A/N This story is for Dardarbinx101 since it was her dream that inspired it. I'm happy I got to use my very expensive degree for this one a little bit.

This is an AU Eris, if you're not into that kind of thing that's OK there's plenty of Canon compliant Fourtris and some of its great.

I don't own Divergent. I will try my best to keep them in character whenever possible.

Also there's a line I stole from Girl Interrupted because let's face it that movie's amazing.

Tris' outfits are on polyvore.

I'm sitting in the back of the over air conditioned lecture hall dreading today's lesson. Abnormal psychology was not my first choice in classes, but I need a psychology elective and the only other class that fit into my schedule was human sexuality and there was absolutely no chance I was taking that.

It is halfway through the semester and according to the syllabus we are scheduled to start phobias today. I pull my sweatshirt sleeves down over my hands and take the string from my hood between my teeth. The professor for this class is usually always early, I'm starting to wonder if I missed a cancelation email when finally a few other students filter into the room and take their seats. I look down at my phone screen to check the time this class is scheduled to start at 4:15 and it's 4:25. I slide my finger across the screen and open my emails, nothing about a cancelation, I text my best friend Christina telling her that I may be available to shop with her earlier than expected. Just as I receive her response the gorgeous T.A. I've been secretly drooling over all semester walks into the room sliding his messenger bag across the table and walking in front of the class.

"Sorry about that everyone," he starts. His voice is clear and deep, he has never really spoken during lecture. I've only heard him speak in low volume private conversations in passing, now his voice is clear and it carries even back to my isolated back row seat. He appears to be at home in front of the room not nervous or uncomfortable, confident in himself, "Doctor Matthews is unfortunately ill today so you'll be stuck with me for the week."

"Eric," a brunette in the front row interrupts with a hand in the air, and her nasal voice even more annoying than it usually is when she interrupts our regular professor at least three times a class.

"Yes Molly?" He answers his tone even, and with only a barely detectable flash of disinterest, as he turns to her.

"No offense, but if this information is going to be on the exam I would rather wait for Doctor Matthews to get back to learn it from someone who's not still learning the information himself," Molly's face looks as though she thinks there's nothing insulting in what she's just said. The look on everyone else's face tells a different story.

"Well Molly. Seeing as Doctor Matthews has no intentions of teaching this lesson again when she returns your options are to leave now and try to teach yourself about phobias and their treatment, or you can stay here, keep your mouth shut, and learn the material from someone who's received a four point zero average consistently in every class Doctor Matthews has taught, and is currently defending his doctoral dissertation on phobias and the use of desensitization therapy to alleviate anxiety." Across the class is a low murmur of 'holy shit', and 'I didn't know that.'

Molly closes her mouth and drops her eyes to the notebook in front of her. She's accepted defeat and Eric goes on to tell the class, "I understand that I'm young and most of you know me as the guy who answers pointless clerical questions and grades your exams, but I can assure you I've taken and passed this course, I have watched Doctor Matthews teach it an additional six times since I took it the first time, and I have taught it on two prior occasions. I understand and can clearly convey all of the information just as Doctor Matthews would. If there's anyone who doesn't feel comfortable with me teaching this section,by all means, feel free to email Doctor Matthews and explain that; however be warned she does not take well to having her judgement questioned."

You can hear a pin drop in the room when he is finished. He searches everyone's face but he must not see hesitation in anyone else's eyes because he continues, "good now that we have that out of the way please open your text books to page two hundred and fifty six." The rustle of paper fills the room but seeing as my book is already open I just watch the T.A. pull out his copy of the book and open it on the table.

The lecture hall messes with visual perception and seeing as I am several rows up and he is standing below me it's hard to tell how tall he is, but I have seen him round campus and he is definitely a good five or six inches taller than my average, five foot seven, frame. He's got sandy blonde hair cropped tight to his scalp at the sides but longer at the top and styled into a faux hawk. He's definitely young maybe only two or three years older than me, and he is incredibly broad shouldered and muscular. If I had never heard him speak, or seen the comments he writes on out papers to spark thought and discussion, I would have thought he was the stereotype 'dumb jock'. His skin is pale, but not sickly so, and I remember noticing in passing that his eyes were an odd shade of grey that changed depending on the day.

"Ms. Prior?" His voice cuts into my thoughts and and I shake my head to rid myself of the distracting thoughts.

"I'm sorry," I mumble as I cover my deeply red cheeks with my hidden hands and soft black sweatshirt before I continue, "I didn't hear the question."

"Focus Ms. Prior, Doctor Matthews' absence isn't an excuse to slack off. I asked if you could, please, give me the key component to the definition of the term Phobia."

I read this last night, "It is irrational. The person suffering from the phobia has no explainable logical reason for their fear or anxiety, they may even tell you that they know it makes no sense; however the fear and anxiety persist."

He nods his approval and says, "that's right. There is no logical reason for the often debilitating fear and anxiety attached to the sufferers trigger, but it is still a very real fear that will not be ignored."

Eric goes on defining several of the more common phobias and when he's done he asks if there are any questions. I've always wondered if my fear was one that anyone else had. I can't ask directly, it's much too embarrassing, but maybe I can get there without saying it out loud. I raise my hand and when Eric turns to me and says, "Tris?" I feel the sweat start to coat my palms. I drop my hands and run them across my thighs hoping the material of my leggings will hide the moisture. I swallow hard and notice that Eric is watching me. I spit out my question just to make him stop watching my hands, "what if someone is afraid of a base human need?"

"That's a really good question." Eric pulls himself up to sit on the table and crosses his ankles before running his nails quickly over the five o'clock shadow on his jawline. "When we're afraid of things like heights, spiders, or deep water avoidance is easy. While it's certainly not alleviating the fear we can avoid the symptoms and therefore act as though the fear doesn't exist without ever truly overcoming it. When someone is afraid of something unavoidable, food, clothing, water, or physical contact," the sweat socks my hands again and I pull my hair into a ponytail just to dry them off, "it's much harder to avoid these things and stay a healthy well balanced person. So it's important that these fears are faced and overcome." He pulls the text book towards him and turns a few pages, "if you turn to page two sixty you'll see the treatment courses for phobias."

I turn the page but I'm so embarrassed by my body's reaction to even the mention of physical contact that I can't focus entirely. I can hear my heart racing in my chest and my ears begin to ring. I am vaguely aware of Eric's voice at the front of the room but I keep my eyes trained on my text book pretending to be engrossed in the words I can't actually see through the fog of tears threatening to fall. I'm having an anxiety attack, a mild one but still scary. I try to focus on the book in front of me the font becoming clearer as I slowly breathe in through my nose and hold my breath before releasing it just as slowly.

I'm trying to do this as quietly as possible and thankfully I've taken a seat far enough away from anyone else that it appears my freak out has gone unnoticed. Until I look up and the lecture hall is nearly empty except for me, and Eric who is standing two rows down in front of me leaning against the seat behind him with his bag slung across his chest and his arms crossed. I look at him and I can feel the heat coloring my cheeks. "Don't worry. There's always one." He tells me.

I start to gather my book and my notebook twisting my hair into a bun and shoving my pen through to hold it up, all the while avoiding the eyes of my too attractive, and now too close for comfort, Teaching Assistant. "I'm just not feeling well today." I tell him.

"Tris I have a Masters Degree in applied counseling psychology. I may not be a doctor but I think I can recognize a mild panic attack when I see one." He says before pulling his bag off and dropping it on the desk in front of me. "You kept it together pretty well I'm sure no one else noticed," He assures me when he sees my eyes widen in embarrassment.

"I'm sorry." I say standing up.

"For what? It's not like you can help it. Like I said there's always at least one student with a real phobia that happens to get mentioned. You actually held it together better than anyone I've seen so far. There's always a ton of people who insist they have a phobia of snakes or spiders but when you ask about it more in depth it's all just over dramatized. Real phobias cause what happened to you, only it usually results in someone on the floor or screaming bloody murder."

"Is that supposed to make me feel better?" I ask him with a bit too much bite to my voice.

He laughs and looks down at his shoes. I've never been this close to him for this long. Eric is an extremely attractive man and I'm just noticing the black ink of a tattoo peeking out of the collar of his light blue button up shirt. My mind wanders and I find myself wondering what it would taste like to kiss them. His forearms are exposed now that he's rolled his sleeves up and he's got tattoos there as well. His black slacks fit him well and I see how his leg muscles tighten as he shifts his weight. His hands are resting on either side of his legs on the back of the chair he's leaning on and I have to close my eyes to push the tension from my throat so I can swallow.

"Stop thinking about whatever it is." I hear him say closer than I expected. I gasp when I open my eyes and realize he's moved from his previous position and is now standing only a few feet away from me. I can smell his cologne and there's the faint hint of peppermint gum, I have to stop breathing through my nose because as the tightness in my abdomen grows the more light headed I feel. "Sorry. You were starting to panic again. I'm assuming you were remembering whatever triggered you during the lesson."

"Something like that," I mumble before saying, "I should go my roommate and I have plans." I try to get past him without bumping into him.

"Wait." He says as his fingers catch my elbow. He doesn't leave them there but the contact is enough to send a rush of fear up my spine. I'm not afraid of being touched, per say, I'm actually afraid of sex and all things sexual in nature. While I know my T.A. Isn't grabbing my elbow because he wants to have sex with me, I've just been thinking about what his legs look like in his slacks and what his tattoo might taste like, and just his scent and proximity was enough to send me into another wave of fear, so the contact is startling. My reaction must be obvious because he apologizes before looking at me curiously.

"Tris, I don't want to pry but, as I said before, my doctoral thesis is all about phobias." I nod and he continues, "I'm really interested in people's fears and the ways they overcome them. Would you tell me what your fear is, and how you manage to keep your panic attacks so minimal?"

"I'd really rather not. I'm sorry Mr. Coulter," calling him Eric in that moment feels too close and I need to distance him. "It's just more personal than I'm comfortable discussing."

He nods before saying, "I'm sorry, I didn't mean to make you uncomfortable. Have fun with your roommate."

"Thanks." Is all I manage to say before leaving the classroom and breathing deeply when I'm finally outside in the fresh air.

XOXOXOXOXO

"You need to get over this silly fear, and quick." Christina chastises me over dinner. We have an off campus apartment but the dining hall is still much cheaper than eating at restaurants every night, and less hassle than grocery shopping and cooking. "Look I get it, what happened with Al freshman year was weird and I'm sure embarrassing but you can't let that ruin sex for you forever."

I flinch at her candor and say, "I can't think about Al today please. The last thing I need is a mental replay of that night." The truth is I don't like to think about Al, or freshman year, ever.

"Fair enough, let's talk more about Mr. Hot T.A.'s neck tattoo then." She laughs, "so how much did you see? What is it? How far up did it come? Do you think it's like a full chest or back piece?" Her eyes are wide and she's obviously in love with the idea of my tattooed teacher.

"He's my teacher Chris, I was trying NOT to look at it." I explain.

Christina rolls her eyes and says, "he's not your teacher. He's a student just like you. He's barely older than us." She reminds me. "Let's see if Mr. Hotness has a LinkedIn." She says pulling out her phone. "There he is! I told you so, he's only three years older than us, he graduated high school the same year as Tobias." I groan at the mention of Tobias' name. I dated him after Al and he has somehow managed to stay friends with all of my friends. Our relationship is another casualty of my phobia, and while he's moved on to another girl and I'm happy for him, it still makes me hate myself for this fear even more. "Sorry," Christina realizes she's hit a nerve, "but seriously it's not like he's your dad's age."

"What's the point. Even if there was a snowball's chance in hell that he were interested, which is unlikely, I'd just freak out when he tried to do anything other than kiss me anyway." I shake my head and ask for a change of subject as I stab at my uneaten grilled chicken.

Christina's rattling on about her fashion design final and I'm trying to listen when movement by the door catches my attention. I lift my eyes to see the exact person I just told Christina five minutes ago I didn't want to think about.

Al was one of the first friends I made in college, after Christina, and we spent most of freshman year inseparable. That is until one night just before the end of the last semester we were all at a party and Al and I started to make out. It felt amazing to kiss someone I trusted so much, until he shifted my weight back onto the bed and started to crawl over me running his hands up my legs. At that moment I had my first ever panic attack which resulted in me hysterical crying, throwing up on him, and him needing to explain to his RA why there was a frantic girl in his room so late at night.

"Tris!" I'm pulled from the horrible memory by Christina's worried voice and I realize that panic has set in my shirt collar is soaked and my throat is dry. I try desperately to shake it off but my fingers and toes are tingling and realize that seeing Al after a day spent thinking of my fear has pushed me over the edge.

All I can manage to say is , "Al."

Christina's head spins around and Al realizes he's been spotted. He starts to make his way towards Christina and I saying my name, in that pleading pathetic way he's adopted over the last three years every time he sees me, and I feel the room begin to spin. Christina is on her feet and pulling me towards the door. When we get into the hallway I can't go very far before I need the support of the wall. I slide down and before I can stop them the tears start to run from my eyes and my entire body starts to tremble as if it's below zero in the hallway. I keep my eyes trained on the linoleum floor tiles and their uneven seams as Christina squats next to me and rubs my back.

"Is everything ok?" A too familiar voice says.

I hear Christina start to say, "Fuc... Oh Mr. Coulter I'm sorry she's just uh." She stumbles to recover from almost telling a T.A. to fuck off and is trying decide what to say. When I feel her hand leave my back I look up.

"She's just having another panic attack." He says to Christina a little rougher than is really necessary.

I don't appreciate him speaking to her like that and I start to stand up to tell him so, "back off Eric she's helping me." I'm on my feet again and while I'm not entirely steady enough to push off the wall I'm not freaking out anymore.

"I'm sorry." He says to Christina, " can you give Tris and I a minute?"

Christina shoots him a look as if to say 'yeah right,' but I put my hand on her shoulder. "It's ok Chris, I'll meet you at the door in five minutes." Christina looks Eric over almost menacingly before she squeezes my shoulder and walks away turning around half way down the hall to give him one last warning look. "Don't mind her she's a little over protective when I have these moments." I try to laugh it off as I drag my sleeves over my cheeks to dry them.

"Do these 'moments' happen often?" He asks.

"Don't do that." He looks at me as if he's going to ask what I'm talking about so I go on. "Don't try to analyze the situation like that."

"I'm just trying to figure out why one second you were having dinner with your friend and a second later you were shaking like a leaf and completely unresponsive until you needed to be dragged out of the room to collapse in private." He says leaning on the wall next to me at a safe distance. I inwardly thank him for not getting too close to me in this moment. "Anything to do with that lumbering weird kid that tried to follow you out here?"

"He tried to come out here?" I ask.

"His friend told him to 'let it got, she had her chance' whatever that means. "

"I don't want to talk about it." I snap.

"Clearly," he drawls, "does he have anything to do with why you're afraid to be touched by men."

"Don't pretend to know me." I bite out as I push myself off the wall.

"Just a trained observer. Your smart mouthed friend can touch you with no problem, when I touched your elbow after class you looked as if I'd burned you, and you asked about fear of base human needs. It doesn't take a genius to add the factors." He explains.

"I'm not afraid to be touched by men." I say because it's true. He lifts an eyebrow in challenge,and as I look at him closer I see that he's got two small open holes above his right eyebrow. "Is your eyebrow pierced?" I ask.

"Don't change the subject," he chastises.

"I'm not afraid to be touched. I'm afraid to be touched in a certain way." I feel the blood rush to my cheeks at just the thought of saying 'sexually'.

"Because of the doofy looking idiot inside."

"No, I just learned about it with him." I admit.

"I didn't exactly touch you in any specific way," he says clearly confused.

"It's complicated," I mumble.

"It's called Genophobia." Eric says in his clinical voice.

I roll my eyes before I say, "I don't really care what it's called." I pull my shirt sleeves down and cross my arms over my chest.

"It's in your text book. It's not entirely uncommon in women your age." He's lecturing.

"I have to go meet Christina. Thanks for the diag-nonsense." I feel guilty for snapping at him, but I really don't need confirmation of how fucked up I actually am.

Im thinking there's another four parts to this story. Desensitization therapy is generally three phases with the last phase taking a long time. So I thought it might work out as a five chapters after I added diagnosis and the conclusion. I hope you all like it, dardarbinx101 especially. Leave a review let me know how I did!

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