Divergent One Shots (Eric & Tris)

Eighty-Eight-A Camping Adventure 26.4

*****

I wake so refreshed and I smile remembering I'm at Eric's. I rise and step out of the room, seeing his door is still closed. I open the drawers and choose some undergarments before heading to the bathroom to shower. I feel so free from worry not having to rush—plus the water isn't freezing. I sigh happily as I finish. I dry off and notice something in the mirror—I actually have a bit of a tan. I look so different. There are a few lines on my back from my two swimsuits I've worn so far but I'm not so pale anymore. I smile and get dressed. As I open the door, I notice Eric stepping out of his bedroom.
"Morning," he grins.
"Good morning," I reply.
"Give me five minutes and we can have breakfast together," he tells me.
I chuckle in surprise.  "You must've used the showers in Amity before," I tease.
He laughs lightly at that and steps into the bathroom. I think I amuse him. I walk into my room and see that he set a bag on the dresser for me—probably to put my laundry in. I'll take the blue, too, and I'll wash them.  I set everything in there and straighten the sheets making the bed.  I hear the shower start up and it's maybe been two minutes. 
I head downstairs and stride towards the kitchen.  I open his fridge door and poke around a bit.  I still see all that bread and I'm craving toast for breakfast... with butter.  I continue to look around and he's got several dozen eggs.  It looks like he cooked the sausage and put it in a container.  There's bacon still.  I see some vegetables in here like green peppers, spinach, mushrooms...  I hear the water turn off and I think he's right.  It probably has been five minutes. 
I see some ground coffee and the coffeemaker.  I decide to be useful and make some.  I prefer mine at home to the cafeteria's anyway and the coffeehouse costs too much.  I hope he likes it strong because I do.  I put in a filter and some grounds before starting it up. 
"Coffee, you read my mind," Eric says entering the kitchen. 
I glance over my shoulder and smile at him.  He looks just like he did on the first day I met him in Dauntless... except for the casual clothes and the slight stubble on his face since he didn't shave. I don't know why I have the urge to run my fingers along his jaw. I bite my lip and observe as he opens his refrigerator.
"Do you want eggs, cereal, oatmeal...?" he questions.
"Whatever you're having," I shrug.
"Eggs it is," he nods. "Scrambled?"
"Okay," I grin. I can't believe he's making me breakfast.
He asks me to warm up the sausage and I do so. I set the table and make some toast for us, too. We sit down together to eat. I'm smiling and buttering my toast. I take a bite and sigh happily.
"You want some jam?" Eric offers.
"S... sure," I decide.
I put some of that cherry jam he has on my buttered toast. I take a bite and it's incredible.
"You look like you've never had it before," Eric teases. 
My eyes snap to meet his. 
"I haven't," I admit. 
"Stiff habits?" he asks. 
"No.  Butter on toast was unheard of," I explain.  "It's just that I haven't tried everything yet."
He nods but he's grinning at me. We eat a little together. I sip my coffee and sigh. This one is really good.
"So... I was thinking of going fishing this morning. Wanna come?" he asks.
"Okay," I agree. That sounds fun... and interesting—different than anything I've done yet.
"Alright. Are you okay in what you're wearing? We could pick up your bag from the campgrounds," he mentions.
"This is fine for now," I tell him.
"We could go later," he suggests.
"Okay," I agree.
We continue on our breakfast together and I'm enjoying his eggs. They're not dry like the cafeteria ones. We continue to chat a bit and he seems more relaxed with me... and me with him. I feel really close to him like maybe I could talk to him about anything. I have a strange sensation that I should wait to discuss certain topics. I decide while we're out seems like a better time than in here for some reason—I'm not really sure why but I'll wait, though. I just have this overpowering feeling like talking here isn't a good idea.
We clean up breakfast together and then pack a lunch for us. We make sandwiches with that grilled chicken he cooked last night. He puts cheese and dressing on it while I slice tomatoes and wash the lettuce.
"Do you like pickles?" he inquires.
"Sure," I nod, though I've never had them on a sandwich before. I don't tell him that but I'm curious in trying these.
He packs up a cooler with ice and asks me if I'll put the drinks in there. I nod and start loading it up as he grabs a small container and walks outside. I finish loading everything in including the sandwiches in a container. He comes back in grinning and washes his hands. They're covered in dirt.
"What'd you do?" I ask curiously.
"Got some bait," he shrugs.
"What kind of bait do you use?" I question intrigued.
"Bugs and worms," he smirks.
"Christina would freak out," I instantly reply.
"She would," he laughs lightly. "So many bug fears."
"Oh? There's more than the moths?" I inquire intrigued. "I know she had ants in her apartment at first that freaked her out, too."
"Several. I think different kinds of crawling and flying insects bother her... swarms and stuff," he shrugs.
I nod. "How did she survive here in the summers?" I question.
He chuckles. "Yeah, lots of bugs. The fires usually keep them away at night, the rest I just avoid."
"How did you find them then?" I inquire.
"Lift a big rock," he shrugs. "Or a log. There's usually several hiding there—worms, pill bugs, crickets, centipedes. I grabbed some grasshoppers in the back. I avoid ticks, though. I don't want them trying to bite me."
"You really have all that in there?" I question skeptically motioning to the little container.
He picks it up and shakes it. I wince in disgust.
"I'll bait your hook for you," he offers.
I nod thinking that would probably be best. 
We work together carrying the rowboat out of the garage.  He takes off his sandals and walks it out a little ways.  He passes me the rope and I grasp it while standing on the dock.  I'm not sure what to do with it but he climbs up next to me.  He takes the rope and walks the boat further out.  He ties it off skillfully with a clove hitch knot, I think. 
"Let's load it up," he says and walks back to the house. 
I follow.  I get a bag of dry food, the sunblock, and a sweatshirt for me because it's chilly this morning.  I come down to see him loading up the cooler in the boat. 
"Come with me," he says. 
I walk alongside him as we head to the garage.  He gets out two fishing poles, some sort of basket, a toolbox—I think for fishing tackle, and a net. 
"Let's get you a life preserver, just in case," he mumbles.  He grabs one from a pile and puts it on for me. 
I thank him and start carrying some of the supplies over while he handles the poles and the rest.  He steps in the boat first and loads some things up.  He takes the gear in my hands and then reaches for my hand.  I take his offer of help, lacing my fingers with his.  He pulls me in and I step much more gracefully than the last time.  I don't fall onto his lap this time and step over to sit on the bench across from him.  When I'm situated, he unties the boat and begins to row us out with the oars.  He moves swiftly.  I enjoy the view as we head out—the water, the trees, the fluffy clouds in the sky, the birds... Eric exerting himself.  I honestly can't stop glancing at him as he rows.  I offer to take a turn but he declines it saying he's fine.  It does look somewhat effortless from him though, but the flex of his muscles says otherwise.  He is incredibly strong and fit. 
He continues to row us out into deeper water in the pond.  We go around a bend and I see a tall rocky cliff.  It's magnificent... so picturesque here.  He stops us in an area that's still shaded from the tree line.  This is really nice.  Eric sets the oars down and puts out an anchor.  I smile watching him.  He gets his fishing pole ready and baits the hook with a grasshopper.  I wince as he does so.  The poor thing is still kicking with the hook through it.  He takes the other and puts a worm on it for me.  I'm not as grossed out with that.  He shows me how to cast my fishing line out.  I watch him do his.  Just like with knife throwing, I observe him a few times, then I practice without releasing.  I finally send it out.  It's not bad, but I reel it in and try again doing much better. 
"Just like throwing knives," he teases grinning. 
"That's what I was thinking," I laugh lightly. 
We sit and wait, talking quietly for a while.  After a moment of silence, I decide to broach the subject. 
"I was wondering..." I say hesitantly. 
"What's that, Stiff?" he asks playfully. 
"Can I ask you a serious question?" I inquire gently. 
"Of course," he responds softly. 
Just as I open my mouth, I see a tug on his line.  Shoot.  The moment is gone. 
"Hold that thought," he tells me. 
I observe as he reels the fish in.  It's fighting him a bit, moving from side to side.  When the line is slack, he takes that moment to reel again.  I watch as they fight back and forth a few times before the fish flaps up above the surface once.  I sit up in surprise.  It looks enormous.  He reels it in a bit more and scoops it up with his net. 
He's laughing and smiling. 
"That's a big fish," I comment.  I hadn't realized they were so large. 
"It's not bad for a first of the year," he tells me grinning. 
I study his movements as he holds the fish and removes the hook.  He reaches for that basket of his and puts the enormous fish inside.  He hooks the basket to the boat and tosses it over the side of the boat into the water. 
"Well... that was exciting," he mentions. 
I smile and nod.  I observe as he grabs another grasshopper—a bigger one this time—and hooks it on.  He casts out much quicker and I realize the last time was purely for demonstration—for my sake. 
I smile at him when he meets my eyes. 
"So... what did you want to ask me?" he questions. 
"What do you do with the fish?" I inquire... chickening out from my previous question. 
"I eat them," he tells me easily. 
A beat passes between us. 
"What serious questions do you have for me?" he asks. 
I bite my lip in nervousness.  He knows that wasn't it. 
"I don't mind," he tells me.  "If it's serious, it's probably best that you ask me out here."
"Why's that?" I question. 
"No cameras," he replies easily. 
"There are cameras here?" I inquire.  I know about the Amity ones and the surveillance.  I've seen it flash a few times in the control room to the campground when I was there. 
"I'm almost positive Jeanine has some sort of listening devices or possibly cameras there," he nods.  "She's never told me but I'm fairly certain that's how she used to keep an eye on my sister and me—the same with our residence."
I frown at that.  She would know I'm here, then. 
"It's alright.  I don't tell her everything.  Truth be told we don't see eye to eye on most things," he divulges. 
I meet his eyes and he's serious. 
"I'm honestly here because she's frustrated me to the point of me needing two weeks away from her.  I've just said in my voicemail that I'm taking a leave of absence with no explanation.  Nobody else wants to deal with her besides me," he explains. 
I'm assuming he means he's the only Dauntless leader with the patience to converse with her... because he's always had to.  They're family. 
"Can I ask what the problem is between you and her? ...or Dauntless and her?" I ask gently. 
He sighs and looks away from me. 
"Well... the exact reason is confidential... but she's wanting Dauntless to agree to some things that we don't want to be a part of.  She's mostly just bickering with me to press her position to the others," he admits. 
"She wants you to be the go between or the devil's advocate," I deduce. 
"This is between us," he clarifies.  I nod meeting his eyes.  "She does."
"How do you feel about that?" I question. 
"I don't want anything to do with her," he admits. 
I smile sadly at him.  "Why don't you blow her off then?" I suggest. 
"I can't," he shrugs.  "She uses coercion."
I frown at that. 
"I just... try to placate her with whatever I can," he elaborates.
I nod and determine now is my best chance. 
"During initiation, the Erudite transfers mentioned that all Erudite ever talked about is the Divergent," I mention. 
He nods, "Yeah, that's what she's pushing."
"What?" I question. 
"Their study," he replies meeting my eyes. 
"Everyone here... thinks it's like an urban myth," I mention.  "Lynn thinks they're like vampires or witches or something."
He laughs lightly at that. 
"No," he shakes his head. 
"What do you think about them?" I inquire. 
"What do you mean?" he questions. 
"Do you believe they exist?" I ask. 
"They do," he nods. 
"What do you know about them?" I continue. 
"I only know what I've learned in Erudite," he mentions.  "What Jeanine has told me."
I nod. 
"She says they think differently than loyal citizens," he sighs.  "She says they're a threat to the faction system."
"Do you think that?" I ask softly. 
"I don't know what to think," he tells me. 
"She wants Dauntless to help her, doesn't she?" I question.  "To help her find them."
"She does," he nods. 
I think on this for a moment.  She's driving him crazy—so much so that he's taking a break from her, not his job. 
"Is your problem with her... possibly dealing with this?" I ask.
His eyes snap to mine.  He bites his lip before he nods. 
"Why?" I question. 
"I don't know," he sighs.  "It just feels... wrong—off somehow."
"Yeah," I say softly. 
"Why is this subject weighing on you so much?  Do they talk about them a lot in Abnegation?" he inquires. 
"Not a word.  I'd never heard about them before recently," I explain. 
"Really?" he questions surprised. 
"No.  Never," I meet his eyes and shake my head. 
He looks away and seems... confused. 
"Your parents are leaders, though, right?" he questions. 
"Abnegation don't gossip, really," I shrug.  "I recall my father coming home upset from a newspaper article before—one about Marcus Eaton.  But... I truly believe he didn't think Marcus was cruel to his son.  I... I don't believe he knows."
"Is the article about your parents true?" he asks me. 
"No," I shake my head.  "I think Molly was trying to get even with me for the fight.  Plus, I think Erudite was looking for something like that.  I don't think they cared whether it was true or not."
"What makes you say that?" he questions. 
"Christina was there at the time.  I was out zip lining with the Dauntless-born.  She said Molly was lying and to ask me but the reporters went with Molly's story anyway," I explain. 
He sighs and sits back.  "That's messed up," he says seriously pausing.  "What kind of punishments did you get growing up?"
"A scolding," I shrug.  "Sent to bed without supper once.  I was being a brat, though."
"I've never seen that," he teases rolling his eyes. 
"Yeah, I've never seen you cranky either," I joke nudging his knee with mine. 
He chuckles not denying it. 
It grows silent between us once more.  It's nice.  I feel like I have a better understanding of him... but I really don't know where I stand with him—especially if he were to find out. 
"Why are you so concerned about the Divergent?" he asks me. 
My eyes immediately snap to him.  He appears nonchalant but I can tell he's nervous about my answer. 
"I don't believe they're a threat," I tell him softly. 
"How so?" he questions. 
"It's difficult to explain," I frown. 
"How are they not a threat, Tris?" he asks me gently. 
I sigh and meet his eyes.  He staring at me and I think he knows. 
"Am I a threat?" I whisper. 
He frowns, too.  He sits back and looks away from me. There's silence between us once more and I wonder if I just made a mistake.
There's a pull on my line grasping my attention. I wonder if I'm imagining it. I reel the line in a little and there's another tug.
"Did you get a bite, Stiff?" Eric asks.
"I think so," I reply.
I continue reeling it in. It feels like it fights me now much more than Eric's did. I see it surface and I laugh in surprise. This is fun. I continue playing tug of war with the fish until it's right outside the boat.
"Do you want me to use the net?" Eric offers.
"Alright," I nod.
I'm grinning ear to ear when he pulls it up. He takes the hook out for me.
"I think we need a picture to commemorate this moment," he says.
He has me hold the squirming fish. I get a good grasp of it and he wipes his hands off before getting his phone out and taking a picture.
He pockets his phone and puts the fish in the basket.
"I think yours is double the size of mine," he comments. He's smiling, though.
"Are you not threatened?" I question.
"Nah," he shakes his head. "I'll catch more."
"So confident," I tease.
"I totally am," he nods.
I chuckle in response. And just like that... things were back to normal between us—maybe better than normal. He looks at me and actually smiles. I haven't seen many of those. Perhaps Jeanine driving him crazy and Four irritating me at the same time were for a reason. Maybe God wanted us to meet here, and talk. Perhaps this was meant to be...