Brave

"Courage is found in unlikely places."

― J.R.R. Tolkien

I sat in the basement of an abandoned building, next to a fire to try and keep myself warm. Despite choosing a thick gray sweater from the pile of clothes the Stiffs had donated us, I was still cold. Maybe it was the fact that the sweater was tattered and had holes in several places, or maybe the feeling of abandonment just kept you this way – perpetually freezing. I kept my good eye trained on the fire. My back was hunched as I sat cross-legged on the floor, my elbows resting limply on my thighs.

The factionless were all around me, scattered all over the basement they called home. They were passing around cans filled with food, unworried by the risk of spreading a disease or the fact that it was just purely unhygienic. Several of them were clustered together near their bedspreads, chatting animatedly. A group of girls sat near me, I could hear their giggles from where I was seated. Their shadows on the wall told me they were braiding each other's hair.

I shook my head. I could hardly fathom how they could sit together, giggling, totally unperturbed by their current situation. They were factionless, for God's sake. They belonged nowhere. They barely had any reason to stay alive.

Yet here they are. A voice plagued the back of my mind. Here you are.

I grimaced. I was not one of these people. These people had nothing but the skins on their backs and leftovers from Stiffs. It was a miracle that half of them were still alive. I stood up and headed for the bathroom, my bare feet tingling against the cold concrete floor.

I splashed water on my face and raked a wet hand through my hair, ruffling it so violently I was dangerously close to ripping it all off. As I leaned on the rusted sink, my eyes found my reflection on the mirror fragments still stuck on the wall. A thin layer of smog covered the glass, making the image hazy. I stared at it with incredulity. The boy in the reflection couldn't possibly be me – he was haggard, befouled, and missing his right eye.

No, he isn't you. A voice said. He is what you've become.

Refusing to look at my reflection any longer, I tore my gaze and stared intently at my feet. They were dirty and grimy, and my toenails were almost completely black.

"Shoes," I mumbled to myself inaudibly. "I should get shoes."

I walked out of the bathroom and crossed the end of the room, where a factionless woman I knew not the name of stood, overlooking the pile of donated clothes. She smiled at me as I trudged towards her. A scowl remained plastered on my face as I approached.

"Is there a spare pair of shoes?" I asked her, my voice husky and strained. I cleared my throat. How long has it been since I had an actual conversation? Days?

Almost two weeks. Ever since Myra left you.

Bitterness and resentment began to spread throughout my already septic body. I was seething, but I contained myself as I watched the woman sort through several pieces of clothing. I tried to shake off the feeling as she straightened back up to address me.

"It's Edward, right?" she inquired, her voice uncertain. I nodded. "Well, there aren't any shoes here, but I did find these." She held out a weathered pair of navy blue flip-flops. I took them from her and examined them. Despite the fact that the edges of the rubber was slightly frayed, they looked sturdy enough to hold through.

"These'll do." I dropped them on the floor and slipped them on. The flip-flops didn't make my feet any warmer, but at least they would keep them cleaner. "Um, thanks," I added, the words sounding foreign in my mouth.

"Also," she piped and quickly began to rummage through the pile again. She took out a black eye patch with a pirate's skull printed on it and handed it to me. "I know you didn't ask for it, but you can have it anyway. Just in case."

Without another word, I accepted the eye patch and began to walk away. A part of me was angered at the factionless woman for giving me the eye patch. It felt like she was implying it would be better to cover it up. But I tried to bury the feeling. I felt awful enough as it was.

As I headed back to my spot beside the fire, another surge of anger began to pulse through me, but it was not because of the factionless woman. The image of Myra and I, sitting by the fire together when the factionless had just taken us in appeared in my mind, as it so often did. I stopped midway and gritted my teeth, my fingers digging into my palm. She left me. That bitch left me.

I sat down by a wall, farther away from the fire than I would have preferred, but I bore with it. I leaned back, staring mindlessly at the ceiling, trying to clear my thoughts. My shoulders sagged as I slightly relaxed. I looked down at my hand, noticing it was still holding on to the eye patch firmly.

I debated putting it on, but immediately perished the thought. If I put it on, that meant I was giving in, accepting that my eye was no longer usable. It meant that I was accepting what had become of me, how much I'd lost. It would prove that I was too weak to withstand Dauntless initiation. It would show that I was a coward. I slipped the eye patch into my jeans pocket before staring at the ceiling once again.

Minutes passed while I sat there, frozen and silent. I was pulled out of my thoughts when something touched my leg. I looked down to find a rubber ball.

"Umm," a child stood a distance from me, her eyes concentrated on the rubber ball.

"Is this yours?" I asked. She nodded. I picked up the ball and held it out to her, but as I moved forward, she took several steps back. The little girl bit her lip, staring down at her feet. I furrowed my eyebrows and attempted to approach her once more, only to see her repeat her actions.

"What is it?" I nearly growled. I heard my voice growing louder and louder, echoing throughout the basement. "I thought you said this was yours!" My arm was shaking from all the pent up fury trying to escape, causing the grip I had on the ball to tighten unconsciously. The little girl began to quiver, and I could hear her frightened sobs. "I bet you're afraid of me," I scoffed, "because I only have one eye."

I could feel the eyes of the factionless all turning toward me as I shouted at the little girl. "Well, have it then!" I gritted my teeth and threw the ball at the ground as hard as I could, unconcerned with where it ended up. The little girl's quiet sobs floated across the room, along with the whispered judgments of the factionless. I sneered. Their opinions didn't matter to me. They didn't matter to me. I wasn't one of them. They were factionless. None of these people belonged anywhere.

This is why Myra left you. A voice derided.

I stood up, my chest heaving up and down.

"Edward."

I looked to find Evelyn staring at me, her dark eyes focused on mine.

"Come with me," she commanded, turning away before I could open my mouth. Reluctantly, I followed her, completely aware that the factionless were still staring at me. Judging me. I wanted to scream.

She led me to the back room where she spent most of her time. It was even colder here. I rubbed my hands discreetly, trying to keep warm.

When she looked at me again, I felt my body tense. Shadows covered parts of her face, emphasizing her strong features. She looked harsh and unafraid. Her lips were pursed. During the silence, I noticed a vein throbbing out of her neck.

"Edward," she finally spoke, never tearing her gaze away from me. "Ever since you've arrived, you haven't contributed anything but anger and negativity to our community."

"Well I'm sorry I'm not ecstatic about losing everything," I defended, my voice louder than I had intended. "If my presence is unwanted, I'll be on my way then –"

I made a move to turn around but she stopped me. "No," she said, her voice echoing around the room. I felt my blood freeze.

"No," she repeated. "Do not be a coward."

She hit a nerve. I gritted my teeth as I took a step forward, eyeing her menacingly. "I am not a coward!" I shouted.

"Then prove it," Evelyn said. Her voice was calm but it managed to spread across the room.

"I don't have to prove anything to you," I scorned. "I don't have to prove anything to anyone!"

She smirked. "It seemed to me that just a moment ago you were trying to prove a point to that little girl."

I balled my fists. I was ready to strangle her.

"I know that look," she commented, oddly amused by my reaction. "Yes, you could kill me, but you and I both know that wouldn't prove anything."

"It would prove I wasn't afraid," I retorted. "I can do anything. I have nothing left to lose."

"Doing reckless things doesn't prove you're brave," she said. "It shows idiocy."

"Idiot, brave, what's the difference?" A hysterical laugh escaped my mouth. "They seemed the same to the Dauntless."

"That's where the Dauntless have it wrong."

I stared at her, bemused by what she was telling me.

"After years and years of undertaking feats of great risk and danger, the Dauntless have lost the true meaning of bravery," she explained, her voice softening slightly.

"What do you mean?" I wanted to know. "Isn't being brave diving head first into a sea filled with sharks, unafraid of the consequences?" I almost sounded like I was joking.

Evelyn shook her head. "That is only one aspect of bravery. Being truly brave doesn't indicate the lack of fear, but possessing the will to overcome it."

Her words echoed around the room. I swallowed, trying to absorb what she'd just told me. For a few moments, there was only silence.

"I am giving you a choice," Evelyn finally said. "You can either start doing your part and join the group patrolling on the trains, or you can leave. You have until tomorrow to make a decision." Then she left.

I was back on the floor, lying on my bedspread. Snippets of my conversation with Evelyn played in my head like a movie. I stared at the wall in front of me, seeing the faint outline of my shadow. The factionless were all around me, asleep. I didn't need a clock to know that it was probably time for me to do the same. But I couldn't close my eyes. Every time I did, every time I tried to sleep, everything just came back to me. Nightmares plagued my dreams, hunting me down, trying to break me.

I sat up, my entire body aching for proper sleep. I rested a hand on my bedspread as I positioned myself, feeling an unfamiliar piece of cloth underneath my palm. It was the eye patch, crumpled from all my mistreatment. It must have fallen out of my pocket while I was lying here. I ran my fingers on it, my mind debating once more whether I should wear it or not.

Being truly brave doesn't indicate the lack of fear, but possessing the will to overcome it.

Evelyn's words echoed in my mind as I picked up the eye patch. I ran my thumbs on it, gingerly trying to straighten out the folds and creases. Taking a deep breath, I stood up and headed to the bathroom, the cold of the concrete welcoming my bare feet once again. The lights flickered as I walked in, as if deciding whether or not to turn on.

My reflection welcomed me, and my pale skin almost glowed against the darkness. I pursed my lips. My fingers gripped on to the eye patch, delicately holding it in front of what used to be my right eye. Another finger laced around the string, sliding it around my head. The string traced the bridge of my nose, down to my cheek, and then underneath my ear. As I let go, I felt the eye patch tighten, securing itself around my head. I wasn't quite sure how to react as I stared at my reflection, now with an eye patch in the place of an eye.

I headed back to my bedspread to resume staring at the wall. I was still very much aware of the eye patch, the unfamiliar presence around my head. I lay my head down and felt it alter slightly with my movements. My eyes were extremely heavy, desperate for some sleep. But I kept them open. I stayed still and awake until I heard movements around me – the sounds of the factionless waking up.

Hesitantly, I sat back up, my right side throbbing with pain. I adjusted the eye patch as it slipped too close to the bridge of my nose. I scanned the room quickly, almost immediately finding the girl I rowed with yesterday. Without a second thought, I trudged towards her. The sound of my flip-flops rubbing on the concrete was unceremoniously loud. She instinctively hid behind a woman when she saw me approach, her eyes wide with fear. The woman stepped forward to meet me, eyeing me accusingly.

"What do you want?" she growled.

I ignored her, keeping my eye trained on the little girl. I bent down and attempted to smile, the movements feeling rather alien on my face. "I . . . " I croaked. "I'm sorry," I said, not nearly sounding as sincere as I had hoped. I could feel the woman's glare piercing me, but I paid her no mind. I continued to look at the girl, whose gaze never averted from mine either.

"I'm sorry," I repeated, effectively sounding more sincere than before, but not by much. My voice sounded extremely strange, as if it did not belong to me.

The little girl moved around the woman slowly. I tried to widen my smile, but I started to feel my lips quiver as I struggled to keep it. Fortunately, she made no move to stop. I crouched down in an attempt to level our heights.

She stopped in front of me, her wide eyes staring blankly into mine. I smiled at her awkwardly, pain already finding its way to my cheeks. I was beginning to question why I was exerting such an excruciating amount of effort apologizing to this kid.

But when she grinned at me and wrapped her hands lightly around my neck, I found I didn't regret it. I cautiously put an arm on her back, gingerly patting it. My eyes quickly glanced at the woman, who seemed to have relaxed considerably from a while ago. The little girl pulled away, beaming at me one last time before running off.

As I walked away, I felt something so unfamiliar . . . something I hadn't felt in so long I was almost convinced it no longer existed – contentment. In spite of where I was, whom I was with, and the feelings still trying to eat me up alive, it sparked within me. It was miniscule, but it was enough to push me a step forward.

"I made a decision," I stood in front of Evelyn. As I looked at her, memories came rushing back. I balled my fists, standing up straighter trying to compose myself. The smile had been wiped clean off my face, as if it was never there just a minute ago.

"Oh?" she asked, arching an eyebrow questioningly.

I nodded. "I'm staying," I said, my voice cracking. "I'll patrol."

Her lip curled upward into a wicked smile. "Good," she said, though I wasn't completely sure what she meant by that. She beckoned me to follow her, and we were back in that room. It was even colder now than yesterday, if that was even possible. She retrieved a bag hidden by a corner and placed it on top of the table. She slipped her hand in and took out a revolver, holding the handle out to me.

"You're giving me . . . a gun?" I coughed.

"You'll need it," she said, holding it out further.

The gun lay comfortably in my palm as I accepted it. It had been weeks since I last held a gun, but for some reason, it didn't feel unfamiliar. It almost felt . . . right.

"I'm sure I won't have to explain how to get on a moving train to you," she said, the wicked smile on her face widening.

I shook my head.

"Good," she said again.

I left the room without a second thought, slightly grateful I didn't have to remain in there a second longer. Silently, I made my way to the very end of the basement. I held the gun firmly in my hands, and I could feel the factionless' eyes following me as I walked. At the end was a steel door. I leaned on it, putting all my weight on the door as I forced it open. Debris crumbled from the ceilings as the door slowly opened, drizzling me with broken pieces of rock and concrete.

Morning light welcomed me as I stepped outside. The heat spreading across my skin felt so unreal. It had been so long since I stepped outside I'd completely forgotten how much I loved it. I took in a breath of air, thankful, that the awful mix of old urine and rotten food no longer lingered around me. I had half a mind to just leave. I was very much capable of surviving on my own. And I had a gun now.

But I didn't. I was not going to run away.

I walked past several of the Abnegation buildings that were now abandoned. They were painted a dull shade of gray, and built like stacked blocks of Lego. The streets were all identical, so I began to wonder whether I was still heading in the right direction. When I heard the distant clanging of metal, I felt relieved. I followed the noise until I reached the railroad tracks.

I grimaced as I saw the shape of the train in the distance, slowly making its way towards me. I began to question whether I would be able to do this. The last time I jumped on a train was during Dauntless initiation.

You can still run away. A voice told me. You don't have to do this.

I shook my head, the sound of the approaching train ringing in my ears. Before I knew it, I was sprinting, my flip-flops barely holding on to my feet. I threw my body forward, screaming at the top of my lungs before I was even aware of it. I rammed into the floor of one of the cars, groaning from the impact. One of my flip-flops had slipped off my feet during the jump. I pulled myself in and stared at the other side, seeing the familiar buildings of the Erudite compound unfolding before me.

You used to be in Erudite. You could always go back and fight on their side.

I pursed my lips. The Erudite are cowards. They hid behind their books, their knowledge, not wanting to face the rest of the world. I left Erudite and joined Dauntless, thinking that I would be able to find that missing courage.

As I looked on, the image of the little girl, and the rest of the factionless flickered into my mind. I let out a deep breath. I am one of them now. I am factionless.

I noticed movement in the corner of my eye and turned to find a group of factionless already there. They looked at me curiously, holding on to their own weapons almost protectively. I made no move toward them, or them to me.

After a moment's silence, one of them, a bearded man, stepped forward and beamed at me. "Hey," he said, patting my shoulder brotherly. "Nice eye patch."

I saw the rest of them smile at me as well. I attempted to return it to them, but the action still felt awkward.

Evelyn's words echoed in my mind one more time, and only then did I begin to understand them.

I slowly moved toward the group of factionless, who were welcoming me with open arms. Several of them patted my back in friendly greeting.

I looked back outside, and saw that we were now passing by the Dauntless compound. I grabbed my flip-flop and chucked it outside the car, aiming it at the distance.

True bravery isn't risking your life because you have nothing left to lose, but risking your life because there's something worth saving.

(a/n:)

Thank you so much for reading! This little idea just popped in my head one day after I finished reading Insurgent, and I just had to write it. So, this basically happened happened between Divergent and Insurgent, when Edward became particularly violent after he almost killed Drew and Molly, and Myra had left him because of his sudden change.

Edward is one of my favorite characters, mainly because he has so much depth and had gone through so much development from his first appearance in Divergent, and the fact that he has an eyepatch just makes him a million-and-one times more bad ass. A large contributing factor would also be because I imagine him as the (simply delectable) Mario Maurer (hehehe).

I was trying to achieve some symbolism there with the flip-flops. Did any of you notice or... (yeah). I added that little quote up there for no particular reason, but it's such a nice quote isn't it? (everything else that appears in the story, sans the quote, is written by me, though!)

And in case you were wondering, yes, the title and the theme of this story is also slightly inspired by the movie Brave (you go Merida!) but just a tiiiiny lil' bit.

Courageously yours,

Schoe

Also, before I forget...

REVIEW!

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