Chapter 8: Handled

 She sat on the edge of Eric’s bed and watched him pull a first aid kit from under the bathroom sink.

“Let’s see your arm,” he made his way to her, kit in hand. He knelt down at her feet, taking her by the wrist to more closely examine the long scratch down her forearm. He stood again, and retrieved a towel from under the sink, before kneeling back down. He unrolled the towel, holding it just below her arm before flipping open the first aid kit. He pulled a long brown bottle from the kit, and flipped open its lid.

The liquid stung as it trickled across the red scratch, turning it white with a bubbly fizz. Eric set the bottle down, then pulled a gauze patch from the kit, ripping open its packaging in his teeth. Setting the patch aside, he pulled a small round container from the kit. He checked to make sure her arm was no longer dripping before setting the towel aside. Eric unscrewed the lid from the circular container, to reveal a brown oily paste. He selected a flat wooden stick from the kit, and used it to scoop out some of the paste, and smear it across Treya’s arm.

She watched him, her eyes intent on what he was doing. He glanced up at her before picking the patch up and covering the paste-covered scratch with it. “Old Amity remedy. Keeps out infection and promotes skin healing.”

“Amity?”

Eric pulled a rolled bandage from the kit and slowly wrapped it around her arm to keep the patch in place. “Medicine originated from Amity fields. They used the plants to heal. Erudite later used them as the foundation to create the medicine we have now.” He fastened the bandage in place before gathering up the trash and towel, throwing the trash in the bin in the bathroom, and the towel in a hamper in the closet. “How’s that feel?” He nodded to her arm.

She looked down and examined his handiwork, “better. Thank you,” her voice was quiet as she thought about Amity and Erudite. It was weird to think of them working together, but it made sense.

Eric nodded, “why don’t you get some rest.”

Treya glanced up at him, then to the bed she was sitting on, “I’m fine.”

“Rest. Your body needs to heal.”

Treya swallowed hard, “I’m not kicking you out of your own bed.”

Eric huffed in light amusement, as if the thought of her actually forcing him to sleep elsewhere was amusing. He was still stronger than her. “Just rest initiate, it’s not my bedtime yet.” He turned and flicked the lights off on his way out of the room, leaving the door open only a crack. 

Treya had no intention of actually sleeping, but his bed was comfortable and she soon found herself curled up and drifting into sleep.

——

It was dark when she woke, save the light peeking through the cracked door.

At some point, Eric had come in and taken her boots off and covered her with a soft gray blanket. 

Treya wondered what time it was. How long had she been asleep? Had Eric fallen asleep on the couch? Should she go back to the initiate barracks?

There was a hushed mumble of voices somewhere on the other side of the door. She could identify Eric’s voice immediately, but the other was harder to place.

“I’m still working on her eating habits, but she’s improving. She’s not completely skin and bones anymore,” Eric mumbled.

“So say your reports.” The voice was female.

“She’s still on top of her class, she’s thriving in combat skills. She shows leadership in groups and has even helped improve other initiates.”

“Eric,” the voice cut him off, “I’m not here to discuss the initiate subject.”

Subject? Treya strained to hear, still trying to place the familiar voice.

“Max said you were having pain again.”

“No,” Eric’s voice was firm, annoyed even. “I’m not having pain again. The pain never went away.”

The two were quiet for a moment.

“Max seems concerned.”

“Why,” Eric cut her off. “Pain is nothing I can’t handle.”

“I want to run a few tests.”

“No.” He cut her off again, “I’m done with tests and exams and paperwork and results that never do anything. I handle it.”

“You are not the only one with lasting effects after having the serum. All three of you need more testing and observation.”

A form of blue and blonde passed the crack in the door, and it finally clicked in Treya’s brain. Jeanine. 

“Stop by my office tomorrow, otherwise continue working with the initiate subject. You’ve done great work, and I expect to see more in phase two. She’s doing just as well as we hoped.”

The two moved farther away, and Treya couldn’t make out Eric’s response. The door to the apartment clicked open, and then shut again.

——

Treya finally emerged from the bedroom when she smelled food, hours later. 

There was a blanket, tossed carelessly on the couch, and Treya realized Eric never came to bed last night. He must have slept on the couch.

Eric was at the stove, and something was sizzling in the pan he was hovering over.

Quietly, she made her way to the counter and perched herself on the stool. She watched him, taking advantage of the fact that he seemed unaware she was there.

He was shirtless again, and the skin across his back was smooth and tight as his muscles flexed as he worked. He was relaxed, and Treya noticed how natural he seemed in the kitchen. She followed his spine, from where it touched his hairline, down between his moving shoulder blades, curving inward at the small of his back, then sneaking between the slow pinch of his hip bones, and dipping under the band of his sweatpants. 

He reached for the refrigerator, catching a glimpse of her out of the corner of his eye, and glanced back at her a second time, as if surprised to find her there.

He pulled a carton of white liquid from the fridge, and set it on the counter next to him; his back still to her. “See something you like, initiate?”

Treya didn’t respond, but her eyes darted away from him, and her cheeks flushed momentarily. She was glad his back was turned, and she focused on the far door, next to the bedroom, until she felt the heat fade from her face.

He slid a plate in front of her, and her eyes darted to it, still not wanting to look at him.

There was a circular red colored meat, and a fluffy yellow pile of something Treya had only learned was a kind of egg, since coming to Dauntless.

“Breakfast.”

Treya just stared at the plate.

“You don’t usually eat breakfast, do you?” Eric wasn’t surprised. She was usually in the training room before him in the mornings, and the mess hall wasn’t open that early. Dauntless were usually night owls, and not early risers. 

“Eat. Your body needs fuel to heal.” He picked up the carton next to her, and filled a glass halfway with the white liquid before setting it next to the plate.

Treya huffed, “you act like I’m dying. It’s just a scrape.” She looked down at her bandaged arm.

He slid around the counter, and perched himself on the stool next to her, unnecessarily close. “I’m not concerned about your arm.” His eyes never left hers, but she knew where his mind was. 

She shifted uncomfortably, putting more distance between the two of them. 

“You’ve been through a lot of trauma, and your body still isn’t healed from it all.” 

She pulled the plate a bit closer, debating whether she should eat to appease him or not. “Permanent damage doesn’t heal, Eric,” she mumbled.

He sighed, “your body is awkwardly compensating.”

She shot him a glare.

He returned the look, “I see you limping by the end of practice. I see you protecting your left shoulder during fights, and I see how you walk through Dauntless.”

Her brow furrowed at the last statement.

“Pressed to the left side because you can’t see,” he almost sounded annoyed. “Not to mention I can feel your hip grinding and your shoulder popping every time we spar.”

Her jaw clenched and she picked up the fork before stabbing at the fluffy yellow pile. Out of the corner of her eye, she saw him smirk.

He let her eat in silence, and excused himself to the shower. 

When she had finished eating, she scraped the remaining food into the trash can below the sink, and then scrubbed her plate clean. 

She wandered over to his bookshelves again, admiring his collection. Factionless could only dream of having such personal belongings. Everything belonged to everyone there.

She glanced towards the bedroom door. She could still hear the water running. Her eyes shifted over. The other door was closed, and she had never seen it open. Eric had never invited her into that room. Curiosity egged her on. 

The door was unlocked, and she quietly slipped in. Her hand slid across the wall until she found a light switch, and the light above her flicked on.

Treya had once assumed it was a bathroom, but when she had used the one in Eric’s room, she assumed this must be a spare bedroom. But why would he have not slept in here last night?

Her eyes darted to the right side of the room. There was a small couch, seemingly untouched, pressed against the far right wall, and perpendicular to a desk. The desk was stark white, with a thin silver computer, laying in the center, its top closed. Next to it sat a file folder.

Treya took a step closer. This must be Eric’s home office. Her eyes fell to the folder, and her brow furrowed. Her name was printed on the folder.

Treya could rationalize initiates having files, possibly containing information on their training progress. But why would her’s be here, in Eric’s apartment? There were no other initiate files on his desk. Just her’s. 

Without thinking, her fingers found the edge of the folder and she flipped it open. Her vitals were on the first page; her age and birth date, her height and weight, her muscle mass, even her hair and eye color. She flipped the page. The second page was heavy with ink, and a quick skim told Treya it was a detailed report of her life with her father and brother. The third page detailed her involvement in the factionless uprising and riots. The fourth page was more interesting.

Subject shows high promise: quick learner, fast reflexes, lacks fear of fighting. 

She skimmed further.

Subject contains high muscle mass but low overall weight. Subject refuses most food. 

Subject lacks socialization. Subject keeps personal boundaries, not typical of factionless.

She huffed in annoyance.

Subject’s willingness to conform to faction standards is questionable.

Her brow furrowed. Lacks socialization? What was she, an animal? These were reports; weekly reports on her progress and behaviors. The reports weren’t addressed to anyone specifically, but they were all signed by Eric. Why were such detailed reports being kept on her?

Likelihood of Conformity: 50%

What, they wanted her to conform to Dauntless? Sure, just like they wanted all the initiates to conform. The only difference between her and the others was that she didn’t come from another faction. Is that why only her file was here?

In the back of her mind, she always knew there must be some secret reason a factionless was allowed to test and initiate into the factions. Four’s reasoning of it being unfair that factionless children are assigned a damned fate, however true it was, never seemed like a good enough reason for Jeanine and her followers. 

The reality, Treya knew, was that the factionless intimidated most factioned members of society. They were strong, and had proven their strength during the uprising. 

But then Evelyn was convinced to step down. It wasn’t so bad at first. Evelyn had convinced her son and the others that a factioned society wasn’t a good one. For a while, they agreed. Slowly people fell back into their old habits, and the factions were reestablished. 

Treya wondered if this whole thing was just a ruse, intended solely to better control the factionless. And she was just a pawn. 

What did Treya want? Did she want to be part of Dauntless? She kind of did. But the factions were so corrupt, and she knew she would never agree with them. But it felt good to feel like she belonged somewhere, and that someone wanted her there. She shook her head, trying to clear the thoughts away.

“Light reading?”

Treya’s attention snapped up to Eric, who was leaning against the doorframe, arms crossed over his chest. The black shirt and pants were hardly noticed as Treya had become so used to the Dauntless fashion and everyone was wearing pretty much the exact same thing. His hair was slicked back in its usual fashion, and his eyes, though dark and hard, were not angry.

She flipped the file closed, ignoring his question, and made her way to him. When she tried to sidestep past him, he moved in front of her and blocked her path. She glanced up at him, almost surprised to find a hint of curiosity flash across his face.

“Was it at least a good read,” his voice was almost mocking.

Treya’s eyes hardened, “yeah, real page turner.”

He huffed in amusement, but didn’t move. “Do you typically go through other people’s stuff?”

She took a step back, her body tensing in annoyance, “I’m sorry, kind of confusing since it has my name on it.” 

“You have no business even being in this room,” he growled, defensive of her tone.

She shot him a glare, “guess it’s the factionless in me. No personal boundaries and all.” She shoved herself against his shoulder and past him, unsure if she caught him off guard or he let her past.

“Every initiate has a file,” he sighed as he watched her putz around for a moment, clearly trying to figure out what to do with herself.

“Yeah but their records aren’t in your little personal office, are they?” It was rhetorical. She knew they weren’t here. 

Eric straightened, “I’m your instructor, it’s my job to have your file on hand.”

Treya’s eyes widened, but not in fear or surprise. It was anger that filled them. She had wanted so badly to believe that this whole thing was really forged in good intentions, but it wasn’t. She was being closely monitored for conformity because someone wanted to control her. 

In large strides, she was in Eric’s face, and he seemed surprised by her abrupt charge. Her eyes were wide, hard with a dangerous anger, “Yeah, but why me? Huh,” she snapped. “Why am I the special one?”

“You’re more adva-“

“I’m not your little pet,” she spat, cutting him off. “I don’t give a shit what my rank is. I was sought out before anyone knew I would add up to anything.”

He was quiet. His eyes were hard and glaring. 

“You want conformity? You want me to conform to your little Dauntless army, and fall into rank and file?” She huffed, “you Dauntless are all the same; too stupid to think for yourself.”

She turned, and stormed out of Eric’s apartment, wondering if he flinched as the door slammed behind her.

——

The cool breeze almost stung as it hit Treya’s face. Her short hair whipped about her head each time a gust blew. Nights were getting colder as winter was slowly creeping in. She was used to being cold. She was used to huddling with fellow factionless, as close to a small fire as feasibly possible. But now she was alone, and she hugged her knees to her chest as she sat on the edge of the rooftop. 

She had debated about tracking down a group of factionless, just to be around someone who was like her, but she knew her Dauntless training uniform would make them leery. Perhaps they weren’t so much like her. Not anymore.

So she had found a deserted building, or at least, the dilapidated shell of what was once a building. The solitude suited her, it seemed. Her eyes scanned the crumbling distant buildings, the tall Merciless Mart of Candor, the Hub, and the glowing Erudite headquarters, just beyond. Her eyes lowered, somewhere down lower, blocked from view by the taller buildings surrounding it, was the train station; a place Treya was more familiar with than anywhere else.

Directly below her, over the crumbling edge of the rooftop she was sitting on, were more empty and abandoned buildings. It was hard to believe that at one point, the city was vibrant and alive, without crumbling skyscrapers and boarded up windows and darkness. To imagine every building, pristine and packed with busy people was almost unthinkable. The city had been a wasteland for years. 

Treya’s mind drifted back to the file. It irked her that she was being used, but she couldn’t deny how the reports were right. 

She remembered her fight against the Dauntless man Gregory. He was bigger, stronger, and had more Dauntless training than her. She ended the fight with a move that her trainers hadn’t taught her; one she learned as a factionless. She remembered how Four looked at her disapprovingly on the first day of training, when she blocked him quickly and with force, instead of slowly to demonstrate to others. She remembered how annoyed he was when she had knocked out a couple of Stephen’s teeth. She certainly wasn’t afraid of a fight, and definitely caught on quickly.

She remembered Four’s remark about how little she had on her plate. She remembered all the times Eric gave her his apple at lunch, and how many times he cooked meals for her, to ensure that she ate. It’s true she was thinner than the others, but she was all muscle. It wasn’t her fault Dauntless food sucked.

She was never really close to anyone. Edgar and Evelyn were the only two among the factionless that she trusted wholeheartedly. It wasn’t that she wasn’t social. She just didn’t trust anyone. Why bother getting close to someone if you don’t trust them? Realistically, everyone has personal boundaries, some just have farther boundaries than others. Since factionless had to share literally everything they had with one another to survive, it wasn’t uncommon for faction-lovers to think they didn’t understand personal space. 

It was true, Treya didn’t want to conform and become the mindless meathead soldier that was the Dauntless members. Secretly she was uncomfortable with the fact that the likelihood of her conforming was so high. She would rather prove that the factions were wrong, that they were only as good as their negative traits. For so long, Evelyn and the other factionless had lived with these beliefs, and were prepared to prove them. Treya was still prepared. 

There was a time, before she was naive enough to believe that society could change, that Evelyn would have used Treya to infiltrate into Dauntless and take control from within the faction. It would be the smart thing to do, but once again Evelyn was naive and believed her son’s excuse. Probably because it hurt her too bad to believe he had negative intentions.

Treya couldn’t be blind like Evelyn. The factions were wrong. They were weak. They were unfair. If Evelyn couldn’t put her faith in her son aside and see the cold reality of what was going on, Treya would have to. Evelyn always counted on Treya to make decisions and take action when she couldn’t. This was no different. Treya could easily infiltrate into Dauntless; she was already halfway there. And if Jeanine’s promise was true, once Treya was successfully part of Dauntless, other factionless could infiltrate too. 

The factionless had lost the battle, but the war was still waging on.

——

Eric was tense with annoyance. Jeanine had been poking him and sticking electrodes on him to run whatever tests she seemed to need. If there was anything concerning about his results, she never alluded to it. 

He peeled off the last electrode from his chest when she asked “the pain you’re having, is it a throbbing pain? Or more sharp?”

“Sharp. Sometimes it feels like I’m being shot all over again.”

Jeanine nodded, noting his response on her tablet. “You said it’s constant.”

Eric sighed. “It’s usually a duller pain that is easy to ignore.”

“And when you can’t?”

Eric glared at Jeanine, “I handle it.”

Again she tapped her finger on her tablet. 

“The others feel it too?”

Jeanine didn’t look up, “Yes.” After a moment she glanced up at him, realizing he wanted more information. “It is not surprising that you’re still having pain. Even the divergent is having pain.”

“Yeah well, it’s a little more than inconvenient,” he grumbled.

Jeanine straightened defensively. “It’s a new serum, and therefore new science. We are exploring the side effects as quickly as possible.”

He huffed, “you mean you don’t have it all worked out yet? I’m surprised Jeanine, you’re usually more prepared.”

Her jaw clenched slightly, but she otherwise remained unmoved. “If you’d have done your job as a Dauntless soldier, the divergent and her little friends wouldn’t have managed to dismantle our friends at the Bureau and destroy all their records of the serum.”

The two glared at each other momentarily, before Jeanine added, “I want you to let me know if the pain comes back.”

Eric huffed.

“When you can’t ignore it.”

He rolled his eyes and grabbed his shirt before standing and pulling it over his head. 

“Eric,” when he paused to look at her she cautioned, “the sixth faction serum is the most powerful we have seen. Do not hesitate to inform me of any changes.”

Eric tugged his shirt down over his stomach and grabbed his jacket. He hated being her lab rat, but there were only three possible people she could use, and he was her favorite. She despised Tris Prior, the divergent who, Eric felt, was to blame for the crumbling factions and factionless uprisings. He didn’t care much for her either. She was a short fuse, impulsive, and Eric felt that she thought of herself better than non-divergents. 

The only other option was Tori, and she wasn’t so reliable after her brother refused to come back to the city when the factions reformed. She was quiet and colder, and when she wasn’t working in the tattoo parlor, she was in her apartment, drinking. 

Eric was Jeanine’s logical choice out of the three. He had been the first to receive the serum; one that was meant for a sixth faction, and called the “survival serum” because of its powerful effects on those near death or very recently deceased. The Bureau, an establishment beyond the city walls, who were the reason for the city’s isolation and complete existence, had been feeding Jeanine information that was vital to the growth of Erudite and key to keeping the city orderly. The Bureau was responsible for the vast majority of Jeanine’s all-knowing knowledge, and had given her an early version of the survival serum for her to experiment with and perfect. 

Jeanine was right. Tris and her band of misfits had completely destroyed the Bureau and their records, and Jeanine never received vital information on the survival serum. All Jeanine knew was that it could quickly reverse death because of its extreme healing properties, and that it was meant to be a serum for a sixth faction, now known as the factionless. 

Eric tugged his jacket on, and slipped out of Jeanine’s lab with a furrowed brow and completely lost in thought. The pain in his head was growing.

——

Treya had avoided the Dauntless compound all day. She had snuck out early in the morning, and found herself piddling around abandoned parts of the city, thinking of herself as a Dauntless, as a factionless, and as a spy. Factionless would always hate the factions, and they would always hate Dauntless more than any other. If she could get the Dauntless to trust her, she could gather more intel and feed it to Evelyn. Maybe it would help Evelyn snap back to her senses as their leader. 

It was dark now. Night had crept up slowly, and Treya wandered in the shadows until the moon was high in the sky. The others should be asleep by now. 

She made her way back to the compound, and down into its quiet depths. It was dark, and quiet other than the faint rushing water that echoed through the stone halls. The barracks were quiet too, and the others never stirred when she slid out of her uniform and into a loose shirt. Treya curled up on her bed and it wasn’t long before sleep caught her.

Her sleep was restless, and her dreams transported her to times she wished she could forget; a time of hands on her, grabbing her, holding her down, touching her. A time when sinister whispers filled her ears, and humiliating snickers echoed through her. It seemed so close, so real. Treya wanted to fall away from it, to fade out of existence and dissipate into thin air. Instead, she fell into reality, and her brain jolted awake. But the nightmare was still there.

Hands held her to the bed, and covered her mouth so tightly she thought she would suffocate. There was a weight on her hips, and as her eyes adjusted into wakeful clarity, Michael’s sneering face filled her view, a glistening sharp knife in hand, as he straddled her.

“Well well well,” he hissed, his voice just above a whisper. “You’re a little far from the chasm, where I last put you.” His smile widened as Treya struggled against Nick and an older Dauntless boy, who each pinned her arms to the bed. Stephen pressed his hand over her mouth even harder, and she struggled to breathe. 

“Brian here isn’t too happy you sent his brother into the chasm,” Michael snickered.

“You killed my brother,” it was almost as much of a question as it was rage, as if he didn’t know it was Treya who sent him over. His huge fist slammed into the side of her head, and a white hot pain shot through her skull. 

Her eyes widened. She was trapped, unable to scream for help or wiggle free of them. 

Brian was ready to continue his assault, but Michael stopped him with a flash of his knife. “Let’s show Brian why we shouldn’t give you the same fate, Stitch.” He slid the knife under Treya’s shirt, and up to her neck. The worn fabric easily ripped open against the blade, and fell to reveal her bare body.

The boys snickered quietly,  and Michael lightly slid the tip of the knife across Treya’s bare chest.

“What the hell?” Brian almost pulled away in disgust and Treya couldn’t tell if he was disgusted by Michael’s actions, or her bare body.

“Ain’t she just a freakish little factionless whore?” Michael hissed, “always have been, haven’t you?”

Treya thrashed, trying to break free. She braced her feet on the bed and tried to buck her hips to knock Michael off of her. 

“Stupid bitch!” Stephen let go of her mouth only to slam his fist into the side of her jaw as she gasped for air. “Hold still!” 

The others laughed as Stephen slapped her across the face repeatedly, and Michael’s hands fondled her chest. 

“Hey!” 

Treya recognized Eric’s voice, but her head hurt too much to fight back. She barely opened her eyes in time to see Eric’s massive form slam into Michael, and knock him off of her.

The others were jolting awake with the commotion, and it was enough of a distraction that Treya was able to rip her arm free from Nick, and jam her fingers into the soft center of Brian’s throat in one swift motion. 

Brian’s breath caught in his throat and he released her other arm. As soon as he let go to grab his own throat, Treya reached for the sides of Stephen’s head, and brought him down on her knee. Nick backed away from Treya before she could grab him, and the pain in her head prevented her from pursuing him further.

Treya covered her chest with her arms and rolled to one side, spitting blood on the floor, watching Eric pummel Michael.

The others were awake now, watching in horror. Stephen and Nick had vanished, knowing trouble was coming their way. Brian was pulling on Eric, “get off of him man!”

Eric finally let go. He stood over the bloody Michael, his eyes murderous, his chest heaving as he tried to catch his breath. All eyes were on him. He spat on Michael, who was almost unrecognizable under all the blood. Eric glanced around the room, “well since you’re all awake so early, why don’t you get down to the training room? Don’t think that just because you passed you don’t have a long way to go,” he growled.

The others quickly started to get dressed and hurry out of the barracks.

Eric grabbed Brian by the sleeve, “get this one to the infirmary. And don’t think for a second that I won’t take this to your superior.” He shoved Brian away, and watched momentarily while Brian peeled Michael off the floor.

Treya had sat up, and was attempting to pull her trunk from under her bed, when Eric walked over to her.

“Stay,” he demanded softly, grabbing hold of her trunk and pulled it from under the bed. He pulled out a black shirt and her training pants. He pushed her trunk back under the bed, and held her shirt over her head to help her.

She glanced around the room, seeing them alone as the last initiate scurried out of the room, she glanced up at Eric, uncomfortable about being so bare in front of him.

“You forget I’ve seen you,” his voice was hushed and gentle.

“Not like this,” her own voice came out in almost a squeak as the pain in her head fired through her skull. 

He sighed and turned his head, letting her pull the shirt over her body. He then slid the pants over each foot, and helped her stand.

Her body wobbled, as her head started to spin. She balanced herself with her hands on his shoulders until he slid the pants to her hips and held her steady. 

“You need to go to the infirmary,” her eyes were closed so she couldn’t see the concern in his, but she could hear it in his voice. 

“I’m not going there.”

He knew she didn’t want to be around Michael, and she didn’t want to seem weak, but her head had taken quite a beating. “Can you walk?”

“I’m not going.”

“Can you walk,” his voice was stern.

Treya sighed, took a small step and wobbled, her head still spinning. 

“Come here,” Eric mumbled before scooping her into his arms, and carried her out of the barracks.

“Practice,” she mumbled, pressing her head to his shoulder in hopes that it would stop spinning.

“Quit,” he grumbled, “you’re not going.”

Chapter 9: Coming Soon

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