Chapter 5: Past

 She was on his mind all night. 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

——

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Treya panted, her body still tense.

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

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

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

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

Eric’s eyebrows raised in surprise at her request.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“What else,” he mumbled into her ear.

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

“You don’t like a show off?”

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

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

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

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

Eric released the initiates for an early lunch. 

“How’s the shoulder?”

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

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

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

“It’s fine,” Treya growled.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

——

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

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

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

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

“Have a seat.”

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

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

Treya didn’t respond, but watched him curiously.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Eric straightened himself, still watching her curiously.

“Why?”

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

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

Eric was quiet, his brow slightly furrowed, curiously.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

He took a deep breath, mauling over her words.

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

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

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

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

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

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

Treya didn’t respond.

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

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

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

Treya nodded. 

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

——

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

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

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

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

“A lot of work in that,” Eric noted.

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

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

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

Eric furrowed his brow.

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

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

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

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

“Too advanced huh? Dauntless born?”

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

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

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

“Mm,” Eric mumbled, bored.

“And she’s that good huh?”

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

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

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

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

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

“You tapping that?”

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

“Are you?”

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

Isaac shrugged, and Tori started the gun again.

“Why does everyone assume I fuck initiates?”

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

“And what’s that supposed to mean?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

——

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

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

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

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

Warm water reminded her of Edgar.

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

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

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

She gave him a dark glare.

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

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

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

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

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

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