Harrison calls me down to the computer room right when I get back to my apartment. Said there was a computer that crashed, and he can't start it up again.
I sit down at the computer in front of the black screen. He watches as I type in a few commands. Nothing. I try again, and still nothing. The reaction is the same for several tries- I've wasted two hours here already- until my finger slips while doing another command. The screen lights up, and I look up at Harrison.
"Well, that did it." He shrugs. I nod in agreement.
"Looks like it needed a mistake to get it." I mutter. I type in a few codes to unlock it before pushing back from the computer and standing up.
"Thanks for getting it, Four."
I shrug. "No problem. That's my job, right?"
He nods some. "But right now you're an instructor."
"It's no big deal." I wave it off. "Not like I have to grade them or anything. See you later, Harrison."
"Later, Four."
I walk out and down towards the Pit. The height is dizzying, but like always, I ignore my fear. The glass is bulletproof and has held up over a hundred Dauntless at once. I think I'm good. So instead I think about how the Dauntless-borns and transfers will be ranked at the end of initiation.
It isn't until I'm not too far from the Chasm that I hear the scream.
I run for where I heard it come from and see Peter, Al, and Drew. There's a girl on the ground, her eyes blindfolded, and she has long blonde hair and light skin. Tris. Al runs away the second he sees me- coward- and I knock Drew to the ground. He's unconscious, but I kick him a few times just to make sure.
I turn and see Peter holding Tris by her neck over the Chasm. She tries to kick him, but her legs aren't long enough. They hit empty air. I kick Peter in the side- hard- and he lets out a shout as he hits the ground. I pick him up by his shirt and hit him several times. Drew gets up to help him, but I grab his arm and twist it backwards. He falls to the ground and lays there, screaming in agony.
I kick and punch Peter until he's on the ground, unconsious. He falls on top of Drew, which would actually be quite funny if they hadn't just tried to murder another initiate.
I hurry over to Tris, anger still clouding my better judgement. I should take her to the infirmary, but I can't. She blinks a few times, trying to stay away. "Four," she gasps. She closes her eyes, and I wrap my arms around her and pull her over to the safe side of the railing. I ease an arm under her knees- my God, she weighs almost nothing- and start to carry her to my apartment. I need to make sure that she's okay.
She presses her face into my shoulder, and after a few minutes of walking she's unconscious.
/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\
I return to the Chasm to find Peter gone and Drew lying on the ground, unconscious and bleeding. Unsure of what else to do, I throw him over my shoulder and bring him to the infirmary. Drew mutters something incoherent, something about just trying to scare her. I don't buy it.
"My goodness! What the hell happened to him?" Natalia, a nurse, asks in astonishment.
I shake my head, playing the bewildered instructor card. "I don't know. I think him and another initiate got into a fight. I just found him on the ground."
She nods, and someone brings out a gurney. "We'll have the doctor check on him. But my God, this kid picked a fight with the wrong person."
I nod in agreement. "That he did."
/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\
I return to my apartment to see Tris still unconscious. I decide to work on my own injuries before I start on hers.
Unsure of what else to do, I had laid her on my bed and covered her up. It was strange, seeing her in my bed. I shake my head at my thoughts and walk into the bathroom. I don't have any injuries, really. Just that the right corner of my mouth is cut and I've broken open the skin on my knuckles- again. But everyone knows that I always do my fear landscape- that could be my cover story.
I turn on the warm water and run my hands under it, the sting not even bothering me. The water is red, then pink, and then clear. I examine my cuts for a few seconds. They're just shallow cuts-they'll be scabs by tomorrow night. I dry off my hands with a towel and flip off the bathroom light.
I grab an ice pack from the refrigerator and turn around, wanting to give Tris as little of a headache when she wakes up as possible. When I turn, my eyes meet a pair of blue-gray ones, and I try to cover my relief.
"Your hands," she croaks, her voice cracking. Her throat is probably dry.
"My hands are none of your concern," I reply, resting my knee on the mattress and leaning over her. I slip the ice pack under her head and start to pull away, my heart thudding painfully in my chest. I hope she can't see that my hands are shaking.
She reaches her hand out, her fingers hovering near my face. She then gently brushes her fingertips against the cut on my mouth, and all of my focus goes to where she's touching me. "Tris," I say, trying to focus. "I'm all right." I insist.
"Why were you there?" Curious, even now. Her hand drops.
"I was coming back from the control room. I heard a scream." I don't tell her how I knew it was hers, or how afraid I was that I would be too late, that she would be dead.
"What did you do to them?" She doesn't seem afraid of me, not like most girls would be in this position. She's hoping that I beat them to bloody pulps, that they didn't get away without some physical pain.
"I deposited Drew at the infirmary a half hour ago. Peter and Al ran." After I kicked the shit out of Peter. "Drew claimed that they were just trying to scare you. At least, I think that's what he was trying to say."
"He's in bad shape?" I think it might be rhetorical. Surely she knows how I fight by now.
"He'll live." I reply. "In what condition, I can't say." I add bitterly.
She grabs my wrist and squeezes it a little. Her eyes brighten, glad even though she knows it's wrong. "Good." Her voice sounds fierce.
I know that she wants to hit something or do something violent- I know because I usually have the same urge when I'm angry- but instead, she cries. I crouch by the side of the bed and watch her. She looks pretty, even when she cries. Well, not pretty- not exactly. Tris is not pretty. Maybe beautiful, some guys might call her hot, but I do not believe in calling a girl things like that.
I feel no sympathy for her, though, even though I know that I should. Tris does not need sympathy. That is not who she is, and I know that she would not look at me with a lot of respect if I did. I don't say anything, don't pay attention to what I'm doing.
I pull my wrist free of her grip and rest my hand on the side of her face, my thumb lightly brushing her cheekbone. This feels natural, as if I've always been doing it, and it scares me a little. How can I never have a girlfriend, never even consider one, and then all of a sudden be able to be with this girl and touch her like this and have it be natural? It's just not possible.
"I could report this." I tell her, but I already know her answer.
"No." She replies firmly. "I don't want them to think I'm scared."
I nod, moving my thumb absentmindly over her cheekbone. I keep my eyes on it. Her skin is smooth, clear, unlike most girls' her age. "I figured you would say that." I could live in this moment forever. I wish that this doesn't have to end. But like everything good for me, it will. I know it will.
"You think it would be a bad idea if I sat up?"
"I'll help you."
I grip her shoulder with one hand and hold her head steady with the other as she pushes herself up. Her hair falls around my hand. She bites her lip, trying not to let out a pained noise.
I hand her the ice pack. "You can let yourself be in pain. It's just me here."
She bites harder on her lip. I ignore the tears on her face, knowing that they don't matter. "I suggest you rely on your transfer friends to protect you from now on."
"I thought I was," she says. She lets out a sob and rocks slowly back and forth. I want to comfort her, but I can't. I have never been comforted, so I don't know how to do it. "But Al..."
"He wanted you to be them small, quiet girl from Abnegation," I say softly. "He hurt you because your strength made him feel weak. No other reason." I hate Al for that. How can he like her and then hurt her? Looking at her now, I know that I could never cause her pain, whether she made me feel weak or not. Just by being here now she makes me feel weak, and yet at the same time she makes me feel stronger. It's strange- it's like she's finally given me a purpose, something that I never had before.
She nods, but it's obvious that she doesn't believe me. "The others won't be as jealous if you show some vulnerability. Even if it isn't real."
"You think I have to pretend to be vulnerable?" She raises an eyebrow as if to say you've got to be kidding me.
"Yes, I do." I take the ice pack from her hand hold it against her head myself. She puts her hand down, relaxing her arm and too thankful to object.
I stand up, and her eyes are on the hem of my shirt. My skin feels warm. "You're going to want to march into breakfast tomorrow and show your attackers that they had no effect on you, but you want to let that bruise on your cheek show, and keep your head down."
"I don't think I can do that," She says, her voice hollow. She raises her eyes to meet mine, a haunted look in them. It makes me want to hurt whoever put it there.
"You have to."
"I don't think you get it." Tris's voice is suddenly sharp. Her cheeks flush, making the bruise look darker. "They touched me."
My body tightens and stills. My hand clenches around the ice pack. It takes a minute for the words to make sense, and when they do, my blood runs cold. Several pictures flash through my mind, none of them pleasant or very appropriate. "Touched you." I repeat. I have never wanted to kill someone like I do now.
"Not...in the way that you're thinking." She clears her throat, blushing. "But...almost."
She looks away, and I keep my eyes on her. Maybe they didn't touch her there, but I have a pretty good idea of where they touched her, and I want to murder them for it.
I must have been silent for too long. "What is it?"
"I don't want to say this," I say, and I don't, "but I feel like I have to. It is more important for you to be safe than right, for the time being. Understand?"
She nods.
"But please, when you see an opportunity..." I press my hand to her cheek and tilt her head up so that she has no choice but to look at me. "Ruin them."
She lets out a nervous laugh. "You're a little scary, Four."
I shouldn't do this; this is wrong.
I do it anyway. "Do me a favor, and don't call me that."
She's confused- confusing her must be my talent. "What should I call you, then?"
I take my hand from her face. "Nothing, yet."