Hey guys! I got a couple of requests for writing a few chapters of my story, The Return, from Tobias' POV, and as I hadn't switched POVs for all fourteen chapters yet, I thought that putting it up in a new story will be okay. This won't make too much sense if you haven't read The Return, so I suggest you check that out first.

I'm not yet sure whether to make this a collection of FourTris oneshots from The Return, or a continuous story... We'll see. Meanwhile, enjoy.

Disclaimer:Don't own Divergent or Tobias (aw man, how I wish I did) and also any dialogue you recognize.

This chapter spans the first half of chapter 3 of The Return.

Chapter 1: The First Jumper

The crowd assembled at the net is as loud as ever. The sea of black appears darker in the diffused light from the hole. I wonder what it is like for these people to assemble here every year — looking at the sun's rays falling on the large net outstretched on the wooden platform. This is my second year doing this, standing here clad in black like everyone else instead of the baggy gray clothes. The light falling on the net gives it a strange look in the darkness, as if it is a divine platform for fallen angels to land. I laugh to myself at the strange analogy. Since when did I start thinking of scrawny initiates as fallen angels?

There is a lot of chatter everywhere. I can hear people placing bets — regarding the number of initiates we will have this year, or which faction the first jumper will be from. The Dauntless are competitive folk. Not to mention that the chocolate cake is a favourite thing for anyone to wager on.

"Ready for the transfers this year?" Lauren says, shifting over to stand by my side.

"More so than last time," I reply, allowing her an upward twitch of the corner of my lips. I was a rookie last year, although Max had said I was doing just fine; this time I have a much better idea about how to best put the initiates through their paces. Although I wonder how much of my way I'll actually have... there's Eric to interfere, of course.

"Can't say I envy you." Lauren grins. "Dauntless-borns are so much easier to train. At least they aren't so damn clueless."

I have no answer to that. When I opted for initiation instructor, Lauren and I were the candidates, and her being a Dauntless-born and me a transfer, our assigned responsibilities were obvious. But at least I understand the insecurities of a transfer — been there, done that.

"They should be jumping off the train by now," Lauren says, checking her watch. "Bet you a big piece of cake that the first jumper will be a Dauntless-born."

"I'm not taking you up on that," I reply with a half-smile. "I am not ready to sacrifice my chocolate cake for something you have every chance of winning. Plus, I don't bet."

"You're no fun, Four," she laughs, shaking her head. "Loosen up for once."

She hardly manages to get the words out of her mouth when we hear a faint scream from high above, growing louder by the second. A hush falls over the Dauntless, everyone straightening up to get a better look at whoever has decided to be the bravest. I walk a few steps forward so that I am right up front, standing by the platform where the net stretches a foot or so above me.

It occurs to me then, even as the scream becomes close and loud, that this is not a cry of terror. Through all these years, I have heard screams, all types of them, enough to be able to analyze the emotions that are behind them. I have heard my mother's scream of pain, Marcus' ones of rage, my own, a combination of both as I faced him. I have heard the Dauntless members' rowdy cries, and the transfers' screams of terror. But this, which I hear, is not fear. It's exhilaration, as if the person falling is enjoying every second of it. That's pretty much unheard of, even with Dauntless-borns. I remember the way Zeke stumbled when he tried of jump off, making a fool of himself, and stifle a laugh. My head lifts on its own accord, curious to see the individual as the second feels far too long.

I watch as she falls, and I find my eyes widening in surprise. Of all types of people I had expected to make their appearance, this was not it. She is small, almost fragile in her build, her blonde hair splayed out like a halo as she lands on the net. She is covered in a gray shirt and trousers. Abnegation. The first jumper is from Abnegation.

The expectant silence gives way to murmurs as everyone crowds around to give a hand to the first jumper. I can hear the surprise and disbelief in their voices — at the fact that a Stiff not only transfered to Dauntless, but also jumped first. I find myself being jostled around, and walk as far ahead as I can, strangely detached from the chaos. My eyes refuse to move from her.

She sits up on the net, covering her face with her hands, and laughs. Yes, she freaking laughs. I am reminded of my own jump, two years ago — I was the last one to jump, and I nearly wet my pants. Admittedly, I am afraid of heights. She definitely is not, because I see the laughter lingering in her eyes as she crawls over to the edge of the net, and her face reflects an expression of utter relief and ease, like she just came home, instead of jumping off a seven storied building to an unfamiliar faction. She reaches out to the outstretched hands, but stumbles at the last moment, beginning a fall which would land her face first on the ground. My arms automatically reach out, grabbing her and holding her steady.

She is rather plain in her appearance, her blonde hair framing her small face, and a rather long, prominent nose. She is more than a head shorter than me; it is difficult to believe that she is actually sixteen. She looks so young. There is a vague familiarity about her, but that is no surprise; we must have met at some point of time in Abnegation. Her eyes are a striking shade of blue-gray, piercing, demanding. I hold her arms for what I think is a moment, but it seems to stretch around us. She isn't shy. She looks me straight in the eye, holding me with her penetrating gaze. Then I let go of her, stepping back. She blushes, looking away from me. Okay, maybe I was wrong about her not being shy.

"Thank you," she murmurs, her voice soft.

"Can't believe it," I hear Lauren say behind me. "A Stiff, the first to jump? Unheard of."

I turn to look at her; she is right, of course. But this girl must not be like the rest of them if she left. I wonder what her reason was. It can't be like me, she doesn't look like she did it out of desperation. She did it because she wanted to. The sparkle in her eyes say so, whatever the reason behind that desire might be.

"There's a reason why she left them, Lauren," I say aloud. There is always a reason behind a transfer's choice, because they are leaving their families and the familiarity of their homes to do it. And when it is Abnegation, the reason is all the more strong, because the Abnegation, despite all their talk of selflessness, do not forgive and forget.

"What's your name?" I ask the new girl. She stops short, something shifting in her eyes, some of the earlier joy draining out of them.

"I —" she begins haltingly.

"Think about it," I say, feeling a faint smile on my lips. "You don't get to pick again." She must feel uncomfortable with her name, especially as the Abnegation choose all goody-goody and pious names for their children, which is so different from Dauntless. Or maybe she wants to hide her true name, like me.

She smiles at me. "Tris," she says.

Tris. Nice name.

"Tris," Lauren repeats, grinning. "Make the announcement, Four."

Obliging, I look over my shoulder at the sea of curious faces, and call, "First jumper—Tris!"

The crowd cheers, and I grin at their jubilation. The Dauntless are strange, tough people, but they can make you feel wanted. Once you prove yourself, this place can be an amazing home. But it will never be for me; I am not brave, I am not worthy of being called a Dauntless. Without thought, I find myself shifting closer to the girl, Tris. Our eyes lock, and I see how her lips part, just a little, as she looks at me. I would have wondered what the emotion behind this reaction might be, but at the moment, strangely, I am not thinking at all.

But then the screams of another girl accompany her down, and as the crowd starts cheering again, the strange moment is broken. Surprising myself, I find my hand pressing against her back as I give her a little push. Did I just imagine it, or did she shiver?

I look at her, taking in once again her wide eyes, and somehow find myself compelled to say, "Welcome to Dauntless."

I don't know why, but I somehow feel like I want her to feel at home. Maybe it's just because she is from my former faction — one Stiff to another. Maybe it is because I never managed it myself.

-o0o-

Once all the initiates are down safely, we segregate the transfers from the Dauntless-borns. Max lands the last, and as he walks away, he informs me in a low voice that three initiates did not make it — two transfers and a Dauntless-born. The transfers are factionless, the Dauntless-born dead. She could not land on the roof. I hate the matter of fact way in which he says it, as if someone dying is a very commonplace incident. But that is what things are like in Dauntless.

Lauren takes the Dauntless-borns and walks away, leaving myself with my charge. I give them a once over — there are nine in all. I introduce myself.

"Four? Like the number?" a girl Tris is standing with says skeptically, immediately spiking my temper. Her dress answers for her lack of sensitivity — black and white, she is a Candor. I hate those lots and their tactlessness.

"Yes," I say, taking a calming breath. "Is there a problem?"

"No."

"Good. We're about to go into the Pit, which you will someday learn to love. It—"

The girl snickers. "The Pit? Clever name." That's it, she has just asked for it. I notice Tris' alarmed expression; she does something to the girl, probably stomping on her feet to shut her up. I appreciate her sensitivity, but she isn't quick enough.

"Ow," the Candor girl grumbles. "What is it?"

Hello? Ever heard of something called 'Think before you speak'?

I walk over to her, my expression carefully neutral. I bring my face very close to hers.

"What's your name?" I ask quietly.

"Christina," she squeaks.

"Well, Christina, if I wanted to put up with Candor smartmouths, I would have joined their faction," I hiss. "The first lesson you will learn from me is to keep your mouth shut. Got that?" She nods.

I walk away from her, taking the lead again, resisting the urge to smirk. The 'classic Four treatment', as Zeke likes to call it, can be very effective, as I have learnt.

I explain the routine stuff to the transfers, telling them of the customs of Dauntless and giving them the general picture of the headquarters. Mid-lecture, my eyes drift over to Tris. She is looking at me, but it is clear that she is not paying attention to what I am saying. Her eyes have a glazed look, as if she is lost in some memory or fantasy. My brow furrows. Dauntless is not a place for dilly-dallying, at least not until she has been initiated. She must learn to be a soldier. To pay attention to what is being said.

"Do you find something more interesting than what I'm saying?" I say sharply. Her face turns bright red.

"No, I —" she stutters, visibly embarrassed. "I'm sorry." Someone in the crowd titters.

I nod. "You'd better be paying attention, Stiff, because I am not going to be repeating my directions." She looks down, giving a flustered nod, and I continue with my tour.

When I am done with explaining the basics, I lead the transfers to the dining hall. Curiously enough, I find myself at the same table with Tris and that Candor smartmouth, Christina. Ugh, I do hope she won't start off talking again. I don't think I'll be able to stand it.

I reach for the nearest food I have, which happens to be a plate of bacon rashers, when I notice Tris pinching the hamburgers placed before her uncertainly. Right, she is from Abnegation. Of course she is unfamiliar to this; the Abnegation food is plain to say the least. Just like the rest of them. How I hate these principles, especially as I know the hypocrisy that goes on under the mask of selflessness, when it comes to some people. Learnt it first hand. This is for your own good. I can still hear his voice, every day in my dreams and in my nightmares, even when I am not in my fear landscape trying to face him. I shake my thoughts away, instead focusing on Tris. She must feel like a stranger here, to this place and its customs. I had Zeke, Shauna and Amar to help me through my tough times, even though I kept essentially to myself through initiation; she needs someone to guide her too. Something in me compels me to look out for her, almost unthinkingly. Weird.

"It's beef," I say, putting a stop on my overthinking, nudging her with my elbow to get her attention. "Put this on it," I add, passing her the bowl of hot sauce. Our fingers touch as she takes it from me, and I feel a tiniest tingle of electricity at the contact. Huh. I must be sleep-deprived or something.

"You've never tried a hamburger before?" Christina asks her incredulously.

"No," she says.

"Stiffs eat plain food," I explain, nodding at Christina. You talk like you weren't one a couple of years ago, Tobias.

"Why?" she asks.

Tris shrugs. "Extravagance is considered self-indulgent and unnecessary."

Christina smirks. "No wonder you left."

"Yeah," she says, rolling her eyes. "It was just because of the food."

I repress a smile, but can't help my lips from twitching up a little. Out of the corner of my eyes, I see her smiling.

Eric chooses that instant to turn up and ruin the moment. I feel myself stiffen, focusing on keeping my expression neutral. It's good that I am pretty efficient at hiding my emotion, because Eric and my history doesn't make his presence here welcome. And for some reason, I don't like the hawk-like look he is giving Tris and Christina.

"Well, aren't you going to introduce me?" he asks, nodding to the girls.

"This is Tris and Christina," I say.

"Ooh, a Stiff," says Eric, smirking at Tris. His smile puts me on edge, especially as I see Tris purse her lips. "We'll see how long you last."

Tris' eyes blaze at his comment, and her eyebrows knit together. Quite a spitfire, it seems. She looks like she is about to say something, but thinks better of it. Sensible of her.

Eric's attention shifts over to me, and he says that Max wants to see me. I know this is all about — the usual offer of leadership. I rebuff Max's offer yet again. I guess I should be grateful that he is still insisting on me taking on the position of a leader, but I know that I can't do it. Not only can I not face Marcus (and my subconscious brands me a coward every time for it), I have no wish to be a pawn in Max and Jeanine's hands.

"Are you two…friends?" Tris asks me curiously once Eric leaves.

Friends. Yeah, right.

"We were in the same initiate class," I explain shortly. "He transferred from Erudite."

"Were you a transfer too?"

Her question immediately puts me on the defensive. I can't help it; it happens every time someone tries to probe into my past.

"I thought I would only have trouble with the Candor asking too many questions," I say coldly. "Now I've got Stiffs, too?"

"It must be because you're so approachable," she says boldly, taking me by surprise. "You know. Like a bed of nails." Okay, she is not the quiet, demure girl she seems to be. No one has talked back to me like this in a long time other than my friends, and this has never happened when an initiate is concerned. Ever. She has some spunk, this girl.

I look at her, only to practically have my jaw drop. She has her hand over her mouth, but I can see it in her eyes — she's laughing. She is laughing. At me? What's so funny?

I lean in towards her. "Are you laughing at me?" I ask very quietly. It's my 'Four voice', Zeke says.

"Oh, no, I wouldn't dare!" she replies, her eyes wide, but in a mockery of terror; it seems that she is actually enjoying this interaction. I find myself biting back a laugh, even as I find her refusal to be intimidated by me rather vexing. She is something else. Something completely new to me.

As I stare unblinkingly at her, caught in a staring match, I see her pupils dilate. A touch of red creeps up her cheek, and her breathing becomes erratic. The tension that stretches between us is suddenly all too palpable.

"Careful, Tris," I breathe very close to her face, never once looking away from her startling gray eyes.

"Hey, Four!" someone calls from a table across the hall. The moment is broken. Determinedly not looking at Tris, I walk over to the voice, spotting Harrison waving at me.

"Hey man," he says, thumping me on the back. "How's it going? Busy with the initiates already?"

I sit down in the seat vacated by another Dauntless. "Oh, it's alright. Same as last year, I guess. It's too early to tell."

"Hmm." He nods. "The first jumper was a Stiff, yeah? Gave us quite a shock there."

"That was definitely unexpected," I allow.

"You having a moment with her there?" Harrison winks at me. "I didn't interrupt, I hope."

I hope to God that the heat creeping up my neck isn't noticeable. "It was nothing," I say with forced nonchalance. "Just the Stiff being nosy. I know that Candors have that issue, but Stiffs too..."

"Bet you made her wet her pants with a glare of yours." Harrison chuckles.

Far from that, actually. I ended up making her laugh. I look over my shoulder to look at the table I left. Tris is laughing heartily, even as Christina grins. Laughter enhances her looks, it brings rosiness to her pale face. I find myself smiling a little even as I look at her.

The clatter of a fork brings me out of my daze, and I force myself to turn away and focus on the slice of cake that Harrison has pushed towards me.

What was that all about?

As I rise from my table, preparing myself to escort the transfers to the dorm, I notice Max looking at me from a hallway. At his nod, I walk towards him.

"Evening, Four," he greets. "Hope Eric got my message through to you."

"He did."

"And?" He looks at me expectantly.

"My answer hasn't changed."

He sighs. "I was hoping that wouldn't be the case."

"We had this discussion before, Max. I don't want the job."

"You were my first choice," he says. "I am still holding it out to you because I think you are capable. Two years is a long time for deliberation. You wouldn't be getting this offer if it were anyone else."

"I know, sir." I nod. "And I am honored at the privilege."

"You realize that I won't be asking after you forever, don't you?"

"Yes. Yes, I do."

"Very well." He looks at me sternly. "I just came to inform you that you won't be needed anymore tonight."

"Sir?" I look at him, surprised. "I thought I had to take the transfers to their dormitory."

"Eric will be doing it. You can take over your charges tomorrow."

"But — Max, they are my responsibility," I argue. I don't like the idea of Eric alone with the initiates. The last thing they need is his presence. I may be withdrawn and unapproachable, but Eric gives off a definitely unpleasant vibe.

"But the rules aren't yours, Four. Unfortunately, there is nothing you can do about it. Use the early night to get some energy for tomorrow." He nods at me, and turns to leave. "Oh, and Four? Eric will be overseeing the training along with you."

Great. Just what I needed.

Relieved of my duties for the night, I slowly make my way back to my apartment. It isn't hard to guess why Eric will oversee the trainings too, despite holding the important post of a leader — they don't trust me enough, and they don't approve of my methods of training. Last year, much to Eric's chagrin, I had stopped the fights before any of the initiates got hurt too badly. Something tells me that this year, they'll be made to fight tooth and nail, until one of them just can't. The values of Dauntless are changing. Surely this isn't what was meant to be when the factions were created — changing people into vicious, heartless beasts. As I open the door to my apartment, I can't help the image of that girl, Tris, that flits into my mind — so small and fragile, not an ounce of muscle on her, and wonder how she will cope.

I quickly take a cold shower and change my black denim pants and full-sleeved shirt in favor of the more comfortable pajamas and a loose T-shirt. I lie down on the bed, staring at the ceiling. Tomorrow feels like an hour worthy of anticipation, unlike the rest of the dull days I have been through lately, deliberating the idea of defecting to become factionless. But for some reason, the plans don't make it into my head today. All I can think of is that I have a group of young people under my wing, all ready to be sharpened into something they were not. I wonder how many will make it to the end, and how many won't. There are three Erudite, five Candor and one from Abnegation — Tris. And for some strange reason, it is her face, and her wide, demanding eyes that keep flashing before my eyes before I gradually drift off.

Tomorrow is definitely going to be a long day.

Yes, a little short perhaps... I'll try to update soon. Did I do justice to Tobias' POV?

Until next time!