdown. 

To the time he gave me a hug and didn’t wish ill upon me, like everyone I’ve met has.

Suddenly, it sinks in how cheap I’ve been.

I regret everything I ever doubted him about. Thinking I could manipulate him, thinking he was too weak to make it through all this alive, to think he might fall for attempts to put him down.

It’s like-

I’ve shoved harshly to the side, knocking me out of my existential crisis. I crash to the ground, trying to understand what just happened. Tris stumbles next to me, and then I hear the impact of a bullet on the wall right behind me.

She just saved my life. 

I can’t kill her now! I mean, I could, but… wow, the Stiff just saved my life. What kind of monster would that make me if I killed her? More than if she didn’t save me. But what if I really, really wanted to?

My life just flashed before my eyes. I’ve done too much thinking for one day.

I scramble to stand up, clutching the bag with my jacket and gun. I don’t say a word, neither does Tris, and there’s a silent agreement that we’ll leave it that way.

All together, we rush for the door out, and begin running through the corn fields of Amity.

The Erudite cars begin moving, and pretty soon, they’re gaining on us. There’s gunshots and screams, but this could be my only chance to go back to Erudite and Dauntless. I have more of a chance of living if I return, even without the drive, than if I ran away with them.

There’s just one thing stopping me. Caleb.

I don’t think, but instead run to catch up to him, then pull him backwards by his arm.

He lets out a scream and shuts his eyes, covering his face with his arms, but I roll my eyes.

“I’m not going to kill you,” I say.

“What are you doing here?” He asks frantically, looking around. He’s sweating, and this is probably the worst time I could talk to him, but it could be now or never. “Come, we gotta leave!” He spits in my face.

“No. I’m not coming with you,” I say.

“You-“ he stutters out, “You’re joining them?”

“Duh. Isn’t that what I’ve always talked about?” He looks confused, and a little hurt, so I continue. “But you should come with me,” I say, looking into his eyes. I reach to take his hand, but he pulls it back quickly, and I’m scared I might have made a mistake.

“I know what I’m doing, and I’m not going to leave my sister to work for Erudite again,” he tells me. He breathes heavily, and sounds tired when he says, “Peter, we have to go, just come with us-“

“I can’t do that!” I cut him off. “I just- ah! Just come! If not for the cause…”

I choke on my words after that. 

For me, I urge myself to say. For me .

But I can’t force myself to say it, and instead look into his eyes, hoping against hope he knows what I’m trying to tell him.

Caleb freezes, looking directly at me.

Please come with me. 

Slowly, he takes my hand, and I let him. His gaze goes from me, to our hands, and back to me.

He struggles to speak. “Peter, I-“

Screams come from behind us, and he turns too quickly to look at it.

Screw long gay love confessions. I take my hand from his. I then grab his chin, turn him towards me, and press a soft kiss on his lips.

The feeling that rushing in after that is like a wildfire in my chest; my heart is beating a million miles per minute, and I’m confident I could lift up the sky to kiss him for the rest of eternity.

But it’s quick, and I let go. I’ve been too selfish. 

“You know where I’ll be, Gorgeous,” I tell him, looking into his beautiful green eyes one last time, before turning and disappearing into the corn fields to pursue my future.

I take my Dauntless jacket out of my bag and put it on. It gives me an instant sense of comfort, something to combat the dread that came from parting with Caleb. 

I don’t know if I'll ever see Caleb Prior again, but I already know I would do anything if he said the word.

Chapter Text

2.

He didn’t see me as a monster. He saw me as an equal, someone like him. I’d made so many mistakes, but with Caleb, I could have a fresh start. A new beginning.

-

(Midway through Book 2: Insurgent)

I tremble on the ride to Erudite headquarters.

The Erudite cars tread over the fields of Amity, driving over countless fallen stalks of corn. I grimace at the bumpiness of the drive, and how every so often, I’m launched a few centimetres out of my seat. I inhale and focus on the back of the seat in front of me, staring at the headrest. Two Dauntless with blue armbands sit to either side of me, their guns in hand. I eye theirs with jealousy. They took mine.

I don’t recognize either of them; one is a woman, who looks to be in her 30’s, and the other is a man who looks close enough to retirement. He’s not old, but after your 40’s, you’re not much help to Dauntless. Observing these people that are so much older than me makes me feel so much younger than I am. I feel like I’m still in Candor: weak, powerless, and forced to comply, to abide by their rules. It’s suffocating, and the car is cramped way too much for comfort.

And I wonder how I was so stupid to give myself up. I regretted it the moment the Erudite saw me, and I still regret it now. Sitting in this car is utterly humiliating. I’m left with nothing but the clothes I’m wearing. Nothing that makes me any different from them, and nothing that makes me myself. It’s like I’ve been stripped down to the skin, with how bare I feel. No gun, no eyeliner, no gloves. No Caleb.

I let out a breath and lean forwards to rest my head on the back of the seat in front of me.

How stupid I am.

I look back down at myself, as closing my eyes would make me too nauseous. I’ve never liked cars. I fold my arms tight and dig my fingers into both arms to keep me grounded. 

I shouldn’t say I’m scared, but it’s the truth (a very Candor confession). I knew they would most likely take me prisoner for a while, but the fact that I realized what I had to lose the second I’d made my choice of is… well, bad. I can’t let it break me. I can’t let it get to me, and I can’t make any more choices I regret. I refuse to let myself.

That doesn’t stop me from feeling nauseous. I don’t think I’ve made a mistake that I regret more than this one. For the first time, I start to really miss Amity. The sweeping I did every day, the sweet apples I ate, the lack of any pressure to perform. There were people, or at the very least, there was one person that cared for me in Amity. But I chose to run away from it. From him. Now I can only daydream about what would’ve happened if I followed Caleb.

I imagine what our lives could have been like if me and him both allowed our blood to drop into Amity’s bowl at the Choosing Ceremony. In any other scenario, I would be driven insane by the Amity, their smiles, the constant cheerfulness, and all the good things they try to find in the world, all the time. But if Caleb were there, I know it would be easy to appreciate every sight and sound, every time he looked at me and smiled.

He hardly smiled around me, though I wish I could’ve seen it more. I’m sure he never felt the same about me. I didn’t even question if he was gay or not. That’s probably the first thing I should have asked when I felt myself start to fall for him, but it’s a little too late for that now.

He must have seen me like everyone else does. Like a freak.

I pull my jacket sleeves over my hands again. I’m worried Caleb saw even a glimpse of what’s there.

We walked arm in arm, we hugged, and right before we parted, I held his hand in mine. I didn’t catch any signs that would reveal whether he noticed or not, but I know it would have been hard for him not to. He can read people like the Erudite he is. There’s no doubt he noticed.

-

The car comes to a stop, and I’m promptly shoved out of the vehicle. I try to get a grip on my surroundings, and look up to the skyscrapers of the Erudite compound. I’m left shocked at how advanced this part of the city is. How come Dauntless never had roads and buildings like this? Why is it Erudite exclusive?

The two Dauntless soldiers that were in the car with me grab my arms, and follow the large dark masses walking to the Erudite Headquarters.

There’s a lot of blue and white involved in Erudite’s architecture, and there’s a massive silver structure in the distance. It looks kind of like a bean. It makes me chuckle a little, although it’s mostly dry and forced. The bean is sort of funny, but it’s really unfortunate that it’s the only thing that can make me smile. My conditions are… less than optimal right now.

The Dauntless group floods into the important looking Erudite Headquarters building. It’s a large, glass skyscraper, and the moment we walk in, I’m overwhelmed by the amount of bookshelves. As pretty as they are, they seem like they’re purely for aesthetics, since they’re all color coded and dusty. I doubt any of them have been touched in, at least, a couple of months. All of the Erudite I see are on computers. Why would they want to use books with newer technology at their disposal?

While the rest of the Dauntless group heads down a hallway on the ground floor, the two guards that sat on either side of me in the car shove their way into an elevator, with me in tow. It’s already stuffed with a few noses, pushing their glasses up and holding a stack of books tightly. Every one of them reminds me of Caleb in some way, whether it’s their alert stance, or their slightly scuffed sneakers.

I don’t struggle as the Dauntless guards push me out of the elevator at our stop on the 13th floor (I swear there was some reason that this floor was the worst, I just can’t remember why that might be at the moment).

I’m forced to drag my feet in lieu of walking, and it feels like we’ve traveled the entirety of the floor by the time the Dauntless guards stop. One of them raises their hand and knocks on a large set of blue double doors. A couple of muffled voices can be heard from beyond the walls, and a clearer feminine voice cuts through them all, telling us to come in.

When we enter, the first person I see is Jeanine. She sits haughty on a plush couch, with blonder hair than I remember, and a blue blazer so saturated it makes me cringe. I want to spit at her, but there’s no point in making things worse. I have to pretend like I want to be here if I have any chance of getting a leg up.

There’s a few others beside her, but there’s only one I recognize from the start: Eric. I want to spit at him slightly more than I do Jeanine. He still looks as greasy as ever, but a couple of his piercings are gone, and others are replaced in a blue colour. Gross. I scour his face for any sign that he recognizes me, but I can’t find any indication that he does. He doesn’t even blink at my entrance. I almost scoff.

A table with a couple of large monitors and other various gadgets sits in front of the couch, although only one computer seems to be in use.

I stand up straighter, and as we stop in front of the group, I shrug the guards’ hands off my shoulders. I clear my throat, a little too loudly, because everyone’s eyes are watching me now. Even the nose who had his head buried in his research in the corner. I wish I looked even a little more presentable, but the Amity clothes will have to do for now.

“Who are you?” Jeanine asks, seeming a little annoyed, although she’s trying not to let it show. Most people wouldn’t pick up on it, but I’ve learned a lot from Candor. She leans forward and pushes her glasses up. I've never actually met the infamous Jeanine I’ve heard so much about before now. She seems crisper and sterner than I expected, and her expression gives off the impression that she could have me killed on the spot, if she wished.

I open my mouth to answer, but one of the guards interrupts me.

“We found him in Amity,” the guard to my left says. “He claims he used to work with the Dauntless, and wanted a place back.”

The guard to my right rolls his eyes.

I frown at the meager description given to me, but say nothing. Jeanine slowly raises an eyebrow, before turning to look directly at Eric. Everyone turns with her, and soon he looks uncomfortable. It’s kind of funny to see him not wanting to be the center of attention for once, considering that was all he ever tried to be in Dauntless.

What a hypocrite.

His eyes travel anxiously from me to Jeanine, and back, again and again. For a second I’m afraid he’s going to deny knowing me, essentially ending any chance I have at life here, but he quietly says, “It’s true. He was in my initiation class.”

Eric leaves it at that, and I feel rage slowly seep in. While it’s hilarious to see him kissing another person’s shoes, he’s still the only one here I could’ve had on my side. And now I have nothing. At least he didn’t tell her to have me executed. There’s always that. Any semblance of a plan that I might’ve had is hopeless by now.

Or so I think.

Jeanine shifts to look me in the eyes. “What’s your name, young man?”

“Peter,” I say, putting hands on my hips matter-of-factly.

Her lips twitch. “I believe I might know of you. Tell me, were you in the same class as Beatrice Prior?”

My blood begins to boil at the mention of her name. I take a deep breath, and try to keep my voice as steady as possible when I reply, “Yes, I was.”

Jeanine hums and looks away, facing the computer now. She then lightly pats the part of the couch next to her. “Sit down, Peter. There are some things I’d like to show you.” I sit beside her as she waves her hands at the guards who brought me here, urging them to leave. They do.

“What are you gonna show me?” I ask, sitting up as straight as I can.

Jeanine quickly searches through a drawer of the table in front of us, before taking out a small plug-in drive. “I’m going to show you everything your friend Beatrice has done.”

-

Now, I was never on good terms with Will. We had a few classes in school together, and we slept on neighboring bunks during initiation. I never truly liked him that much, but I definitely didn’t have any grudges against him. In fact, the only reason I had to hate him at all was for his friendship with Tris and Christina.

I never even thought about what happened to him, but Jeanine shows me dozens of videos, files, and even Tris’ fear landscape.

Plenty of times, I look around the room, pinch myself, or shift in the chair, to avoid what’s on the screen. Why is she showing all of this to me? As much as I love to watch Tris suffer, every video I see seems like a total violation of her privacy. I would never want anything about my fear landscape revealed to anyone, especially not someone I hate.

The video that shows Will's death starts with the two of them facing off in an alley, guns raised towards each other. The knowledge that she killed a friend must have absolutely broken her, and I’m surprised that I never noticed her guilt. As much as it sucks for her that I know this, I sort of wish I had figured it out sooner. It would’ve been the perfect taunt, the perfect way for me to get on her nerves.

I don’t flinch when she shoots Will in the head.

She’s in a tank now. Water is starting to fill it up, and I can tell she’s going to drown. A woman saves her.

After that is a blotchy shot of Tris kneeling over that same woman, blood staining the ground. When I get a good look at her saviour’s face, I notice how alike her and Tris look. Without a doubt, it’s her mother.

The video right after that involves me. It’s where Tris, Caleb, their dad, and Marcus went into the Dauntless compound. This must be why Jeanine is familiar with me.

The last thing I get shown is her fear simulation. I suddenly feel uncomfortable, and can’t sit still to watch the clip. This could be crucial to any plans I make against Tris, but I can’t bring myself to focus on the screen in front of me. With my minimal respect I have for her privacy, I unfocus my vision to stare at a distant spot on the wall instead. After all, I do owe it to her after she saved my life in Amity.

Once it’s over, Jeanine takes the drive out of the computer, then wraps the drive in my hand. I hold the drive tight, nausea starting to set in. It’s warm from use, and small, but it feels like a 100 pound weight on my chest. I swallow, but say nothing as I place the USB into my jacket pocket. I feel more and more sick.

-

“And here’s your room, Peter,” Eric spits it, like he wants to get my name out of his mouth as quickly as possible. I’ve always hated Eric with a passion, and I think of how easy it would be to rip out his eyes, or crush his windpipe. I really consider doing it. Right here, right now. It would be nasty, but blood can be cleaned. I blink the desire away.

He opens the door to my dorm and does a mocking curtsy as I walk in. There’s a small bathroom and kitchen, all crammed into one room. A sad looking bed sits in the corner. The sheets are blue. Right now, Erudite is really making me hate that color.

“Jeanine says you start tomorrow. I don’t know how, but you must have really impressed her. She requested that you join her on a tour tomorrow, or whatever. Remember, no troublemaking, no drinking, and no running off to who knows where. You have a job now, like a real adult. Act like it.”

I give an uninterested nod in his direction, and that satisfies him enough to leave.

The second he closes the door, I reach into my pocket and throw the drive Jeanine gave me onto the ground. I back up from it with slow steps, like it’ll hurt me if I get too close. I stop and think. What am I doing?

Before I even have a chance to consider what’s happening, I grab the nearest thing to me: a lamp. I toss the shade off, and without hesitation, bring the base of it down onto the drive. There’s a dent, but I know it’s not enough to absolve me.

I need it gone.

I hit it again. And again. Over and over until the drive fractures and becomes nothing but tiny pieces of useless plastic. I breathe heavily, with my hands shaking as they hold the lamp above my head. I exhale slowly, lowering the lamp to the floor beside me.

I don’t know why I did that.

At least, I don’t know the whole reason. It’s like I can’t figure out what my brain is making me feel. I don’t feel sympathy for the Stiff or anything that’s happened to her. For the most part, it’s been her fault. Even when it isn’t her fault, I can’t bring myself to care.

One thing I do know is that if someone had recordings of everything I’d done wrong, I would want them to do the same thing I did. Erase them. Permanently.

-

I wake up, blinking sleep from my eyes. I barely got to rest, tossing and turning the whole night. I brush my teeth, staring blankly into the mirror. It isn’t my toothbrush though. It’s blue, and that marks it as worthless to me. I throw on some cheap, ill fitting Dauntless clothes that were given to me before leaving the dorm. A small box has been placed on the floor to the left of my door. I’m the only one currently living in the hallway, and it’s right next to my door, so I take it and quietly open it.

A black pistol with blue highlights sits in the box, alone with a holster to hold it. I take it without another thought, and toss the box in a garbage can on the way out.

I slightly lose my sense of direction by the time I make it to floor 13, but I can tell that I’m near Jeanine’s office when I hear a distant voice, bickering with someone who isn’t nearly as loud.

“But I’m Erudite! Check the records!” I try to figure out if the voice is male or female as they argue back and forth with a woman. She isn’t screaming like they are though, so I can hardly tell what’s really happening. I turn the corner, approaching the voices. At the end of the hall I see Jeanine, two Dauntless men, and a young man in a blue sweatshirt. He wears glasses, through which I can see familiar, green eyes.

Caleb.

I stop at the end of the hallway, still spying around the corner.

“I have to be in the system somehow. Seriously, can you not check the records?” Caleb keeps yelling at everyone frantically, alternating between looking at Jeanine and the guards holding onto him. He has the same “going through hell” look on his face that he did when his father died.

Jeanine stands straight, looking directly at Caleb without a hint of remorse in her expression. She pushes her glasses up, quite arrogantly. “I believe those were all deleted when you betrayed our faction, Mr. Prior.”

Was he captured? Were the others captured? How did that happen so quickly?

The guards begin to push Caleb down the hallway towards me, and I shuffle over to stand in front of Jeanine’s office door. I straighten my back so I don’t look like a shrimp from the side. Jeanine’s heels click on the tile as they all turn the corner, and I’m now able to see everyone clearly.

Caleb looks exhausted. He stands hunched with tense muscles, like he’s in pain, and there are dark bags under his eyes. He seems okay, almost like his normal self; yet at the same time, it’s like we’ve spent years apart and now I’m meeting someone entirely different.

His eyes lock with mine the second he sees me. I want to look away, but I can’t. His eyes are wide, and they look so, so innocent. It’s almost like I know this Caleb, similar to how I knew the smart Abnegation boy I met in Amity. But he looks away from me, and I don’t know him anymore. It’s a stab to the gut, but I take a breath, roll my shoulders back, and look at the hall behind them. My hands rest on my back, and I crack each knuckle to stop myself from feeling anything, because I shouldn’t be.

“You will be taken into custody, and tomorrow we’ll have… a trial. You will be put under the truth serum, and if you have nothing to hide, then there shouldn’t be any problem,” Jeanine tells him, now stopped a couple of feet in front of me.

“But-”

“But you will cooperate, correct?” Jeanine snaps back in a second. Caleb shuts up, and nods. From the corner of my eye, I see the hopeless expression he wears. It evokes irrational negative feelings in me. ”I can’t exactly trust that you’re… stable enough to have a position here, even if you are proven credible. The serum will help us see what the right choice is with you.”

So, Jeanine has truth serum here? That would make sense, since Erudite helped develop it, but I would have hoped that most of it is still in Candor.

Jeanine smiles at him, but it doesn’t reach her eyes. She then waves them away, and both of the guards drag Caleb by his arms, and he’s gone. Jeanine approaches me, but I can only look at the spot where Caleb Prior was standing a second ago. I feel sick. I should have said something, I should have told Jeanine that the Erudite can trust him.

But he didn’t know me, so I don’t know him. I don’t have any responsibility to him anymore.

“Are you ready to explore the facilities?”

-

On the way back from the tour, I take a few extra turns back so I pass by the holding cells I had been shown a half hour ago. Every door looks the same, with a small window at the very top. I can hardly see over the top of it, but it’s enough for me to notice Caleb when I pass the cell he’s locked in.

He lies in his cot, though I doubt he’s asleep. So he’s here alone. No conspirators, and as of now, no cellmates. Was he captured, or did he come here on his own? I don’t know. I raise my hand over towards the window like I’m going to touch it, but I pull back.

He couldn’t even look me in the eyes for more than a second when he saw me. Surely, something bad had to have happened. I really hope it isn’t my fault. I press my palm to the cold steel of the door, and begin to think. I have to do something.

-

I wait till the compound is dead silent. Every light is out, but I’m wide awake, and know exactly where I’m going. Quietly and cautiously, I make my way out of my room, with my gun of course, and stalk down the Erudite hallways.

It took some casual asking around at dinner, but I was able to find out where Jeanine’s truth serum is, and if everything goes according to my plan, I’m going to destroy it.

There are very few people out and about. When anyone passes by me, I just nod and keep going. As far as the cameras in the hallways are concerned, Peter Hayes hasn’t left his room (a little trick I picked up from Eric, of all people, the day of the Abnegation attack).

As subtle as I can, I open the door to the room that stores the truth serum. Surprisingly, it isn’t that far from my living quarters. I close it and take a few steps in, only to hear a gun cock behind me.

My heart stops for a second. I am so dead. I shove my pistol back in its holster and raise my hands in defeat.

“Don’t move,” I hear a woman’s voice say. I’m concerned that it’s Jeanine, but the voice is slightly too hoarse to be hers. I turn around anyway, probably a little faster than I should have because she repeats it again, only this time with more agitation in her voice.

Now that I see this woman, I notice that she can’t be much older than me. Maybe 20 or so. Probably not even. She’s blonde, with large, almond shaped eyes and a face that looks familiar. Have I seen her before? She’s dressed in Erudite clothing, and I start to mentally recall everyone I talked to today. I open my palms, swaying on my feet as I stare down the barrel of the gun. That’s when I see a shelf full of vials behind her. I’m definitely in the right place, someone just got to it first.

“I-“

“Who are you?” She says, cutting me off. She steps closer, putting the gun under my chin. I back up, and within a second I notice that her form is horrible. She’s probably never held a gun before in her life.

I smile at that, way too smugly for someone who’s life is being threatened, and raise my eyebrows. “You’re holding that gun wrong.”

She digs the gun into my chin again, and I take another step back. “I won’t ask again! Who. Are. You?”

I scoff, but comply, my hands still in the air. “Peter. My name is Peter.”

She doesn’t take her gun off me. “And what are you doing here?”

“Why should I tell you?” I ask, annoyed.

“You’re looking a lot like an Erudite traitor, and I could get Jeanine to do worse than shoot you for that!”

“You’re the one acting like an Erudite traitor. You’re really threatening to shoot Jeanine’s right hand man right now. She would be disappointed in you.” It’s a long stretch to call myself that, but her expression falls for a second.

She stares at me for a little, before shaking her head. “Are you telling the truth?”

What kind of stupid question is that?

“Yes, obviously, I’m not lying to someone who’s pointing a gun at me! Are your mental faculties intact?”

She blinks repeatedly, miraculously not insulted, and slowly lowers her gun. “Then you‘ll be able to repeat that under the truth serum.”

I swallow nervously, but nod. I haven’t been on the truth serum in what feels like years, since I was in Candor. It feels like a completely different life at this point. I was probably on it more times than any other kid in that faction. She gestures to a chair in the corner, pulling it up for me to sit in. She searches around for a wipe, and after cleaning a spot on my neck, sticks a syringe in.

I feel the familiar rush of the serum in my blood and it makes me shiver. Goosebumps start to rise on my arms. I wrap them around my stomach, but say nothing. If this is anything like it is in Candor, she’ll ask me variations of the same questions, and I’ll be forced to answer. I’ll feel compelled to tell the truth, but I’ve learned, from experience, how to resist the urge to tell the whole truth.

Half of the truth isn’t a lie. So I don’t object when this girl, who’s name I don’t even know yet, stands in front of me and begins talking.

“Some of these questions are going to be straight out of the Candor handbook, for your information. Let’s start. What is your full name?”

“Peter Hayes.”

“Peter. No middle name. What faction were you born into?”

“Candor.”

“Oh, so you must feel right at home. Did you transfer at the Choosing Ceremony?”

“Yes.”

She chuckles a little.

“What faction?”

“Dauntless.”

“Now tell me, what faction are you loyal to?”

I almost say Dauntless, but catch my words before they come out. It’s basically instinct, and not really the truth. I’m not truly loyal to Dauntless. That doesn’t mean I’m loyal to Erudite either; I just refuse to join any of the other ’factions.’

Finally, I say, “Wherever I can go, that won’t force me to fight to survive.”

She laughs again, and the sound makes chills run along my spine. Her laugh is so familiar, like I’ve heard it in a distant memory. It sounds a little like Will’s laugh, although I don’t know how they could be connected. She’s definitely too young to be his mother, and if she was his sister, I would’ve recognized her from Candor.

“And now for the big question, Peter. What are you doing here, where Erudite keeps its truth serum?”

She walks around me, circling my chair like she’s studying me. Or like a wolf hunts down its prey. Either way, I don’t want to say something that will make her want to shoot me.

I thought I could fight it a little longer, but a sharp pain pierces my stomach as I try to seal my lips shut. I hunch over, on the verge of throwing up. “I was planning to destroy it.” I manage to speak it in a full sentence, the words leaving my mouth faster than I can control them. I had forgotten just how much the truth serum can hurt when you defy it. I don’t miss it at all.

At that, she pauses. She stops pacing around me, and pulls up a seat to sit across from me. Her eyes are softer now, as if offering me sympathy or understanding. She puts her gun down on an empty shelf.

“Destroy it?” She asks in a much gentler voice.

I shrug. “Yeah.”

“I thought you said you weren’t loyal to anyone though.”

I can’t stop the words from coming out. “Wrong. I’m not loyal to any faction.”

“Who falls under anyone?” She says, looking slightly amused. A smile tugs at the corners of her mouth.

I mutter, trying to keep as much as I can to myself by being as vague as possible in my answers. Technically not lies. “Someone. I know.”

“Someone, hmm?” She leans back in her chair. “Must be an important someone, Peter.”

She emphasizes my name, like it’s a disease or something. I grimace at her.

“When am I gonna learn your name?” I ask harshly, avoiding her implications.

“You’ll get it when I get the name of this special someone of yours. You’re planning to destroy dozens of vials of truth serum for them. Who is it?”

A deep ache radiates from my stomach, settling for a second, before slowly getting worse and spreading to my head. I bite down on my tongue to stop myself from saying anything. How am I supposed to know if I can trust this woman? Just because she started being a little bit nicer to me doesn’t mean that she’s on my side.

“A friend,” I muster out, although the word feels weird on my tongue. Are we still friends? After his reaction to seeing me again? Maybe the kiss was too much, and in reality he despised seeing me. Maybe every time he looked at me and talked to me in Amity, he was just trying to be nice. He probably saw me as a lost cause, or his only option for a companion in that place.

“You can do better than that.”

The pain is there again, and it doesn’t stop as I’m wrapping my arms tightly around my stomach, as I blink away tears, as I bite my tongue harder, to the point of blood. It doesn’t stop until I finally blurt out his name.

“Caleb.”

She looks really confused. “The… skinny Abnegation boy who was in initiation this year? Prior?”

All I can do is nod as my head starts to spin.

“I know him! He was always crying about how homesick he was, and how much he missed his family. He hardly ever slept. How are you friends with that Stiff?”

I shrug weakly, fatigued from the pain I just went through.

I’ve already spent hours today convincing myself that I wouldn’t care if he hated me all of a sudden, but I still feel compelled to help him. It’s the least I can do to repay him for everything he did for me. After this, our debt will be settled, and maybe I can forget that he ever managed to worm his way into my rotten heart.

Ew, that was too poetic. I cringe at myself.

The woman sits down in the chair next to me and sighs. Then she reaches out a hand for me to shake. “I’m Cara. I suppose you wouldn’t care if you knew I’m a part of the resistance?”

I shake my head. I really don’t. It’s probably better for me anyways, considering how I got caught red-handed. Cara nods knowingly. “Well, Peter. You don’t need to worry about destroying the vials. That’s what I was planning to do anyway.”

-

Jeanine absolutely loses her mind.

I avoid seeing her for most of the day, but every Erudite and Dauntless I pass whisper about the unexpected ‘destruction’ of the Erudite stash of truth serum, and how Jeanine has reacted. Every time I hear about it, I smile. While I never got the satisfaction of destroying all of it myself, Cara let me smash almost half of them, and for that I’m pleased. In my heart of hearts, I get to take half of the credit for our act of rebellion.

I watch the clock on my side table intensely from my bed. It’s 5:00. Caleb’s trial is over by now.

Good. Now we don’t owe each other anything. He didn’t have to tell Jeanine anything, and I didn’t get caught back in Amity.

But I can’t stop thoughts of him from coming back, creeping up on me, and making me want to scream. They keep telling me to find him, to apologize, to get him back into my life. I try to resist, really.

I lose to the thoughts. I make my way to where I know his cell is, newly familiar with the Erudite hallways. It feels freeing to walk the halls without having to worry about being seen as a traitor or monster, with everyone holding a gun to your head. Here, we’re all monsters in some way. We all know what Jeanine is doing, and other than Cara and I, no one’s doing anything about it.

I slow down as I approach the door of his cell. I look left and right down the halls, before quickly entering a code that opens his door. But I don’t let him out, and instead go in.

Caleb sits on the floor with his back resting on the flimsy bed frame. He reads a book, but looks unhappy with it, and just severely bored. He’s paler than usual, his hair sticks to the sides of his face, and his entire face looks sunken.

He looks up at me when I enter, and I’m once again left incapacitated by those deep, green eyes.

“How was your trial?” I ask, folding my arms and leaning on the wall. I let myself smile a little in victory, but try to look smug at the same time. I have to be nonchalant, or he’ll think I care too much. Maybe I want him to think I care. Maybe I don’t. I think about ripping my hair out and slamming my head against the wall. I'm overthinking this.

Caleb looks away, closing the book on his finger and putting it down, still holding the page. “It was fine,” he says, his voice quiet and tight.

I quickly become bitter with impatience. “It was fine? What happened?“

He opens his book again to check the page number, before slamming it closed and tossing it onto the bed. He brings his knees up to his chest and hugs them, still avoiding my gaze. “Nothing. I wasn’t put on the truth serum, but I answered Jeanine’s questions honestly, for the most part.”

When I don’t reply, he asks me a question. “Peter, what are you doing here?”

“What the hell do you mean, what am I doing here?”

“That’s just exactly what I mean. Answer the question, please,” he says weakly.

I find myself at a loss for words, and stutter. “I- uh. Well-”

Nice going Peter; real smooth. I exhale to calm myself down.

“I came to check on you. You got captured, a-“

“I wasn’t captured, Peter,” he says, still quiet, basically inaudible compared to my nervous self. “I came here myself.”

I take in a sharp breath, and I notice that my hands are balled up into fists. What do I say to that? “I destroyed the serum so you didn’t have to say anything you didn’t want to.”

“That was you?! I-I never asked you to destroy the serum! I didn’t k-keep anything from Jeanine. I told her Beatrice’s aptitudes, her plans, everything. It… It was my choice.”

He fiddles with his hands, erratically pushing hair out of his face every so often. I can tell he’s anxious by how much he just stuttered in the past sentence alone. “Now leave, Peter. I’ve heard about w-what you did. I don’t know who you are now, so just leave me alone. Seriously.”

In any other situation, I would have a million words to say that would all come out at the same time, screaming. But now, I stop, and hold myself in place.

I glare at him, pissed, but don’t say a word. I leave his cell, and slam it shut, locking it and pressing my hands back into fists as I storm away. I raise one of them up to my face to wipe away the moisture starting to form in my eyes.

Fuck. I really hate crying.

So, I was right. He doesn’t know me, and I shouldn’t have tried to bring him back. I should have settled our debt, and left it at that.

I should have left my feelings for him back at Amity.

It’s physically and emotionally draining to know that he doesn’t care about me, despite how I care for him. I can’t stop caring about him though. I thought I loved him, but love must still be a foreign word to me, because that couldn’t have been love. It was a one-sided figment of my imagination, a strange attraction, and an irrational emotional attachment.

I slam the door of my room as well, and catch myself on the kitchen counter when I start to see spots. I sink to the floor, my back pushed up against the cold surface.

Why do I care? Why?

And why doesn’t he care back? I would give him literally everything if I could. I know I would, I would swear it under the truth serum a hundred times over. How is it that he just doesn’t give a damn about me?

Every possible flaw of mine crosses my mind at the same time, and I shut my eyes tight, fighting the overwhelming feeling that everything is wrong. Nothing was ever supposed to be like this.

And I go through everything, out loud, one at a time. It’s like a chant: I repeat to myself what I am, who I am, and what about me is repelling Caleb from me. I find myself standing in front of the mirror, telling myself again and again what I’m doing wrong. I don’t remember walking to the bathroom.

I start at the top. It could be the hair. I cut it off.

My hands. I choke them with the amount of fabric I wrap around them. Gloves would be good to get again.

This jacket is old and ratty. I know that as a fact. I can go to Dauntless and get a new one.

I can be weaker. Maybe I seem too mean, too intimidating. I don’t need to train like I did in Dauntless, I can just make myself smaller.

And there’s more and more, but I finally start to drift off with my newly cropped hair laying on my pillow. When did I get back to my bed? Why can’t I remember walking around? I feel like a ghost. I fall asleep in silence, doing nothing to muffle the shouting voices in my mind, reminding me of every way I am still wrong.

-

This is the fourth time I’ve woken up in the middle of the night. I glance at the clock, the dull light telling me it’s 2:24 am. My head throbs persistently, and I finally stumble my way to a standing position. My thigh hits the side of my nightstand, and I grit my teeth in pain as I search in the drawers for a flashlight. I could turn on the light if I wanted to. It’s too far.

The longer I look, the longer I have to notice the wrap around my arms. When I finally find the flashlight, I turn it on and study the tips of my fingers, dulled in color. Sloppily, I remove the fabric I tightly wrapped around my arms mere hours ago, the red prints from every fold of the fabric visibly adding to my arm’s collection of strange colors.

Before leaving, I glimpse at the mirror. I look pathetic, although my hair doesn’t look terrible anymore. I didn’t cut it well at all, but it suits me, in a way. Spiky, wild, a big mop on my head that my mom would want to cut, and is too short to tie back. I’ll miss my old hair, but it could have been a lot worse.

I trek the halls of Erudite headquarters, barefoot on the tile, putting my hand half over the flashlight so it isn’t so bright. When I get to my destination, I knock on the door. Cara doesn’t answer, so I knock again, louder, and I don’t stop until I hear a congested voice from inside yell at me, “Shut up! I’m coming!” She mutters curses at me as she opens the door.

Cara obviously just woke up. Correction, I just woke her up. She’s in an oversized t-shirt and she’s barefoot as well. Her hair is in a frizzy, half-done ponytail, and she looks like she wants to murder me. Violently. She clears her throat.

“You cut your hair.”

I look away, not acknowledging her observation. “Can I come in?”

She moves from the door to let me in, and I sit down on her bed. She jumps onto the bed too, and yawns, but faces me attentively. “What do you want? You look awful, and besides, what are you doing up at this hour?”

“Couldn’t sleep,” I say, unable to care about forming a sarcastic response.

There’s a pause. “Seriously, dude. You woke me up, what do you want?”

I put my head in my hands, and run my fingers through what’s left of my hair. “I don’t know, I just know I made a mistake, and he heard about it, and he won’t talk to me because of it.”

“Assuming ‘he’ is Caleb, what did Caleb find out?”

“I don’t know! But he said he knows what I did, and even now, out of Candor and Dauntless, I can’t run from every horrible thing I did in the past.”

“Well yeah, that’s kind of how it works,” Cara says quietly, scooting closer to me. “We make a crappy mistake, and it follows us to the grave. It happens, but I’m sure he’ll get over it. You’ll have to get over it to move on with your life.”

“What do you mean? He won’t talk to me, and he won’t even tell me what it is that he hates.”

“What would you do if you knew?”

I pause at that, and think. “I would explain.”

“Is there a lot of explaining to do about your past actions?”

I bring my knees up and hug them to my chest. “I guess that depends. I just wish he’d hear me out instead of avoiding me.”

Cara hums lightly, sort of in agreement, before standing and stretching. She lets out a long yawn, and pauses to pick some stuff out from the closet. “You can sleep here tonight. You need it. When you’re feeling a little better, we can talk.”

I only nod, but in reality, I appreciate her hospitality, way more than I show it. I feel a pang of guilt as I realize she’s setting up a bed on the floor with the stuff she grabbed from the closet. Without a single complaint, Cara lies down on the ground and pulls a blanket around herself. Almost like an Abnegation.

“Goodnight, Peter.”

At that, the tension I have been feeling for the past few hours seems to slowly… melt away. It’s like when I was on the Peace serum, but it’s natural. I have control over myself this time around. The thought makes me smile a little, as I lie down on the bed and close my eyes. I make a mental note to thank Cara in the morning.

“Goodnight Cara.”

-

 I wake up with only a small headache, and the peace I felt before falling asleep still lingers. I sit up, only to notice Cara is already gone. It’s a little disappointing, but it would be selfish for me to expect her to wait for me, especially after she already gave up her bed for me. I stand up and head back to my own room to get ready for the day.

Since I don’t have any immediate responsibilities, I decide that I’m going to take a little trip. The decision I made last night of needing new clothes has stuck with me, more so than the other things. As much as I need this jacket, I’ll have to force myself away from it somehow.

I walk through the cafeteria to leave the building when someone steps in my way.

“Where are you going?” I’m relieved to see it’s just Cara, and I shrug.

“Getting new clothes. Nobody is at the Dauntless compound right now, it’s a good time to raid the place.”

She puts her hands on her hips. “That’s stupid. There’s clothes here. Plus, you can’t live without your jacket, there’s no point in going all the way to Dauntless to get a new one.” She takes my shoulders and nudges me lightly towards the line of Erudite waiting for their food. “You’re gonna miss breakfast if you don’t catch the line now. Don’t let me catch you skipping meals. I cannot have another bitch with mental problems on my mind. Bad memories.”

She shakes her head, and I feel a slight guilt.

As I open my mouth to say something, she pushes me towards the line, and doesn’t let me say a word as she leaves to go sit with a few of her friends. She joins their conversation so naturally, it’s like she was never gone.

Leaving me to stand in line and get food. I grab some breakfast, but not a lot: a banana and an oatmeal muffin. I then turn to the table I usually sit at, but notice somebody has beaten me to the spot.

Caleb.

He must have just gotten out of holding. He looks up at me, and I stop in my tracks. My heart beats with the same anxiety from last night, and now that’s all I feel. I try to leave without a word, feet moving quickly, one in front of the other. He slowly stands and calls out after me. “Wait! I just want to talk.”

I stop again, and turn back at him. I don’t think I want to talk to him, now or ever again as long as I live, but it seems I’m having trouble with that at the moment. I press my lips into a flat line and sit down roughly. My throat is still closing, and my breath catches, but he looks so desperate, and I know damn well what desperate people can do.

Caleb clears his throat, and takes one good look at me, before saying, “You cut your hair.”

I just shrug at that. What is there to say?

“Peter, I need to apologize.”

That’s what makes me look up, but not at his eyes. I’m scared if I look directly at him, I’ll go right back to the place I was last night. So he continues.

“I-I didn’t listen last night, and for that I’m sorry. I should have listened, and I- I,” he mutters some more but it’s unintelligible, like he’s trying to say 5 things at once. I’m stuck watching as he bursts into tears and begins fanning his face, while simultaneously still talking. It really hurts to see him so guilty because of something he did. I don’t understand what he’s saying, as he’s really just making strangled sounds at this point, but it touches me in a way nothing has before.

Because for once, I’m not being told that I’m the problem. And it’s hard to hear. I can change myself and punish myself when I’m the one who made the mistake, but hearing the issue is someone else’s fault leaves me defenseless and unsure what to do. It’s comforting in a way, but leaves me guilty to know Caleb is going through the same thing I have many times before. Probably not to the same degree, because I do tend to be dramatic, but his ugly crying indicates shame. I feel horrible.

All of the sudden, he reaches out and hugs me, holding me tightly to his chest. I’m stunned for a second before slowly wrapping my arms around him and reciprocating. The hug is a small pinprick of heat in my heart- he has to care to hug me. He must still care about me.

Then with a whisper, “I’m sorry I made you feel like you had to change.”

I have no idea how to react, I don’t even know how he knows. I try to take it naturally, letting myself speak without thinking too hard about it. “I thought it would have been good to see you again.”

“It should have been, and that’s my fault it wasn’t,” he says, sniffling. He lets me go, and wipes his eyes with his red knuckles. “I’m sorry, I should have listened, but I’m willing to do that now if you’ll let me.”

I clear my throat and blink back tears of my own. “What do you want me to explain?”

For the next 30 minutes I answer every question he asks, a weight lifting off my shoulders with every word. He doesn’t judge me at all, and for the first time, the amount of talking I do doesn’t make me feel selfish. Is this what it's like to be loved?

When breakfast is over, we walk the halls, circling around the lobby and talking. He’s heard a lot of things about me, everything I’m ashamed of, but I would never do anything without a reason, and now he knows that. I just hope he takes it into consideration.

At the point where we’ve been out for hours, I check my watch. “Where is Jeanine? She hasn’t ordered me around yet,” I ask. This is sort of unusual, though I’m not complaining. I don’t expect Caleb to know the answer, and it’s a surprise to me when he speaks up.

“She's up on the top floor. She told me that there’s a ‘special project’ she’s working on.”

“Hmm. The more you know.”

There’s a long moment of quiet. A question lingers in my mind and I can’t help but ask, “What made you want to talk to me again? At breakfast, I mean.”

Caleb takes a long breath and sits down on a small, blue couch in the lobby. I sit down on the same couch, but leave a considerable amount of space between us. I don't want to make him uncomfortable.

“My mother once told me that the first step to loving someone is finding the evil in yourself. There may be bad things you’ve done in your past, but I would say I also have a considerable amount of ‘bad’ in me, too. I don’t know how I feel about this whole thing myself, but I know my mother would have forgiven you, and that’s enough for me.”

I frown. “Is that it?”

His face turns red. “Maybe Cara also got me to talk to you. She pushed me around and told me I had to ‘talk it out like a man’. Eugh.” That makes me smile, and I send an internal prayer of appreciation to Cara. He smiles at my smile, and suddenly my life doesn’t seem so awful.

It feels like the Abnegation boy I knew is standing in front of me again, instead of the stranger I met here in Erudite.

-

Caleb is gone the entirety of the next day, and I find out from Cara that he’s been learning about everything Jeanine is working on. It makes me a little jealous that he was immediately given his high position in Erudite, but he did tell Jeanine information about the Divergent that nobody else knows. Plus, who would want to spend all day with Jeanine?

Caleb apparently. The poor guy.

This is also the day he makes his decision. We didn’t speak about it, but I know he knows. I’m letting him decide where he would like to start again. Strangely, I don’t feel impatient. It’s rare when I don’t, but I know I’m content with wherever we are now, and I trust Caleb’s judgement more than my own. Especially after I screwed up everything last time.

I’ve told him more than I’ve ever had to tell anyone before, but it was, in a sense, just an extension of what he’s heard so far. We still don’t know any of the important things about each other.

I wonder what his favorite color is.

-

“What’s your favorite color?” I ask Caleb. We walk through the scenery of the Erudite compound, a place Caleb says is called Millennium Park. It doesn’t look much like a park to me, but the bean looking thing is here, so that’s kind of cool.

He thinks for a second, putting a finger to his chin and smiling, before replying, “Green. What’s yours?”

“I like blue, although Erudite’s really been watering that down lately. I like green too, I just wish there was a faction that wore that color. I’d transfer just for the clothes.”

Caleb chuckles a little at that. “Me too.”

We keep walking around, and by now we’re doing a loop around the bean. Caleb suddenly stops and looks at it for a long time. I ask him what he’s looking at, he answers, “Oh, nothing. I just remember going here during initiation. I even took Tris here when she visited.”

Her name is a chill down my back in the summer, and I frown, but don’t let him see it. I just wish I never had to think about her again. This is my own life, and while I choose to allow Caleb into it, I shouldn’t be forced to allow her too. But she’s the main character, of course. It’s rough to get by as an antagonist without seeing the protagonist everywhere you go.

Caleb seems to notice my concern, and interrupts my train of thought. “So, you transferred to Dauntless, right?”

“Yeah. I was just in initiation before all of this happened.”

Caleb thinks for a second, before quietly saying, “Did you come from Candor?”

“How did you figure that out?” I ask, curious to hear his thought process.

“You aren’t from Dauntless, since you transferred in, and you obviously didn’t come from Amity or Abnegation.”

“I’m hurt that you don’t think I’m hardworking and selfless.”

He laughs at that a little, rolling his eyes and continues. “And if you were a transfer from Erudite, you probably wouldn’t have had such an easy time coming back. I know I wouldn’t be able to return to Abnegation without feeling guilty. That leaves Candor.”

I nod. “You’re right, I was born in Candor. I don’t know why anyone would stay, though. It completely sucked.”

“Why?” he asks.

“Well, there was nothing freeing about it. Everyone has expectations of you telling the truth, and you're punished if you’re caught lying. Nothing at all sounds fun about that.”

“So you chose Dauntless because it was ‘fun’?”

I tilt my head from side to side. “Not entirely. I thought it would be fun, but it was more than that. Dauntless let me just… be me.” I pause, not sure if he understands my implication.

We sit down on a small bench, facing the bean. He’s close enough that I could take his hand. My fingers twitch in response, but I take my hand and crack my knuckles instead, hoping he didn’t notice.

We stay in peaceful silence for a while. I know he’s thinking about what to say, and I know that he’s figuring me out with that Erudite brain of his. I wait to listen when he decides to speak. Patiently.

He finally clears his throat, and I turn to look at him. He’s still looking away, facing the bean. “I’ve thought about us.”

“And?”

“I was hoping you had something to say first.” He now faces me, and my heart starts to race. I should feel unprepared, but I know what I want to say for once. I’ve known for a long time, and now I have the opportunity.

“I don’t regret kissing you,” I start. The words are heavy as they leave my mouth, but I know they had to be said at some point.

“I don’t really care about people. I never have. But I care about you, and I don’t exactly know why. You don’t have to mean anything if you don’t want to. Say the word, and I’ll never look at you again. That’s what I’m offering you: the opportunity to forget all of this. I guess it’s my apology.”

“Truthfully, I wouldn’t want to forget any of this.” He sighs calmly, and then reaches out to take my hand. I inhale sharply, not expecting the touch, but slowly tie my hands into his. I begin to trace circles with my thumb over his knuckles. “Everyone will hate us,” he whispers, like it’s a thought instead of something he actually meant to say.

“Tris isn’t everyone.”

He hums lightly at that. “She can get everyone to hate us.”

“Does that matter?”

“I don’t know. I don't suppose it does.”

“Then, we can have our own little group of hated people,” I suggest.

“I’m sure there’s more ‘hated’ people out there, Peter. Beatrice has her enemies, probably more than I’m aware of.”

“None that we have to let into our group! I like the two members we already have.”

“That’s true. But of course, the members are going to have to take it slow. As just friends. The members don’t have to stay that way forever, but for now…”

“I think I get it,” I tell him. I pull my hand from his. “Then we have to meet like ‘just friends.’” I extend my hand towards him again, with an authentic smile and happiness that warms me to my core. “Hi. I’m Peter.”

He smiles at me, takes my hand in a firm grasp and shakes. “Hi, I’m Caleb.

-

I begin sitting with him at meals, and our time spent in the cafeteria becomes the highlight of my days. Hearing Caleb and everything he has to say brings me more joy than I can put into words. I can tell he enjoys it too; as much as he hates socialization, he loves talking. I hate both, and give every moment of silence to Caleb to fill with information and fun facts about whatever book he’s reading or moments from his childhood.

Am I greedy for wanting to hear everything? Does that make me selfish or selfless? Does it matter at this point, when at the end of the day I have a friend who enjoys my company?

It’s a pain when I don’t have Caleb to keep me company, but instead Eric. He’s called me more often, either for useless tasks, like joining him on a patrol, or spying on people around Candor headquarters. I heard once that the Dauntless who didn’t go to Erudite went to Candor, and Eric confirms it on our most recent mission.

“Listen up everyone. Jeanine has told us that our number one priority is to find Divergents. Many of those remaining are suspected to be in that building,” Eric states, pointing at said building, an impressive black and white structure. It's tall, which I can tell even with how far in the distance it is. “Any opportunity Jeanine sees, we will take to weed out dirty Divergents who can resist simulations.”

Eric continues going on and on, and I look around at the other guards with a twisted, sour expression. I wonder if they’re cringing just as much as I am. All of them stare directly at Eric, either taking in every word he says or completely zoning out. I can’t blame them if they are, everything he says is bullshit. It hurts to listen.

“The expected time of our attack is tomorrow night, but stay alert and be prepared to move out at any moment. And if there’s any important information you are withholding, we suggest you come out with it. Sooner, rather than later.” Eric says, emphasizing every word. He shoots me a nasty glare, and I frown back. What does he think I know ?

On the way back to Erudite headquarters, I think I notice Eric making his way towards me in the crowd. I start to walk faster in an attempt to get away, but he’s close behind me, and soon I’m being shoved into an alley. A gun digs painfully into my chest as Eric sneers, looking like a pin cushion with all his dumb piercings. My hand reaches for my own gun, but he takes me by the wrist and twists it before I can do anything. I shout as a jolt of pain shoots up my arm.

Eric pushes me up against a dirty wall, and I’m left looking down at him and his gun, with no way of getting my own gun out of its holster.

“I don’t know why you came back here Peter, but trust me, you make one wrong move and your little friend will be cleaning up your brains from the floor, got it?” he spits at me. He presses his gun more forcefully into my chest, and an anxiety begins to claw at my heart at Eric’s words. He can’t be talking about Caleb, can he?

He stares at me expectantly and I can’t really bring myself to fight back. It’s not worth it, no matter how much I want to beat him to pulp. “Okay,” I mumble, shrugging as he releases me and tucks his gun back into his jacket. He could kill me right now, if he really wanted to, but I don’t understand why he would. I haven’t done anything to him in the past few days, at least from what I remember. He must be pissed off about something else and just taking it out on me. Sort of like a toxic boyfriend. I suppress my laughter for fear of ticking him off again.

He scowls. “I know you’re the one who destroyed the truth serum. I just can’t prove it.” I scoff at that and walk away before I say something he can use against me. I have an impressive track record of getting myself in trouble.

And then it hits me: he mentioned Caleb, but how would he know about us? We avoid cameras as best as we can. Besides, it’s not like we’re making out in front of the security guards. Or at all. All I can do is hope that Eric gets an assignment he doesn’t come back from.

-

I woke up fairly early in the morning after the attack on Candor. I didn’t go; I claimed that I was still struggling from my shoulder injury. Technically, I didn’t lie. It does occasionally ache, just hardly as much as it used to. I just didn’t want to go. Luckily, nobody questioned me, given how ‘buddy-buddy’ Jeanine seems to be with me, and I ended up spending the time I would’ve been invading my birth faction with Caleb.

It’s a nice morning, the sun is shining through the big windows and the warmth on my face feels particularly comforting. All around me, Erudite frantically talk to each other in hushed little groups, bringing up a shooting of some kind. Walking through the halls, I hear “Divergent,” “dangerous,” and “dead.” The cafeteria is an echo of all the nonsensical rumours I heard in the hallways, and I look around to find Caleb before even getting in line. Breakfast can wait, and he probably already knows what’s happening.

His face is red, the buttons of his shirt are in the wrong holes, and there are bags under his eyes. Nothing out of the ordinary. He just looks at me as I sit down, like he needs to talk or he’ll combust. Good, I need to hear something real. I reconsider that thought as I remember how much of a gossip Caleb is. “Do you need to say something?” I ask with an amused smile.

He opens his mouth in a millisecond, words spilling out.

“Did you hear? Last night, Eric led a mission to go infiltrate Candor Headquarters in search of Divergent. He began shooting them with all these transmitters to find those who can resist simulations, and I’m unsure who he actually found. I also heard that Eric shot some of the Divergent. Only half of Eric’s Dauntless came back here, but he’s gone too, and I’m sure they’re going to kill him. And what about Beatrice? How am I supposed to know if she’s still alive? Peter, I am losing my mind.” He spoke fast, and I nodded every other sentence so he knew I was listening. He stops, searching my eyes like I’m supposed to retain every word he just said.

I instead press my hands together and bow my head, as if praying. “Thank whoever is watching over us that Eric is gone.”

Caleb hits me in the arm. I wince. “Seriously! I- I don’t know if Beatrice made it out. What if they killed her, Peter? What if Eric shot her dead?” He looks at me seriously, and it makes me worry that he’s already driven himself mad with the question.

I take a minute. Everything I want to say, he definitely wouldn’t want to hear. If they killed her, Caleb would be desperately tied to her in every thought and action. More than anything, I know he wishes he could be like her. In what way though, I don’t know. Does he want to be persistent, or greedy? Self-centered, dramatic, invasive, demeaning, or just a total bitch? Every adjective I associate with Tris, I would never associate with Caleb. I don’t understand how his connection with Tris can go further than them just being siblings.

I sigh, leaning back in my chair. “You can probably go check on her. She’s…”, I struggle for the right word. “She’s resourceful. I’m sure she made it out fine.”

“But-,” he inhales sharply, cutting himself off, “I’m working to find her, I’m with the group who wants her dead. How am I supposed to choose a side again?”

“Don’t worry about that for now. I can cover for you today, and you go visit her. Make sure she’s okay, stay long enough to not raise suspicion on their side, and then come back. Unless you were thinking about switching sides…?”

“No!” He answers too quickly. “I know I’m supposed to be working with the Erudite, but I just don’t want anyone to die. Least of all my sister. If there was a way to accomplish Jeanine’s goals without anyone losing their life, I would be much more compliant.” He pushes his food tray away with determination. “I’m too worried to eat. I think I’m just going to go visit Beatrice. Are you sure you’re okay with that?”

“Totally,” I say, standing with him. “Just be careful around there, and don’t take anything blue with you, please.”

He nods in agreement, and we part rather underwhelmingly. I’m left hoping he’ll do the smart thing. On the way out of the cafeteria, Cara runs up next to me, laughing. I don’t assume she’s laughing at me, until she pokes me in the rib. I step away quickly, and my hand even twitches towards my gun, but she laughs again, putting a hand on my shoulder.

“Sorry, that’s my bad. I heard you and Caleb talking about leaving for Candor. Is that true?” I shush her angrily, and lead her down a hallway nobody’s in.

“It’s just him. I’m not going, and he’s not staying.”

“Hmm, what a shame. I thought you guys were running away together to elope. I can picture you two lovebirds building a house together, starting a garden, adopting a little baby girl.” At first she laughs at the physical cringe on my face, but she stops. Her expression turns more serious and it makes me almost scared for what she’s going to say next.

“I’m leaving Erudite.”

“Oh, really?” I’m genuinely surprised, and honestly, a little disappointed to hear the news. Cara has been a great friend since I got here and as annoying as it is to admit, I think I’m gonna miss seeing her around.

“Yeah. I’ve thought it over, and it’s time for me to finally join the resistance. Well, in a more official way. You get it. Me and a few of the other spies I know will be going to Candor permanently. I really think you and Caleb should join us, though, considering you’re technically spies too.”

“Thanks for the offer Cara, but we know what we’re doing. We have our own plan.”

She purses her lips and hits me on the back, though it’s not violent. An act of friendship. She nods at me tensely, before turning around, and leaving the mood more depressing than it was meant to be. I may never see Cara again, but I appreciate every effort she’s made to help me. Nobody’s ever done any of the things she did so willingly for me, and I know I’ll remember her for the rest of my life.

-

”Do you know why I asked you to come here today?” Jeanine asks me, staring daggers into my eyes. I feel as if I can’t look away. She taps the desk with her long nails, waiting expectantly for an answer.

I flash her a distracted smile, my eyes flitting around the room. It’s something Molly used to do, a sure fire way to tell she was about to do something stupid. If I want to do anything right, I probably shouldn’t act like Molly. “Not really.”

Her eyebrows scrunch up, and she squints to look at me, like I’m a blurry image that she can't quite make out. I just shrug and try to ignore the feeling of the chair digging into my thighs.

“Peter, I asked you here today because I understand that you have spent a considerable amount of time with Beatrice Prior.”

“Yes Ma’am, I have.”

“Recently, our source of information on the extent of her Divergence has been… reluctant to share. The source is knowledgeable, but still more loyal to Beatrice than they will admit.”

I know in a second that the source she's talking about is Caleb, and panic slowly creeps into my thoughts. I can feel my heart racing and I’m not quite sure how to stop it. What does Jeanine want from me? Can I see myself answering her questions? Should I?

“I know with a surety you are not loyal to Beatrice. Eric once told me he suspected you were the culprit who destroyed our supply of truth serum.” If I haven’t had experience lying all my life, I would definitely be sweating bullets right now. I secretly thank my parents for all that I learned in Candor. I roll my spine up straighter and listen to her attentively, like I never had anything to do with the truth serum.

“But I don’t believe that. I know your hatred of Beatrice usurps any potential hatred of Erudite. That being said, I need your advice. We need Beatrice, specifically, as a Divergent subject. However, our methods of getting her here have failed. I don’t suppose you would have any ideas?”

Chapter Text

3.

Caleb was broken when Tris showed up at Erudite Headquarters. After everything she did to him, he still loved her, he still cared when she didn’t. That’s why I saved Tris. Because Caleb asked me to. I would save Tris a thousand times for Caleb. 

-

(Midway through Book 2: Insurgent)

I feel content after my meeting with Jeanine. I suggested to her that Tris’ weakness is others, and Jeanine ate it up. I told her the truth, surprisingly. It’s just satisfying to be a somewhat trusted source around here.

The rest of the night is alright, but unusually lonely. A day without Caleb is exhausting.

At lunch the next day, Caleb joins my table, holding two blue cups. He wears a blue sweatshirt that looks two sizes too big, and he sits down next to me, looking upset.

“You were gone for a while. I was starting to think you ran off without me.”

He shrugs as he sets one of the blue cups down in front of me. “Sorry. But here’s a peace offering, I thought you would like it; I’m not sure if they have this in Dauntless.”

I pick it up and inspect the liquid inside, swishing it around. It’s filled with tiny bubbles, and there’s a nearly inaudible hissing sound coming from it. I raise an eyebrow at Caleb, who drinks from his cup casually. “What is it?”

“It’s called soda. It’s popular among the Erudite, and I didn’t even know it existed until I transferred here. Once you get used to it, it’s pretty good, though.”

I raise my cup up to him before taking a sip. It attacks my mouth instantly. I must be making a sour face, because Caleb chuckles a little, hiding his smile with his hand. “Fizzy, isn’t it?” 

“Dang. Tastes weird.” I take another, more aware sip. I’m more prepared for the fizz this time, but it’s still a little disturbing. However, it does taste better. Magic, I swear.

“So… how was your visit to Candor?” I ask, testing the waters with the subject. 

Caleb sighs softly, and bites his cuticles. He looks just over my shoulder with a slanted smile. “It was fine. Beatrice was alive, and I got to see her.” 

”Cool,” I say, clicking my tongue. 

I drink the rest of my soda, watching Caleb’s brain short-circuit in front of me. He is dying to say something, I know it. “What are you thinking about?”

“Do you ever doubt your loyalties?” He asks, gesturing with his hands. ”For example, do you find yourself wondering if Erudite is the best place to be?”

“Sure, I wonder that. But I also compare my options. I would never go back to Candor, the Amity go gaga over rainbows, and everyone else is dead.”

“Well, now, why wouldn’t you go back to Candor?”

That isn’t a tough question to answer. My father. “Reasons.”

“What reasons in particular?” He asks politely, but without eye contact. “You’ve said you weren’t fond of your time in Candor, but you’ve never actually told me exactly about it. And I’ve always been curious about the other factions, and how their systems work.”

“You want to know about the faction?” He nods, and I can’t possibly say no to him. “For starters, it sucks. ‘Those who blamed duplicity created Candor,’ thats… crap.” I’ve developed something like a swear filter around Caleb. He never asked me to, but it sort of just happened, and honestly, I’m not mad.

“I don’t see how that motto can be unfit.”

“That’s not what I mean. It fits perfectly, it’s just horribly unforced. Too… rashly.”

“As in, what?”

“ As in I got hit every time I told a lie. My father was a psychopath who took ‘Candor law’ to the next level,” I say, with a hatred I’ve hardly let loose since I transferred. I haven’t forgotten, no, but it sure was easy to cram it in the back of my mind when I never had to see him again.

Caleb is silent for a second. “Is that why you transferred?” He asks me.

“Yeah, that was one of the reasons. Candor valued truth over trust, health, family. Everything. There wasn’t space for anything else. Not at school, and especially not at home. Even when I told the truth, I was put on that serum to prove it. I think I was put on that serum more often than any other kid.”

“Oh. I’m- I’m really sorry.”

“Lots of people in that faction were like my dad. He’s more than likely dead, anyway, that abusive scumbag.” I would be fine with that. In fact, I would welcome that. He hasn’t even been the worst person in my life. “My mother probably stabbed him in his sleep. I wouldn’t blame her.”

“And her,” Caleb comments, squirming in his seat. “What about her?”

I take a second. She wasn’t an angel, but she cared for me, and that’s what meant the most to me growing up. “Better. She treated me like a son, and that’s all I wanted. She didn’t deserve what my dad did to her, but that didn’t stop her from raising me like a good person. I’ll be honest, I miss her.”

Caleb smiles softly at that. “I’m glad, at least, she treated you right.”

“Me too. What about your parents?”

His smile falls. “They’re both gone. But they were good people, and they taught me everything I know.”

I want to argue that that’s not actually true; that books and being free taught him what he knows, and that his parents raised him to know how to avoid conversations and keep his mouth shut. 

Caleb is a major people pleaser; he was raised to help others, it was the entire base of his life. But right now, he needs to focus on himself. The break from Erudite must have been good for him, even if he was technically consorting with the enemy. 

It might be best to change the topic once again.

“Now that you know what it’s like in Candor, wanna know what I heard about the Amity?”

“Sure!” And there’s the smile I was looking for.

-

We spend the rest of the day together, being unproductive. We avoid looking for responsibilities, and they don’t come looking for us. Instead, we learn more about each other, because that’s apparently what friends do.

It is unspoken that neither of us are willing to look up the other’s files. It’s a small act of privacy that both of us cherish, but won’t discuss. The only things I know about Caleb is what he’s told me.

He knows more about me, from what he’s heard from his sister, the Factionless, and my lengthy explanations of the ‘why’ of what I’ve done. However, it’s unsettling that in a way, he has the upper hand. He has more he can use against me, and more information he can weigh for whether I’m worth his time.

We walk around the Erudite compound, circling the large skyscrapers and other glass buildings. I occasionally kick rocks, and when we cross paths with them again, Caleb will continue the kicking. It happens multiple times, although we haven’t gotten a single rock past a block. We always end up running our feet over it, then laughing, and finding another rock to torture.

“You’re a dork. You know that?” I say after listening for the last ten minutes about the new book he’s reading. I swear, Caleb’s hyperfixations have to be the most boring things. Psychology, random moments in history from a thousand years ago, things like that. Caleb pushes me by the shoulder into the shrubbery, and I nearly fall entirely, having to catch myself on a streetlamp. “And a jerk.”

“Haha,” he says sarcastically, still kicking a rock. He doesn’t stop when he checks his watch. “We should head back soon. It’s almost time for dinner, and I heard there’s going to be mashed potatoes.” He smiles at that, in a way that is so sweet I want to legitimately kick my feet and smile back.

“Did you ever have mashed potatoes in Abnegation?” I ask, looking away so I don’t have to see his face.

“Not at all. We mostly had pastes or bad vegetables. Any good food we got a hold of, we gave to the factionless.”

“I see why you left. I’d die if I had to eat vegetables.”

“I can tell.”

“Again, you’re a jerk.”

He takes a turn that will lead us back to Erudite Headquarters, probably excited to have his beloved potatoes. Will I ever amount to those potatoes in his life? I’ll never know. 

After an awkward pause in the conversation, I have to ask: “Do you still want to be here in Erudite?”

“Of course! I’m sure this is the place I need to be, every reason Erudite works for is reasonable, logical, everything,” Caleb speaks too fast, like he’s trying to convince himself of this fact. Caleb always talks fast, though, in an inarticulate way, as if he knows exactly what he wants to say, but he can’t put them into words effectively. 

I run my hands through my hair. “I mean, you came here of your own free will, but you have never once sounded comfortable doing Jeanine’s work.”

“It’s either work with Jeanine or work with rebels who are trying to tear the faction system apart by harboring Divergents. Those who are Divergent are dangerous, and Jeanine’s goal is to keep them under control. I know this is the right place to be, I just wish innocent people wouldn’t get hurt.”

I feel like life would be so much more enjoyable if we weren’t forced to choose sides for every occasion.

-

“I have good news and bad news, Hayes. Which would you like first?”

Before Jeanine speaks, I predict that neither of these things will actually be good. “I’ll take the bad news first.”

“We have received confirmation that Eric is dead.”

I was completely wrong, there is not a negative bone in my body right now. Every part of me wants to laugh and shoot a middle finger to the Erudite cameras, but the only action I’m unable to suppress is a small twitch in my lips at the news. 

“That’s unfortunate, Ma’am,” I say, looking up past her, putting on the most convincing mourning face. I could burst into tears on demand if I really wanted to, but even for the sake of faking it, I’m not wasting tears on Eric. Loser.

“The good news is that we have begun a… I would say procedure , to ensure we get Beatrice Prior in possession soon enough.”

I don’t react to that piece of news as much as I should, all of my thoughts flooded with things Caleb has said. Caleb would be heartbroken if Tris was brought here, and we just talked about where our loyalties lie. What if his dedication to the Erudite cause wavered? I wouldn’t be surprised, or disappointed, but instead scared for his safety. 

Tris causes way too many problems.

I nod to Jeanine. “That is good news.”

-

Only a night later, Tris is here.

She looks awful; her hair is a yellow rat's nest, she is covered in bruises and cuts, and she’s skinnier, which I didn’t know was possible. She’s always been wiry and small, but she used to walk with confidence. Now she walks with slow, hesitant steps, and looks down, unlike any form of Tris Prior I've seen before.

It leaves a pit of doubt, and even an entirely new emotion that I haven’t felt in years, in my stomach. It reaches my heart, and soon it starts beating. I’m certain Tris can hear it, because she looks up when I walk out of the elevator. I was told to take her into holding, probably just to see her reaction, but she makes none when she looks me right in the eyes.

I know she hates me. I hate her too, but every horrible thing I’ve done to her flashes in scenes every time I blink, and I want to run away, like the Candor boy I was.

The Dauntless boy stands up straight, with a smirk, not daring to break eye contact. “We’ve been instructed to take you upstairs,” I say, before tentatively taking one of her arms and leading her to the elevator.

Standing in the elevator, we’re alone. It’s depressing to think that we are two out of originally nine initiates. I don’t know if many of them are dead or alive.

Al committed suicide. Will was shot. Drew and Molly were both thrown to the Factionless, and haven’t been seen since. Edward and Myra probably died in the Factionless too. And I haven’t heard of Christina since initiation, marking her as good as dead to me. That leaves Tris and I intact.

I want to tell Tris something, but I can’t. I hate her, so why do I feel obligated to talk to her? 

I keep my mouth shut. I’ve done a lot of shitty things to her, that’s the person I am. She’s a shitty person, and she could gouge my eyes out if I let down my guard. But looking at her now, I’m not so sure she would. She looks hopeless, helpless, like she’s a failure, because she can’t seem to help everyone.

That makes her, in the slightest, more relatable.

-

I dread having to tell Caleb. I don’t want to, but Jeanine explicitly told me I must. That was yesterday, but I’d procrastinated until now. I stand in front of his room door, taking long breaths and staring at the number on the door. 476 . 

Quietly, I rap on his door. I hear shuffling inside, and a muffled “coming.” I stand still, internally wishing he won’t answer. But he opens his door, mid putting on a sweatshirt, and with a mild crooked smile lets me in. “What are you doing here?”

I sigh. “I’m bored. Do you want to play cards?”

He looks at me, surprised, but shrugs. “I would love to. Come in, I’m sure I have cards around here somewhere.” Caleb goes searching through drawers in his desk. As I go in, I close the door behind me, and sit criss-cross on the floor. After a bit of rummaging, Caleb shakes an unopened pack of cards and sits down next to me. He tears off the plastic and chucks it into the nearby trash can before sliding the deck over to me.

“What did you want to play?” He asks, kicking some of the mess on his floor away.

I open the pack and begin shuffling. “I know a few games from Candor. I would suggest BS, but that’s not a two player game. How about Cribbage?”

“You’ll have to teach me.”

“That’s fine, it’s simple.” I spend the next couple of minutes teaching him the game, and between his frustration at the grittiness of the new cards and my terrible instructions, he gets the hang of it.

“Seriously, have you ever seen a deck of cards?” I ask when he calls a club card a clover.

“Seen, yes. Play, no.”

“What did you ever do in Abnegation?”

“Hmm, Beatrice and I volunteered. As often as I could, I volunteered at the library so I could read when nobody was looking.”

“Sounds boring.”

“It wasn’t terrible. Abnegation just had an unappealing future.”

“Makes sense.” 

Caleb ends up winning the round, and when he suggests we pack it up, I insist we keep playing. I have to tell him, at one point, about Tris.

As I deal out cards, I comment, “Tris is here.”

Caleb hums. “I know.” He doesn’t physically respond, but it’s like all the gears in his head are shifting, trying to process the information. It’s funny, the way his Erudite brain works. Right now, Caleb is going through every fact, every problem, and every solution in his head. 

“Will you be okay?” I ask.

“I should be,” he says. We begin playing, but he won’t say another word.

“All she’s done is hold you back from being free.”

He nods, but doesn’t speak. I hesitate to say anything else, because I don’t know what he wants to hear. I’ve never been experienced with comforting others, but I want to tell him it’s okay. 

I thought I could always tell when Caleb was in a bad mood, but he surprises me so often, I think he’s gotten better at avoiding my Candor filter. I didn’t see a single sign that indicated he knew before I told him.

“How did you find out?” I ask.

“I walked past her cell. I didn’t talk to her, though.”

“That’s good.”

“What is good?”

“That you didn’t talk to her. I don’t know what she would do if she saw you, but I know it wouldn’t be good. And you don’t need that.”

“But she’s my sister and I betrayed her. Wouldn’t it be fair to expect a response like that?”

“Not at all. You didn’t betray her, you guys are just on different sides, and she can’t respect that. She thinks she still owns you.”

“She never did.”

“That’s my point,” I say. “I-”

I’m interrupted by an aggressive knock on the door. We look at each other, and now we know it wasn’t our imagination. Caleb stands, waving his hands with his palms facing his chest, up and down, like an introverted way of doing jazz hands. I haven’t really paid attention to it, but I have seen it’s something he does when he’s thinking or stressed.

“Coming!” He yells. Then, in a whisper, “Get in the closet.”

“What?” I wheeze with a ridiculous smile, every gay joke possible coming to mind. “Why? Don’t want Jeanine thinking we’re in a forbidden love affair?” I say, whipping imaginary long hair over my shoulder.

“Yeah, ‘cause we’re not, now unless you want to hide under the bed, get in the closet!”

I laugh a little, but sprint to the claustrophobic closet in the corner of his room, and close it on myself. I shut up when he opens his door.

By the voice and slang of the person at the door, it’s likely a Dauntless guard I’ve never met. There was no point in hiding, then. In Dauntless, you’re either queer or you transferred from Abnegation. “Jeanine said she needs Peter, and told me she assumed he’d be here. Is he?” 

I want to burst out laughing, but put a hand over my mouth to stop myself. Caleb is probably red in embarrassment, but in a small voice, says, “No, he isn’t here. It would be more logical to check his room first.”

“You’re playing cards by yourself?” They must have seen the deck on the floor.

“I’m practicing my shuffling. Now, you’re intruding on my morning, so I would appreciate it if you left.”

The guard mutters some stuff about ‘Erudite crap,’ and their voice gets more distant with their footsteps. Caleb shuts the door, and I take that as a sign to peek from the closet. I let out a dramatic cough, dusting my clothes off as I walk to Caleb again.

Caleb’s entire posture has changed. He’s doing less to hide what he feels. Shame. Like he felt when he came back from Erudite, and like when he left Tris.

He’s so broken over her. Why? When she forgot he existed the moment he left? Loving someone when they don’t love you back. In a way, that’s Caleb’s entire life, living to make others happy, even when they treat you like trash. It’s a life I could never live, and I can’t even imagine what 16 years of that could do to a person.

Would someone ever care for me like Caleb does Tris?

I point my thumb at the door. “ I should go.”

I put my hand on the door handle, when Caleb suddenly shouts, “Wait! Don’t. Can’t you stay?”

“It sounds like I’m needed-”

“Since when have you listened to orders?” He interrupts. “Can’t you stay? I want to keep playing.”

He’s right. I don’t listen to orders. I lock his door, before sitting down and picking my cards back up. “Alright then, that’s fine by me. I was about to win, anyways.”

-

Today, my job is to escort Tris to a room where they will take brain scans. I know why they want me to take her everywhere: it’s to trigger her and get a big reaction. It makes me seem important, hip hip hooray. Not like she cares.

I open her cell door and walk in, hand to the gun hanging on my hip. “Let’s go, Stiff.”

“I’m not Abnegation. And now you’re an Erudite lackey, you can’t call me ‘Stiff.’ It’s inaccurate.”

I groan. She sounds exactly like her brother, but in a more annoying way, and like she wants to kill me. Very different from Caleb, fortunately.

“I said, let’s go.”

“What, no snide comments? No ‘You’re an idiot for coming here; your brain must be deficient as well as Divergent’?”

“That really goes without saying, doesn’t it? Now, you can either get up or I can drag you down the hallway. Your choice.”

She stands and walks out of the room. I hover near her, ready to take hold of her arm if she tries to bolt. 

“Did they fix up your bullet wound?” She asks me. 

“Yeah. Now you’ll have to find a different weakness to exploit. Too bad I’m fresh out of them.” I say it more to make myself feel better, and she hardly shrugs at it. “We’re late, hurry up.” That’s partially my fault. 

We walk through a maze of hallways, one’s I remember only because of how many times I’ve made the trek from my room to Caleb’s. 

“I see you cut your hair. Why? You almost look normal, it’s hideous.”

“I wanted it to look like yours. I really liked your haircut back in Amity, thought I should try it too. Makes me look Divergent, doesn’t it?”

Her brows furrow. “Do you even know anything about the Divergent?”

“Sure. They’re impulsive, loud, immune to serums, and they screwed up the faction system.”

Tris stops walking for a second, and I nearly run into her. “Erudite is killing us, Peter.”

“Like I didn’t know that. You guys are killing each other; there’s hardly a difference. We’re trying to fix the world after the Divergent destroyed it.”

“They’re- You are killing innocent people ! Yesterday, you almost made children commit suicide! In what world is that fixing the world?” She yells at me, her eyes brimming with tears.

The floor sways under my feet. Only a little, but it’s enough to stop me in my tracks. Suicide .

Tris keeps moving, and I force myself to follow her, speeding my steps. And I’m saved, funny as it is, by Jeanine, who takes Tris and with her the horrible things she told me.

-

The word ‘Suicide’ lingers in my mind as I escort Tris back to her room. It’s a word that makes me hold my breath, that brings me back to the edge of the Chasm, and makes me shiver. 

We take a left turn, and a group of people stand at the other end of the hallway. Tris stops in her tracks, and she gasps, making me turn to look. That’s when I see him.

Four, held at each arm by a Dauntless soldier, with a gun aimed at the back of his skull. Blood trails down the side of his face and stains his white shirt.

I frown at the thought of what he went through to get here. Specifically, what mental process. It had to be an excruciating one to offer yourself, when you’re unnecessary, to face your death. Suicide .

“I’m sorry,” I mutter, most likely too quietly for Tris to hear, before grabbing her shoulders roughly and holding her in place. 

She doesn’t even flinch. “Tobias.”

As the Dauntless soldiers push Four forward, I do the same with Tris. However, her feet remain planted. I thought she would have liked to see him, but now she’s hesitant. What does she want ? 

“What did you do?” Tris cries, and as we pass Four in the halls, he takes her hand. She repeats herself, this time screaming. I have to hold her harder to keep her steady, or else she'll send herself flying into his arms.

“You die, I die too. I asked you not to do this. You made your decision. These are the repercussions.”

Four disappears around a corner, and Tris stops struggling, instead allowing me to push her back to her cell. She slumps onto her bed the moment we enter, but I occupy the doorway.

“Why did he come here?” I ask.

“Because he’s an idiot.”

“Well, yeah. Did he think he could rescue you? Sounds like a Stiff-born thing to do.”

“I don’t think so,” she says, resting her head against the wall. And then the tears come, welling up in her eyes. She blinks them out. “I think he came to die with me.” She covers her mouth with her hand, stifling a sob.

I scowl, like she offended me. “That’s ridiculous. That doesn’t make sense. He’s eighteen; he’ll find another girlfriend once you’re dead, and he’s stupid if he doesn’t know that.”

“If you think that’s what it’s about, you’re the stupid one.”

“Yeah. Whatever.”

-

Sometimes, I look at Tris and feel something like pity. She’s too too short to reach anything, too wiry to outrun anyone, and too freaking loud to keep her loved ones safe. Days I escort her to Jeanine and she goes willingly are the worst, because I understand. I could never fully relate to Tris, but whatever horrible thoughts are going through her head, I’m sure I’ve experienced, and probably handled worse than her. I have scars to prove that.

At other times, I look at Tris and laugh at what a fake she is. She’s gotten so many people killed, more than necessary. People close to her. She’s destructive, hurts those around her, and isn’t capable of putting herself in another person’s situation. She’s a liar, and a fraud. She hurts the people she loves most.

And finally, I look at myself. I said Tris and I could never relate, but I’m sure more than both of us know, we can. Because I do those things too. I have, I’ve done it for years. I’ve gotten people killed. I’m destructive, and I am somehow always the problem. I’ve done cruel, unforgivable things to Tris. For a long time, I’ve wished that once I made it even with Tris, I could hate her again. I, too, hurt people.

And I'm bound to hurt Caleb. It’s going to happen, it has to, because it always does. Then why do I still spend my days with Caleb?

It’s the smile he gives me. It’s the way he trusts me with useless information he’s obsessed with. It’s the look in his eyes that tells me the sky’s the limit, that he can do more, that he wants to. Is it selfish of me to want that limit? To want to hold it’s hand, listen to it talk, watch it bring me along for who knows what reason?

Is it selfish to want Caleb?

Would it be selfish if he wanted me back? That’s an Erudite level question I can’t answer, but Caleb talks to me for a reason, and it has to because he wants me in some way, shape or form. Why?

Caleb could want me to make himself look better to others. Or worse, to help him feel better about himself. I could just be there as an assurance that there’s someone crueler, worse, and more despicable than him.

I’m not sure about anything anymore. I want to let myself bleed into the sheets until I’m forgotten. I want to live, but my bed is so comfortable, the dark is promising, and my mind is clearer when I lie down. I want to lie down forever. Being Peter is draining.

-

I wake up early and find his cell. It wasn’t hard to find; I just asked around, and everyone knew where it was. Four’s arrival has been the talk of the town, and every corner I turn, I overhear people speculating over why he came in the first place.

I could easily enter his room with the code I know (right hand man privileges), but I knock first. When I hear an indecipherable grumble, I open the door.

Four sits up on his bed, leaning against the wall and picking at his nails, unamused. “I should have expected that you’d be here.”

“Why?” I ask.

“You’re in your element. Around people like you.“

“Jeez, relax. I just came to check on you.”

Now he’s the one to ask me ‘why.’ 

“I can?”

“Since when have you ever done things out of the goodness of your heart?”

“I’m sixteen, I change.” And then I turn on my heels and walk out before he can talk anymore, waving a little in his direction. “Buh-Bye, maybe I’ll see you again sometime.”

-

Caleb doesn’t talk when I see him. He’s never not wanted to talk, but he taps his cheeks in beat, elbows on the table, and he looks past my shoulder. His lunch is half eaten; he has left over bread crusts, his soup has made the croutons in it soggy, and the ice from his soda’s probably melted. When I ask him for his bread crusts, he doesn’t speak, instead just nodding sideways. I scab it off of his plate, but still worry.

“You’re thinking about her,” I state.

He looks up with tired eyes. “What else could I be thinking about?”

Me. Books, the faction system and how it’s deficient, nuclear war codes. I don’t say any of that, though. “All she’s ever done is make you feel unworthy of happiness.”

“But she’s my sister:”

“But why should she get whatever she wants?”

Caleb just shrugs, but specifically avoids my gaze. I continue, “is it because she’s Divergent? Special, different? She’s impulsive, and she isn’t even nice. She did this to herself.”

“But she shouldn’t die… They’re going to execute her, Peter. Nobody deserves to die.”

I know a few people who deserve to die. My brain overloads with every hypothetical response, but I shut up. He doesn’t want to hear any of that. “Maybe,” is all I say.

-

“Do you want to do this?” I ask Caleb.

“Truthfully? No,” he sighs as he straightens up. He stands confidently to the untrained eye, but his weight rests on one leg, his glasses are smudged, and I can tell he’s biting the inside of his cheek. He’s doing less to hide his fear.

“You can just tell Jeanine you don’t want to do it, she hasn’t forced you to.”

“Yes, but I knew it was coming eventually. Might as well make it my choice.“

Caleb will be revealing himself to Tris. There’s no way to prepare him for what kind of things she might do or say, but he insists. It’s the Abnegation in him, the brother that wants to do this. But underneath, the Erudite is screaming, mostly leaving Caleb’s brain an overstimulated mess. But as he said, it was coming, and now it’s here.

“At least make yourself presentable,” I say, before pinching the side of his glasses and taking them off of his face. I then wipe the smudges off with my shirt. “Your glasses are disgusting. They’re contaminating my shirt.” He gives me a crooked smile, then takes his glasses back.

“Do you even need those glasses?” I ask, pushing his glasses up his nose by the bridge. They’re wirey with blue frames, making his eyes seem larger.

“No, I don’t. I just like how they look.”

“They make your face look rounder.”

“How would you know that’s not what I’m going for?” 

I shrug. Cool for him, I guess. I nod to Caleb, lingering for only a second before leaving him to go collect Tris.

After putting Tris through a simulation, Jeanine looks at me for a second longer, the sign that the big moment is going to be happening now. I stand to Tris’ left as she sits on a padded bench, and I clench my fist, preparing for what happens next.

Caleb enters the room, shoulders slumped, hands in a knot behind his back. “Beatrice,” he says.

Tris jerks, like she was asleep and was just woken up. She glares at him with the same intensity I’ve seen her stare at Eric and I. “Did you ever leave Erudite?”

“It’s not that simple,” he starts. “I-“

“It is that simple. At what point did you betray our family? Before our parents died, or after?”

“I did what I had to do. You think you understand this, Beatrice, but you don’t. This whole situation… it’s much bigger than you think it is.” His eyes plead for her to understand, but his tone is scolding.

Tris stands, and I take one step in front of her, anything to separate her from Caleb. “You still haven’t answered my question,” she spits out.

Caleb takes a step back, and I can see the Erudite gears turning in his head again, overworking themselves to find a valid solution.

“This isn’t about Erudite; it’s about everyone. All the factions, and the city. And what’s outside the fence.”

“I don’t care,” Tris says, although every Candor lesson I went through tells me she does. “I thought you were all about facts. About freedom of information? Well, how about this fact, Caleb? When did you betray our parents?” Her voice quakes, but she stands up straight, her hands folded into fists.

“I have always been Erudite,” he says softly. “Even when I was supposed to be Abnegation.”

“Then I hate you. If you’re with Jeanine, I hate you, just like our father would have.” I turn to watch Caleb’s expression. He just presses his lips together, an entirely different reaction than I was expecting.

“Our father was Erudite, Beatrice.”

“He wasn’t Erudite. He chose to leave them, he chose a different identity, just like you, and became something else. Only, you chose evil.”

“Evil depends on where you stand.”

“No matter where I stand, I’ll still think mind controlling an entire city of people is evil. I’ll still think delivering your sister to be executed is evil!”

She stares directly in his eyes, looking like she wants to tear him to pieces. 

“ You’re evil , Caleb. So get out of my life. Mother and Father would hate you for what you’ve become.”

-

And Caleb is gone. 

My legs ache, and seeing him hurt gives me a flaring, burning in my chest. Tris doesn’t know a thing about what Caleb has gone through.

Tris sits down, listening to Jeanine talk, and I am running before I know it, chasing Caleb through the halls. I never see his face, but instead spy a part of his heel or book bag around a corner before he disappears.

The word that rattles through my head, screaming at me, is ’ Suicide .’ Self Sacrifice. People do it for love, is Caleb willing to go to that length for his love for Tris?

When I turn the corner of his room’s hallway, I hardly catch a glimpse of him before he quickly disappears behind a door. 

“Caleb, can I come in?”

Nothing. The pacing of my heart has me knocking again. I repeat myself. 

I have to get in there. He won’t listen to me, but I’m going to stay, and I’ll listen to him forever. I would be the one pulling my hair or something worse in this situation, but under no circumstances can I let Caleb do that to himself.

I look up and down the hall, before muttering an apology under my breath and rushing in to find my friend.

Caleb sits on the floor in the corner of his bedroom. He looks down at his knees, which are pressed up to his chest. Tears stream down his cheeks. He makes sounds, says things that are supposed to be words, but I don’t understand any of it. Everything he says slurs together, while at the same time he’s trying to breathe when it’s impossible. His breaths come out rapid and ragged. His hands hover around his head, twitching up and down, shaking. They tic like he wants to do everything, but can’t put them in one place at a time.

He jerks when I come in, but says nothing, and won’t look at me. Instead, he hugs his knees to his chest and rocks, burying his face in his arms.

“Caleb.” His hands rush to cover his ears, pressing into his skull. His elbows close around his head, and he shuts his eyes. That’s fine, just screwing him up more, nice one Peter .

It’s like a routine when I get up and flick off the lights. The whole dorm is dark, with a single night light on near his bed, most likely for reading at night. I turn off the fan, lock his door, and take off my shoes before joining him on the floor, a few feet away.

The quiet is filled only with his sobs. Otherwise, it’s silent. He doesn’t say anything I understand, but he doesn’t have to. I know he wants silence, and that’s what I’ll give him.

I sit there for minutes, leaning my head against the wall and refraining from making a sound. His sobs get quieter over time, but he’s still crying. He will try a shaky inhale, before ending it in a short, high pitched exhale.

“Peter?”

“Mhm?”

He hesitates, before in a voice I can hardly hear, says, “I’m scared.”

“That’s okay.”

“I don’t know what to do.”

“That’s fine.”

“No, it’s not,” he insists, raising his voice.

“You don’t have to know what to do-“

“I do! I’ve had to my whole life!”

I close my eyes, my head resting on the wall. “Well,” I say, “You don’t have to know right now.”

He sniffles. 

“Peter?”

“Yes?”

Caleb clears his throat. He’s silent for a second. “I… I used to cut.”

I open my eyes. My heart speeds up. “What?” 

Caleb doesn’t look at me, but his eyes fill with tears once again, and he brushes his eyes with his knuckles. He puts everything he can into steadying his voice. “I used to cut.”

My nose burns with the threat of crying myself, and I can’t help but scoot closer to Caleb. But I don’t say anything, instead letting dread and terror pool in my stomach. How can he trust me enough to tell me this?

“I used to cut all the time; in Abnegation, when my parents died, and I thought I was okay in Erudite, but who knows? Am I going to go back to that?” He looks up and gives a lopsided fake smile, tears pouring down his red cheeks. “I’m scared, Peter.”

I swallow. “It’s okay to be scared,” I say with a limp in my voice. “That’s alright.”

“I used to take razors, scissors, screwdrivers- I would cut myself and it made me feel better in some crazy way, and I hated it, but… at the same time, I needed it.”

Caleb takes the rim of his jeans and pulls them up, slowly, first revealing his ankle before bringing his jeans all the way to the knee. There are scars running up and down his leg. Lines are parallel, like tally marks; some are nearly unnoticeable, and others still a glowing pink. Other divots and marks riddle his leg in random places, painting it in a splotchy red. He won’t look at me.

My hands tremble, and I open my mouth in the slightest to say something, but there’s nothing. I have no words.

I was sure Tris didn’t know a thing about what he’s gone through. I suppose I didn’t either.

“I thought I was done, but I’m scared-” he sharply intakes a breath, and his shoulders rise and fall with it, his hands shaking themselves out. “I don’t want to go back to that. I thought I was doing great, I don’t want to feel worthless, Peter, I don’t want to feel worthless!”

“You’re not worthless,” I tell him. “You’re great, and you’re so brave for telling me that. You’re not worthless, you mean the world to me. I promise you, you’re worth so much to so many people, you’re worth more than you ever thought.”

“How am I supposed to know you’re being honest?”

“I’m being honest, trust me. You feel like you can’t please everyone, but when you do, nobody appreciates it.”

He shrugs half-heartedly. “Yeah, something like that.”

“I understand. It might not make you feel any better, but I’ve got those too.”

He stops, and for the first time through his meltdown, looks me in the eyes. “You do?”

“Yeah, I do.” Without a second of reluctance, I take the sleeve of my jacket and pull it up too to reveal what it hides. My scars. They’re more erratically placed than Caleb’s, up and down my arms in faded lines. This isn’t like me. I’ve never, willingly, shown anyone the marks on my arms, but Caleb trusts me, and I feel that maybe I can trust him too.

“I noticed. I didn’t think they were there because of… yourself, though.”

“I figured. You can be scared, it’s okay. I know what it’s like, and I’m not mad at all.” I’ve repeated the same words, over and over, but it’s the only reassurance I have to offer. I don’t know how else I can help, but to let him know this isn’t his fault.

Caleb’s bottom lip quivers, and his shoulders twitch. “I’m sorry you had to go through that too.”

“I’ll be alright,” I assure him, tugging my sleeve back down over my wrists. “I’ll be fine. I’m just worried about you.” 

“I’ll be fine too.”

I don’t expect it when he grabs my arm without warning, and pulls me into a reassuring hug. I’m shocked, but he holds me tight, and I don’t make any effort to let him go. He buries his face into my chest, leaving a soppy, wet puddle on my shirt. But he begins to cry harder. Even more surprising, I feel patient when I ask him “what’s wrong” for what may be the 10th time.

“You don’t deserve cutting either.”

I do , but I tell him, “I’m not planning to anytime soon.”

“That’s not reassuring,” he mumbles.

“What do you want me to do?”

Without a second of hesitation, “Promise.”

I lose my voice. I can’t promise him that. I’m not going to, I can’t. 

I’m terrified Caleb will revert back to self harm. This whole time, I was confident that I could protect Caleb from knowing what these things are like, but I was too late. He already knows. I would give anything to protect him now, but in a world where I don’t know what my future holds, I can’t promise him that I won’t do the same thing he’s tempted to do. 

I’m unsure of what to say. I want to help him. I want to be patient, I want to hold his hand and tell him I love him, but I can’t make a promise. I won’t do it.

“Peter?”

“You want me to promise?” 

“Yes. Please?” He grips my jacket tighter, and lifts his head a little, pressing his cheek against my shoulder. “Can you please promise me you won’t cut yourself again?”

“...I can’t promise.”

He shudders in my arms, and rocks calmly, swaying. I follow along. “I know it’s a lot to ask. Please, Peter.”

“You should promise me.”

There’s a moment of silence. If he can understand the position he put me in, neither of us may have to make a promise tonight. He starts, “Peter-“

“You don’t have to,” I cut in. “I don’t have to, and that-“

“I’ll promise.”

My heart sinks. 

He’s willing to promise me?

I straighten my back, and politely leave his grip. “I think- uhm, can’t we talk about something different?”

He looks disappointed, and his brow furrows, but his eyes are clear of tears and he gives me a weak smile. “Sure, I'm sorry. We can, but what about?”

“Anything else. How about you tell me about your books?”

“I can?”

“If it’s interesting, go for it.”

-

“Stiff.”

Tris lies in bed, her hands clutching her pillow. There’s a wet patch on her pillow, and she rubs her eyes. She’s already had a horrible time, and unfortunately for her, I come bearing more bad news. I debate whether I’m ecstatic or ashamed of her fate.

I tell her exactly what Jeanine told me this morning. “Your execution has been scheduled for tomorrow morning at eight o’clock.”

“My… execution? But she hasn’t developed the right serum yet, she couldn’t possibly…”

“She said she would continue the experiments on Four instead of you.”

She nods, slowly, holding her pillow and rocking back and forth. “Oh,” she says.

I don’t know what I want to say, but I know I need to say something. Guilt urges me to, and I might vomit if I don’t get this out of the way. I hate her for everything she’s done to Caleb, but I can hate myself for what I’ve done to her. There’s a lot of hate in this room, and I can sense that not all of it is coming from just me, but clearing it up would be a weight off my shoulders.

“Tris.”

“Hmm?” She hums, still avoiding my gaze, rocking herself through her emotions. 

“I-“ I’m sorry ? That’s weak. I’m a freaking failure? A little better. You’re a terrible sister, that could work too. She tells me we’re not the same, almost every time I see her, but all I see is myself in her. Or worse, her becoming like me.

“Yes?” She asks after seconds have passed.

I hesitate. Then, “It’s 9:24.”

I leave her, thinking about the fact that she’s going to die, and I told her the time. Freaking failure? Absolutely.

-

I sit at my small desk, pen in hand, but I don’t write anything. Instead, I stare at the blank page. I don’t know where to begin. 

Something about Tris being here scares me. And I can’t stop thinking about her, I don’t know why. I’ve said there’s hate and guilt, but which is it?

I begin making 2 lists. I title them: Hate, and Guilt. I begin writing the ways I hate her.

Hate:

• She treats Caleb horribly
• She shot me
• She’s humiliated me multiple times
• She wants to has threatened to kill me

It’s a pretty sad list so far. I grip my pen, and think of moving it, but my hand refuses. I’m not even sure where to start on the second one. These lists were supposed to define my final decision, but I can’t even fathom the amount of items that could be under the Guilt list. And that’s depressing.

It ranges from direct interactions, like the day I was dangling her over the edge of the Chasm, to whatever event that triggered her coming here that I took part in. Nobody should be killed without reason, nobody should be forced to commit suicide under a simulation, and absolutely nobody should be subject to abuse of any kind. And somehow, I broke every single one of those rules.

The world works in a way where if someone does something, the other is required to do something back, whether it’s a good act or a bad one. Tris has many things over me, and while I could hate her, I could hate her more freely if I helped her.

What the hell. I’m getting Tris out of here.

-

I don’t want to tell Caleb my plan. I don’t want to connect him at all to it, because if I really go through with this, I might get people killed. I can’t let that be Caleb. I could ask him to come with me, but would that be smart? Not exactly. I have to trust that he trusts me.

When I see Caleb at dinner, he looks defeated. He looks so much different after everything he’s gone through -his hair has gotten longer and curlier since Amity, he’s lost some weight, and the glimmer in his eyes at the idea of knowledge has dimmed. It’s a shame. It doesn’t make him less beautiful, but it still pains me to see him so beat.

“What are you doing tomorrow?” I ask him.

“I don’t know,” he says, shrugging half-heartedly. He thinks Tris is going to die tomorrow, he doesn’t have to tell me how he’s planning to mourn. Luckily, with what I’m going to do, he won’t have to.

And then, “Peter.”

I look up at him, raising an eyebrow to tell him I’m listening. Caleb looks down, picking at his mashed potatoes and pushing them around. “I…. Uhm, I have something to ask.”

“Sure.”

He opens his mouth, but nothing comes out. He turns and coughs, before clearing his throat and looking me in the eyes. “I know you hate Tris. But… they’re going to kill her. I know you know, but still.”

I take a long breath. He’s scared to talk to me, he’s going to ask me for something. And I’m going to say yes. I’m scared I know what it’s going to be, and that I’m already planning something similar. I turn away, but quietly say, “I can help.”

“...Really?”

“I’ll be there at the execution. I can do something to help,” I tell him with a strained voice.

He stares at me, and I’m confident he’s going to ask me ‘how,’ in which I’d respond that I don’t know. But he asks me. “Why? Why would you help her?”

“There’s- There’s a lot of reasons. But I’ll do it.”

And then Caleb averts his gaze, and I’m sure I did something wrong. “But, when you do, you’re not going to tell her I asked you right?”

“Did you… want me to tell her?”

“No! Don’t, please. Don’t tell her I had any part of this.”

“You don’t want her to know? That could help you guys fix your relationship-”

“It shouldn’t have to be about that!  I mean, I want to save her because she’s my sister. Because it’s what my parents would have wanted. Because I love her. But I can’t force her to forgive me.”

The air is tense, but we breathe, and we’re back in reality. Time passes.

“You know that I won’t be able to come back from that. I won’t return to Erudite.” 

I only came here because it was the lesser of two dangers. But for Caleb, I would throw all of it out in an instant. Big danger fan, me. ‘Faction before Blood,’ sure, but have you ever heard of ‘Faction before the dorkiest, nerdiest, most perfect love of your life?’ No you haven’t, which is exactly my point. Completely legal. Screw factions.

“But you’ll be safe, right?” He asks me.

“I’ll be alright.”

I wonder if he would throw all of Erudite out for someone like me.

“Thank you so much, Peter.”

“No problem, Gorgeous.”

-

I go to Caleb’s room when I can’t sleep. Now I lie on the small couch in his room, my head and feet sitting on the arm rests, my hands folded over my stomach. I look at the ceiling, occasionally glancing out of the large window, where the sight is nothing but street lights in the dark and more windows. Caleb lies down on his bed nearby, also looking at the ceiling. Looking anywhere but at me. The soft pattering of rain on the windows is soothing and quiet.

“So,” I begin. “Tomorrow’s the big day.”

“Yup,” he says, with a tone of voice that I can’t recognize the mood of. It’s like Caleb has slowly become immune to my Candor methods of finding the truth about people. He can keep a straight face when he has to, and I’m positive he’s told me a lie before, but it happened to pass through the Candor filter I was raised with.

I sit up, quickly, like I am possessed with the Dauntless man I had been searching for all those years in Candor. I turn to Caleb, and shake my head, trying to speak. 

“You…” You could come with us , I want to tell him. I can say it, get it out, Peter . 

“Yes?” He asks me, now turning to look back at me. He has the same large eyes as when I first met him, like they’re the symbol of everything he’s gone through since the world screwed. And he’s looking right at me. Just as soon as he comes, the Dauntless man runs away, again, never brave enough.

Say it, coward .

But I hold my tongue. I shut up, and I don’t say it. “Nothing.”

There’s a silence that lingers. It’s like it’s festering, nearly choking me. 

Caleb’s soft voice breaks it. “Thank you. For being willing to save Beatrice. But why?” He asks. He props his head up on his arm and turns his body so he’s kicking his feet slowly in the air.

I breathe in sharply. My voice catches in my throat. “Well-“ There are a lot of reasons. 

I used to question how I felt, but now it’s real. It’s so much more real than I ever thought, and for the first time, I’m being honest with myself. I know that I love Caleb.

It’s the way he talks to me, and doesn’t care about the stuff I’ve done in the past. It’s because he’s kind, and his smile makes me think there’s hope for the world. It’s his stupid glasses and blue sweatshirt, both too big for him, both I absolutely love. It’s because he’s so smart, and at the same time so socially awkward it hurts. He’s a dork, and he listens to me, and most of all, he talks. He’s going places, and wants to, when I don’t. He could drag me halfway across the world, and I would still obsess over the fact that he wants to travel the other half.

It’s the Abnegation in him that makes him considerate, and then the Erudite in him that makes him ambitious. I don’t know how he could possibly be both at once, but I want it more than I've wanted anything before. I want Caleb.

Since I’ve met Caleb, I’ve classified him as either Abnegation or Erudite, but now I know he’s just Caleb. A healthy mix of both faction qualities, in a way that has stolen my heart entirely.

Caleb’s shallow breaths fill the silence, but this time in a pleasant way. It doesn’t choke me, but instead invites me. 

I cross the room and take a seat on his bed. He sits up and scoots over so he can kick his feet over the side of the bed now. 

“Well,” I start again, clearing my throat slightly. “I think I’m doing it for you.”

He blinks slowly, and with how close we are, I can clearly see the color of his eyes: green. A beautiful, deep green, a color I took for granted until I saw it’s full potential. Now, it has to be my favorite. The most beautiful color, because Caleb wears it, and that’s enough for me. I swear to myself I will never forget it.

Caleb moves toward me, and then takes my hand. His hand is cold, but grips mine, and I couldn’t care less of how it feels. With his other hand, he takes my cheek, and then with the confidence I didn’t have, he leans forward and puts his mouth against mine.

His eyes close, mine follow, and now I lean into the kiss like I need it to live. 

Nobody’s ever kissed me like this before; it’s passionate, but with no taking. Instead, it’s giving. His lips are soft, and with them, he gives me the 16 years of real, genuine love I’ve never had.

I do my best to give the same. I tangle my right hand in his hair, and with my other take his waist to pull him closer. With both hands, he holds my chin and steadies it with his, kissing me harder until I’m sure I’m melting in his arms.

This might never happen again, and if it ruins my life, then so be it. I’m tired, and I just want to spend one moment in this hell of a world with the person I love. Is that too much to ask? 

I’m brave for doing this, but I’m not Dauntless; I’m Peter. And while Peter may suck, he’s braver than any Dauntless I know, and right now, he has the most supportive loser in the world, kissing him and reminding him that there will always be something worth living for.

He loves me he loves me he loves me

My arms wrap around his neck, and I break from his lips to pepper several kisses along the side of his face, as he holds me tightly over my back and buries his face in my shoulder, shuddering from his heavy breaths.

I pull away for only a second to breathe in; a breath more refreshing than the day I transferred to Dauntless, when I was on the Peace Serum, more than any day I’ve felt free. “Do you know how long I’ve wanted to kiss you?”

“You already have,” he says, voice muffled from speaking against my jacket.

“That doesn’t count. I mean really kissed.”

He pulls away for a second, one hand in mine, the other clutching my shoulder. He stares at me, with a smile that reaches his eyes and shows his teeth. His hair is tousled and spiked up in a dozen places, but he loves me and that’s all that matters.

“No, I don’t know how long.” He shakes his head.

“Since a while.” I laugh a little. He follows along, and this time I take the opportunity to kiss him first; again and again, as we hold each other closely and tell each other just how much we love each other back.

-

“Do you want to stay here for the night?” Caleb asks.

“Absolutely.”

“Then get in bed. And take off your jacket, you’ll wrinkle it.” Like it isn’t already wrinkled. Oddly, it doesn’t irk me when I take off my jacket, no complaints. My arms are openly exposed, but I don’t feel the need to say anything. Instead, I hang my jacket loosely on his chair and lie down in the bed with Caleb.

I rest my head in the crook of his arm and still cling to him, like if I lessen my grip in the slightest, someone might steal him and I will never see him again. 

He tilts his head to rest on mine and puts an arm over my shoulders. He doesn’t say anything demeaning when sees my wrists, but holds me instead, scars and all.

My eyes half shut in sleep, I whisper, “They don’t bother you?”

“No, they don’t. But that doesn’t mean I don’t care about them,” he says. “I do. They just don’t make me care for you any less.” Slowly, Caleb intertwines our hands, and places them over his chest in a place I can clearly feel the calm beating of his heart. 

I feel safe enough to close my eyes. Then, I have to ask. “So, for real, we’re in a gay love affair now?”

Caleb laughs, and I feel a pinprick of heat in my heart from the joy of making him laugh. It’s an honor I take the most credit for. “Yes, we are.”

“Nice,” I say, before burying my face further into the fabric of his blue shirt. He smells like cheap cologne and dusty computer office, a hasty summary of his average day. “By the way, you smell awful.”

”Thanks Peter,” Caleb says with a long sigh. He closes his eyes. 

Then, “I love you, Peter.”

And again, there’s a deep feeling inside of me, something warm, something that reminds me of my mother, Cara, and now, Caleb. Love . I, without a doubt, know Caleb loves me, and I love him right back.

“I love you too.”

-

When I wake up from my watch alarm, I nearly fall back asleep in Caleb’s arms. I know there’s an execution I have to attend, but he’s so warm and his bed is so comfortable. 

But my snooze alarm on my watch goes off, and I nearly fly out of bed from the volume setting. Screw you, watch. Get a life.

I stretch for a second, lingering as long as I can in Caleb’s room. I spend extra time brushing my teeth (it took a bit of digging, but turns out Caleb does have a spare toothbrush. Of course he would), I stretch some more, and then I save some time for reminiscing on last night. Even the truth serum couldn’t get me to deny that that was probably the best moment of my life. 

He’s my boyfriend ! It’s such an exhilarating thought. How in the world did Peter the loser get Caleb Prior? No clue, but I’m not planning anything to test how. 

I check my watch. There’s two minutes to spare till the execution. I’ve got time.

Caleb sleeps like a sick Victorian child, lying in bed completely still, except for the soft rising and falling of his chest. I leave him with a soft kiss on the cheek, and I fold up his glasses on the nightstand before I leave.

I then go to Tris’ room, ready. I tell her it’s time to go, and barely look at her, instead scowling at the back wall. She stands, and together we walk down the hallway.

We turn a corner, and I hear muffled shouts. At first I can’t tell what the voice is saying, but as we draw closer, it takes shape. 

“I want to… her! I… see her!” It’s Four.

Will he ever shut up? Tris glances at me. “I can’t speak to him one last time, can I?”

I shake my head. “No. There’s a window to his cell, though. Maybe if he sees you he’ll finally shut up.” Trust me, that would be a blessing. He’s been yelling his lungs out every time I pass a close by hallway.

I take her to the corridor he’s in, and Tris spies the window near the top, right above her head. It’s similar to the cell Caleb was held in when first coming to Erudite.

“Tris! I want to see her!” He yells. 

She reaches up and places a palm against the glass. The shouts stop, and Four’s face appears behind the glass. His face is red and blotchy, and he stares for a few seconds before aligning his hand with hers on the glass.

Tris then slowly takes her hand away, joining me in the main hallway.

“Thank you,” she says quietly.

“Whatever. Let’s just go.” 

It was a beautiful moment, I have to admit. Their romance won’t last, and I’m sure when she dies, Four will move on. But it’s a powerful connection, it has to be if he’s willing to die for her. 

I step back to let Tris go ahead of me, and she walks herself to the door of her execution chamber.

She lies down on the grey table in the middle of the room herself. I press an electrode right over her heart, then attach a wire to it and switch on the heart monitor. This is the part where I needed Caleb’s help: making her look dead on the heart monitor.

I hand Jeanine a syringe and a dyed serum. She takes it, none the wiser, and I have to smirk to myself at how well this is working. Jeanine holds Tris’ head steady with one hand and inserts the needle into her neck with the other.

Tris’ eyes go wide, and her mouth hangs open as Jeanine presses the plunger down.

I lean forward and look into her eyes. “The serum will go into effect in one minute,” I say. “Be brave, Tris.”

It’s what Four told initiates as they went into their first simulation, and by the twitch in her eye at the line, I know she knows.

Her head drops to the side, and the heart monitor stops beeping. To everyone else, she’s dead. But I know she’s just paralyzed. Cool points to me, that was probably the hardest part of the plan. I push her eyelids over her eyes, dramatically lowering my head because I can’t pass up the opportunity to.

“Take the body to the lab,” Jeanine says. “The autopsy is scheduled for this afternoon.”

“Alrighty.” I push the table forward, passing a group of Erudite bystanders, all ogling at the sight of a real, authentic dead person. They wish.

Tris’ hand falls off the edge of the corner and as we turn a corner, it smacks into a wall. I have to hold in a snort at that, and continue down the hallway. I begin slowly, but as I turn a corner, I pick up the pace. I’m nearly sprinting down the next corridor, and then I stop abruptly.

“Sorry, Stiff,” I tell her. I slide my arms under her knees and shoulders, and lift her. Her head falls against my shoulder, and I cringe as I realize this is going to be a chore. “For someone so small, you’re heavy ,” I mutter. She probably eats rocks for breakfast.

Struggling to have a free hand, I press in a code into Four’s door, and soon enough, his door opens. 

He scrambles towards me the second he sees Tris. “Tris! What-“

“Spare me your blubbering, okay?” I interrupt. “She’s not dead; she’s just paralyzed. It’ll only last for about a minute. Now get ready to run.”

“Let me carry her,” Four insists, putting his arms out to take her.

“No way, you’re a better shot. Take my gun, I’ll carry her.” 

Four brushes a bit of hair out of Tris’ face, before taking my gun and following me as I run through the halls.

I open more doors and charge through them, before I feel Tris start to squirm in my arms. “Careful!” She yells, strained. I roll my eyes, but turn myself sideways to get her through the door. I nudge it shut with my heel, then drop her on the floor.

The room is almost empty except for a row of empty trash cans and a metal, square door, large enough to fit through.

Four and Tris crouch next to each other, kissing instantly. I gag. It’s mostly to get them to stop, but in a way, public and physical displays of affection are uncomfortable to see. I would say it makes the action seem less meaningful. However, I probably wouldn’t know what that healthily looks like. 

“Unless you want me to throw up all over you guys, you might want to save it for later.”

“Where are we?” Tris asks.

“This is the trash incinerator. I turned it off.” I explain the rest of the plan on how we’re going to get out, and then I open the door to the incinerator.

Four gestures to Tris. “Ladies first.” 

I fight the urge to charge head first down the chute. I laugh to myself, but say nothing and watch as Tris goes down. Tris yells a little as she slides down the short metal chute. After a few seconds, she shouts, “Go ahead!” 

I nod to Four, before practically jumping in. It looks cool, but I immediately smack my arms into the sides of the shoot and regret it. I land on my side, and groan as I crawl away from the opening.

“Don’t say I never took you anywhere nice,” I sputter out.

“Wouldn’t dream of it,” Tris replies.

Four falls down the chute, and I stretch as he recovers. “Got that gun?” I ask him.

“No. I figured I would shoot the bullets out my nostrils, so I left it upstairs.”

“Oh shut up.”

-

We sprint through the avenues, looking over corners to see if any Dauntless are there. Anyone we see is shot by Four. We go through old Factionless dwellings, hopping over boxes of rotten food and torn multicolored clothing. 

We’re running when Tris yanks my sleeve and drags me to the nearest building. I thrash at first, I will strangle her if she rips my jacket, but she pulls me into one of the rooms, and Four locks the door behind us. We then crouch underneath an emergency stairwell, all panting and out of breath. 

“We can hide here,” Four says, and now I understand. I sit down, knees drawn to my chest and catching my breath. My eyes scan the stairwell, and then find Tris’ eyes, watching me.

“What? Why are you looking at me like that?”

“How did you do it?”

“It wasn’t that hard. I dyed a paralytic serum purple and switched it with the death serum. The bit with the heart monitor was harder; I had to get some Erudite help- you wouldn’t understand it if I explained it to you.”

“ Why did you do it? You want me dead. You were willing to do it yourself! What changed? I would never have expected this.”

“Oh yeah, because I don’t have feelings. I'm just a husk of shit, right?” 

I press my lips in a line, but don’t look away. Why did I do this? Plenty of reasons. Maybe it’s because I feel like throwing up whenever I think of the things I’ve done to her. It might be because I love her brother, and it’s what he wanted. Both answers sound right.

I open my mouth, but hesitate. I can’t tell her about Caleb, so I might have to go with the other option. “I can’t be in anyone’s debt. Okay? The idea that I owed you something made me sick. I couldn't get sleep some nights because of everything. All of it. I couldn’t have it.”

“You’re insane,” Four says. “That’s not the way the world works… with everyone keeping score.”

“It’s not?” I’ve made lists on this stuff, I have the freaking proof in my pocket, that’s exactly how the world works. “I don’t know what world you live in, but in mine, people only do things for two reasons. The first is if they want something in return. And the second is if they feel like they owe you something.”

“Those aren’t the only reasons people do things for you. Sometimes they do them because they love you. Well, maybe not you , but…”

I snort at that. Little does she know I was making out with her brother all night. She doesn’t have to know though. It’s funnier. “That’s exactly the kind of garbage I expect a delusional Stiff to say.”

“I could have just forgiven you,” Tris says. Like it’s that easy .

“I never asked you to. I didn’t expect you to.”

Tris shakes her head at that. Oh, like she hasn’t felt guilty in her life. I wouldn’t be surprised if she said she hasn’t. I’m not sure if saving both of their lives has helped me feel better about myself. Maybe. Of course, she doesn’t have to forgive me. I’m not forgiving people who have done similar things to me, no matter how they change or make it up. But ideally, this can turn into a tentative relationship, with poor trust, but less accusations. That’s fine by me.

And most of all, Caleb would sleep well knowing his sister is alive. It’s the least I can do for every time he’s put up with me.

-

We’re welcomed like hero’s when we arrive at the Factionless camp in the old Abnegation houses. Every eye watches Tris.

So this is my life now. Crummy living conditions with people who couldn’t get through general initiation. 

We’re led into the living room of a house that looks identical to the others. Five people are crowded onto a couch, playing a card game I used to play in Candor. People litter the floor, taking a couple of bites from food in cans they hold before passing it around in a circle. Everyone wears mismatching clothes, and everyone is smiling. It’s a welcoming atmosphere, and instantly puts me at ease. Somewhat.

Tris and Four sit down with a large group, and that’s my cue to hide in the corner. I sit down in a dining chair, looking around at everyone, when a kind looking woman approaches me. Every feature of hers is sharp, but she wears a kind smile. She is another blank slate I can make an impression on. 

She holds a can of eggs, and hands them to me, along with a metal fork. I take it. “Good morning. I’m Evelyn.”

“Peter.”

“Nice to meet you, Peter.” She sits next to me, and sighs. “You’re the one who saved Tris and Four.”

“Yep,” I say, taking a bite of the eggs in the can. Disgusting. I pass it back to Evelyn with a frown.

She laughs a little at my facial expression, accepting the can and eating from it (that’s so unsanitary). “That was awfully brave of you to help them. I’m Tobias’ mother… Now, Peter, by the looks of it, you’re from Dauntless.”

“No kidding.” What gave that away: the eyeliner, black jacket, or the studs? Maybe my nails, which I got redone after the trauma of peeling them off in Amity.

This time, she looks at me harder, and I get the creeping feeling that I’m being interrogated. She breathes in deeper. “I think I’ve heard of you.”

My heart skips a beat. Who could have told her about me? 

Almost as if he were summoned, the front door opens, and the devil walks in, sporting an eyepatch with a blue eye painting on it.

Fuck, no-

Edward.

-

Why is he here? Because of you, idiot, you stabbed him . It’s his fault! Obviously, he doesn’t see it like that.

I thought he was dead, and for the first time in weeks, I haven’t thought about him daily. 

But now he’s scraped his way back into my life, still alive. For a second, I thought things were going pretty well, but my heart jumps a million beats a second, and I don’t dare to make a sound. My spine locks straight, but it’s not bravery. It’s instinct.

Because I still remember him. What his hands felt like, what they would do when nobody else was watching, and most of all, I remember the day I realized my way out was stabbing him in the eye.

“Eddie!” Someone calls out in greeting. But Edward doesn’t pass. His eyes fall directly on me. I press into the shadow of the door frame as far as I can, wishing to anyone who’ll listen to let me disappear into it.

This is one of those rare moments where I miss my mom. I’ve told myself before that I could move on without her, but right now, every sense of mine is overwhelmed, and I wish she would hold me close like she used to. 

Every eye is on us. Everyone watches Edward stalk towards me, towering over as I visibly shake. I would rather be with my father than Edward. I can’t be cold, I can’t be Dauntless. Edward isn’t a simulation. He’s real, here , and who knows what he’s going to do.

Edward stops inches from my feet, and then jerks at me like he’s about to throw a punch. I jolt back so hard I slam my head into the wall. Edwards grins at me, and my cheeks heat up at the sheer humiliation of everyone laughing at me.

“Not so brave in broad daylight,” Edward says. Then he turns to Evelyn. “Make sure you don’t give him any utensils. Never know what he might do with them.” With that, he plucks the fork from my hand.

“Give that back,” I say, too quietly. I sound pathetic, like every time I spoke to him in initiation. 

Edwards jams his free hand into my throat, and in 2 beats I’m clawing at his hand, trying to free myself. Blood rushes to my face, I kick my feet, but Edward looks at me with his one good eye and laughs. He presses the tines of the fork between his fingers, right against my neck.

“Keep your mouth shut around me,” he says, his voice low, “or I will do this again, only next time, I’ll shove it right through your esophagus.”

“That’s enough,” Evelyn says, flatly. Edward drops the fork and releases me. My hand rushes up to my throat, and through the blur of my eyes, I see him sit next to some of the factionless on the floor.

Everyone carries on, talking, laughing, living their lives, when I just got a fucking blast from the past from the single worst person I have known. He’s the kind of person that scares me to the death, the kind of scare that makes me want to shrivel up and rot. The man who could have killed me by making me do it myself.

I hold my breath. My mother once scolded me for doing it; I was just curious, but she said you could pass out if you hold it too long. I asked if I could die from doing it, and she told me no, that my instincts would eventually take over.

What a shame. I really need that right now.

That would make a lot of people happy. I’ve been told plenty of times to kill myself. Even Tris told me. But only one time did I nearly listen, and that was when it came out of Edward’s mouth.

I leave the house, and nobody notices. I find a small, tucked away stretch of grass framed by tall, leafy hedges. It’s almost too perfect. I walk through the grass, before slumping down on the side of a bench. And then I fold my arms up onto the bench, and cry.

I thought I killed him. I always thought it was too good to last, although for just a second, I believed it was true. Load of shit.

Dauntless, brave, fearless . What a joke. He still owns me, even now. He’s going to find me, and finish what he started. And no one will stop him. No one will even notice.

Caleb would notice. He would care.

I grit my teeth, squeezing my eyes shut. He’s not here. But I miss him, so unbelievably bad. He wouldn’t make me talk, but he’d be there for me. He would yap my ear off, and occasionally shake his hands out to calm himself down.

Caleb said that nobody deserves to die. He’s wrong. Edward deserves to die.