EDIT: NEW READERS! Please notice that this is chapter EIGHT, I condensed the first 1-7 chapters into the "first" chapter on this site. I'll come back when I have time to put them into separate chapters again at some point, but for new readers, just be aware that this is further along into the story and is -not- in fact chapter 2.

A/N: Also, hello again my dearest followers! Thank you for following the story and for your continued support! I am very, very sorry for the long hiatus. I've been overloaded with a side project that barely gives me time to sleep. Now that it's getting off the ground, I can devote time to writing again.

This chapter, I wanted to give Carmeric more time to actually get to know each other. Let me know what you think?

Love, Beau

I try to visit Ben in the infirmary but he refuses to talk to me.

Once he's out, things don't change even when he's sitting with Marla, Gabe, and I for lunch. He'll talk to the others, but never to me. It makes for some awkward meals. I'll try to ask him questions while the conversation's going and he ignores them. And still I try. I don't really like to spend my time like this, but it's something Clarise would have done out of the goodness of her heart so I force myself to do it.

When Gabe and Marla go up to get dessert during dinner, I reluctantly try again.

"Ben, I know things don't make sense," I whisper. "I'm different now and I'm sorry about what happened."

"It's funny." He remarks, and his voice instantly catches my ear. "The only way I can get your attention is if I ignore you and treat you like you aren't worth my time. Is that what Eric did?"

I remain silent and he goes back to staring at his hand, frowning.

"All through training, I helped you," he continues. "I've taken a bullet and now a knife for you. But now that you've become Dauntless and used me to be able to stay above the line during initiation, I'm no use to you anymore."

I frown. A bullet too? When did that happen? Then it strikes me that I really don't know anything that happened with my sister the moment she donned the black uniform.

I try to assuage the guilt I feel, "I'm really sorry for how I've—"

But he won't listen. "Forget it. I see how you really are, Clar."

Then Ben's gone, leaving behind his finished meal. It's always empty save for a fruit cup that he leaves at the edge of his tray. Beneath a circle of plastic there's bits of pear and peaches and an occasional cherry. He never eats it, but he never fails to take it from the selection and prop a plastic spoon on the top. Then I remember. They're Clarise's favorite snack at home.

He probably always gave her his and continued the tradition when I came in her place, hoping she'd remember him.

I sigh and empty his tray along with mine in the trash. The tugging in my heart shouldn't mean much since she'll probably never see him again if we run away. But I wish he didn't have to think of her like this. He's not seeing her. He's seeing me.

And how much a better person my sister really is.

Days pass and Eric doesn't disrupt my sleep. The first few nights, I lay in bed, dreading the sound of his boots clumping to my frame, but they don't come. Instead, I close my eyes and the next time they open, it's to lights that flare in the barracks accompanying the wake up call. I stretch into the sky and yawn with the others. Rested, undisturbed.

And that's when I begin to notice Eric's absence between the terse conversations with Ben at meals. The tattooed leader doesn't show up for breakfast or lunch -which isn't too odd- but his absence at dinner is noted after the third day. There's rumors that he's sick or missing or even dead.

I wonder, almost hopefully, if he's gone and fallen into a ditch somewhere and can't move because all his bones are broken. The thought makes me smile.

It's later in the afternoon on the fourth day that I get wind that he's back, and unfortunately unscathed from wherever he came from. With the threat of Clarise's death looming over my head, I find myself at his door once everyone is asleep.

I can't believe I'm actually doing this.

My hand is curled in a small fist, held an inch from his door and it hangs there because I can't bring myself to knock. I barely restrain slamming my head against it because of the hatred I have for myself and the situation.

Fuck this.

But think of Clarise, my mind begs.

I don't need to do this to save her. I can sneak in some other way.

That's enough convincing for me. The relief from giving up lowers my guard; I walk straight into Eric just as I turn around to leave.

He catches me with one hand, fingers gripping my side steady before releasing me. The first thing I notice is that he's exhausted: the rims of his eyes are darker, purpled from lack of rest, and a scruff has grown on his chin without a razor to tame it. Wherever he disappeared off to, sleep wasn't part of the journey.

His blue eyes, bloodshot, widen then narrow when they recognize me. And frankly, he's surprised to see me there. I don't make it unknown how much I hate him if me flipping him off at every opportunity was any clue. If he wasn't in the practice of locking his door every time he slept, he probably did now because of me.

From the smell that rose from him when I hit his shoulder, I know he's been up at his smoking spot for a while and probably tossed back a shot or two.

He allows himself to look amused. "Miss me?"

I smile. "Eat a dick." I mean to move past him but he catches my shoulder first.

"Come on." He says, and his tone is strangely casual as if we're good friends. I suspect he's already begun his trip to intoxication. "Have a drink with me."

My eyes fall to the bottle in his fist that I hadn't noticed before. It's more than half full with an amber liquid and I wonder where he got it from. It's definitely not the stuff that Marla nicks from the kitchens.

"I'm not in the mood," I say, forgoing the second part: I'd rather drink acid.

He blinks, thoughtfully. Then he tilts his head and the grip on my shoulder tightens painfully. "It's not a request."

Then I'm back inside his room, with both a feeling of resentment and victory that I could possibly get what Father needs. Eric closes the door and I quickly scan the top of his desk and cabinet. My eyes find luck on the former: a blue Manilla envelope is bound with string there and sits, half open, under the lamp.

The color so loudly shouts Erudite. I wonder if he's really this stupid for leaving it out where anyone can see.

I'm pushed to the small side table where he pulls a chair for me. "Sit."

He takes a seat as I stare at him suspiciously.

"You were playing a game of truth or dare the first night I truly suspected you." He pours two neat shots into glasses before us. Already I know there's too much in a glass for me to handle. "Let's play again."

That's fine. I can truth the whole night and lie through my teeth the whole time until he's so drunk he can't tell the difference.

He seems to read my mind." But this time, every choice comes with a shot. Dare is a single, truth is a double."

"I don't drink."

"You can't leave until you do," he says.

"You first." He shoves a shot at me. It skids to my chest and I catch it before it tips over. "Truth or dare?"

"Truth."

He motions for me to drink. The brown liquid swirling at the bottom doesn't seem so bad now that I tip it back and forth, but the smell coming off it is overpowering. But it can't be worse than what he's been making me swallow lately.

The quicker this is over, the better. I hold my breath and pour the whole thing in my mouth.

It burns on contact. The liquor seems to sear going down my throat and I cough, fighting to rid the sensation the whole way. I hear Eric laughing in the background as he sets a glass of water next to me.

He lets me finish the water before talking.

"Why are you here?" He rights my glass and refills it. "As in you, and not your sister."

I down the second one and wonder why on earth anyone would willingly do this. The taste is terrible.

"She couldn't make it back here. And I needed to leave." My memory flashes back to being strapped down to the chair. "It was an awful place."

I swallow and feel wary of the warmth in my stomach. "Truth or dare?"

"Dare," he answers. I really didn't expect differently.

"I dare you to go jump in the chasm."

He doesn't blink. "Well, you're not fun at all." Eric downs his shot and then a second. I see them work their way down his throat, the lump there twitching. "Truth, then."

"Where were you the past few days?"

I expect him to lie, but he doesn't. "I was at Erudite. That's where I was a transfer from."

"Do you have family still there?"

The look he gives me is his answer, but he points at the shot. "That's another question. Wait your turn."

"Truth," I say and Eric sighs. I dread what he's prepared for a dare.

After the first two shots, I know what to expect now and so I brace myself and bear it. It still burns as it goes down, leaving that dry and acrid aftertaste at the back of my throat but I manage to keep the face-making to a minimum.

"Why are you here tonight?"

"I don't know," I lie. "I'd rather not be."

"You're a shitty liar."

"Thanks," I say, beginning to slur. "As you can see from my being Candor, we don't practice that much."

"You're Dauntless now," he corrects me.

"Clarise chose Dauntless, not me."

"Why take her place at all then?"

"Your turn," I press.

"I guess any place away from your despicable father is a sanctuary."

My face flushes red as a giveaway. "Your turn."

"You left your sister to fend for herself then?"

"I didn't." But the accusation in his eyes sparks a fire in me. The possibility that he could think I would just abandon her out of a selfish want to leave...it makes me think about every time I've had to go on my knees, every insult my father threw at me to will me to obedience. I bare my teeth at him, "I did this to protect her!"

Eric pauses to take this in. What I said doesn't give that much away that I worry he'll understand what's going on. Yet, the smirk he gives me means he just received another small piece of the puzzle.

"If it makes you feel better, I went back to Erudite to protect someone too." He stares at his glass for a long while, before finally saying, "Dare."

He takes his shot and the liquor wets his bottom lip. I look at it for a second too long.

"Kiss me again." After the words come out of my mouth, I instantly regret them. Who the hell is talking right now?

The smirk on his face falls and I wouldn't be surprised if he decides to kick me out right now. I'm okay with that. I'd probably sleep out in the hall because I don't trust myself to be able to simultaneously handle balancing and walking at the same time.

And there's the bonus of Eric looking like a dick for leaving girls to sleep outside his door.

"I need to leave," I say, my eyes finding the door.

To my disbelief, Eric says, "Okay."

I brace to push myself out of the chair but he sees me struggling just getting up. He helps me to my feet until I'm standing, laughing to himself, and I reach out so I don't stumble.

My hands find his shoulders but no matter what I do, the grip feels unsteady. "I'm glad you find rendering me stupid hilarious."

"Unbelievable. Drunk after four shots already." He shakes his head. "I should have drank alone."

This stuff is strong. Yet Eric, who happened to drink more before he even saw me, is stronger. It's not fair. What did he expect?

His arms are strong enough to carry me back but I don't think he'll do that. And it's a strange feeling: wanting him to get out of my face while simultaneously also wanting him to hold me closer. The low light in his room dulls the piercing blue of his eyes and for once, they don't make me feel uneasy.

"You should," I sigh. "I don't drink. If you actually listened to—"

The force of his lips pressing against mine cuts off my words. And my thoughts. This isn't the tentative kiss that he gave me before, when it had been a surprise for both of us. No, this one aches of an unaddressed want, where his lips are trying to drink in everything they can and his hands want to know me.

I break off to take a breath but he's back, pressing against me harder than before. A feeling builds in my chest and while I know I should stop him, I don't.

I'm forced back onto the table and hear the clatter of the bottle and glasses bouncing on wood. His body pushes between my knees and his mouth works over my neck, eliciting a whimper from me.

Everything feels good; from the fingers tangling at the base of my scalp to the heat building between our bodies that's hot enough to melt our clothes. His hand begins to slip under my shirt but I panic, stopping him.

The sensation is overwhelming even with the alcohol dulling my thoughts. Somehow I manage, "I can't, Eric."

"Can't what?" He asks, tensing. His tone is from someone who is not used to being denied anything.

"I can't do this. Right now."

The alcohol is doing something funny to me: my thoughts are blurring and I have the sudden urge to lie down somewhere and close my eyes.

His eyes search mine, trying to find a weakness but I stare back at him with as much defiance as I can manage. He steps back reluctantly. "Alright."

The next thing I know, I'm being lifted. Only he's not heading to the door like I originally thought but towards his bed. He dumps me onto his sheets and I roll, marveling at how soft they are.

The light snaps off and his arms find me in the darkness.

"Sleep." He pulls me against him and I'm suddenly afraid to move.

Somewhere in the shadows, the folder waits for me. I instruct myself to wake up earlier than him so the opportunity doesn't pass. The hour passes slowly as I stare into the darkness and his breathing deepens, ever slower, until he's asleep. Never did I wake up this morning to think I'd end up in Eric's bed in such an innocent way.

It's there that I fall into the most confused sleep I've ever had, with Eric's body wrapped around mine and his breath warming the back of my neck.

A/N: Well, this was different...What do my readers think? If you like what you read: **comment/review/follow**! :D Thanks alot and stay tuned.
xxoo Beau