Author's Note: I have enjoyed the Divergent series so far, and have read "Free Four." However, I didn't agree with everything as it was presented from Four's POV. So here is my own version of the Knife-Throwing scene from his perspective. I believe it follows Divergent completely, and contains some pieces from Free Four. All characters, dialogue, and the divergent world belong to Veronica Roth. Thanks for reading - and thanks to Belle453 for looking over an earlier draft. Hope you enjoy. (Edited to correct Peter's home faction)

I should be asleep. I'm still tired from the night's game of capture the flag, but my body refuses to rest. I need it. There's precious little time remaining for sleep before the day begins.

I can't avoid thinking of her. It's good that I'm already accustomed to hiding my feelings. Otherwise I'm sure Eric would have noticed something by now. She is amazing. She is the first Abnegation transfer I have seen here other than myself, but she already belongs more than I do. She's fearless. She's smart too, at least as smart as the Erudite transfers. She was the only person on my team to truly think strategically last night.

She would have climbed the Ferris Wheel on her own if I hadn't gone with her. Climbing seemed to bring her to life, despite her fear. I can still close my eyes and feel her presence, close enough to touch. I can still feel her skin, when I supported her tiny body against the wind. She isn't afraid of heights like I am, but she still knows how dangerous that was. I thank God I did go with her. I shudder to think what might have happened, if that support beam had broken away and no one had been there. Or if I couldn't get that deathtrap to run when she was hanging there. It was the only thing I could think of at the time. If I weren't already fighting my fear of heights and the dizzying distraction of her presence, maybe I could have climbed up and caught her. Of course that would have put us both in more danger. Fears exist for a reason.

Initiation hasn't been easy for her. Why would it be, when she's been in Abnegation her whole life, never so much raising her voice in an argument. She may not be suited for hand-to-hand combat but she belongs here in Dauntless more than I do. She hasn't shut down once that I've seen, no matter what's been thrown at her. It makes me so curious, I want to come to training if only to see how she faces each new challenge. She's already known as the first jumper. She's deceptively small, so you'd never guess how tough she is. If she can score well enough in her remaining fight to not be cut, she can make it. She's already stronger than she was when she arrived. She just needs to use her size and speed to her advantage. I tried to tell her that. I hope she was listening, but I couldn't even bear to watch her first fight. It was just wrong, her being matched against that brute who's twice her size.

At breakfast I sit with Zeke and Shauna. It was Zeke who'd told Uriah about the capture the flag game from our initiation, about hiding the flag on the carousel. I don't blame him for talking with his brother, but it still irks me that the Dauntless initiates always get inside information, allowing them to skate through training just a little easier. I don't know much about the non-transfer initiates other than what I've heard from their siblings, though in a matter of days I'll be watching them face their deepest fears in the simulations. Last night didn't tell me much. Marlene's strategy relied on flirting, and Uriah's on his brother's success. Too bad, I'd have liked to see what location my team would have come up with on their own.

Not that they had showed any sign of teamwork - at least not until Tris' plan at the end. Teamwork and strategy, she had said, when I asked her why she thought we were playing capture the flag in the darkened city. She demonstrated both, even if she was the only one. She'd already come up with a plan by the time I'd told the others about the flag - and her plan worked. She won us the game, no matter who carried the flag. Then again, I couldn't really judge the other initiates based on last night - I hadn't been much of an instructor to the rest of them. I'd been busy facing a few fears of my own.

I try not to look at the table across the room, but I can't help a glance. She is with her transfer friends, Christina and Al from Candor, Will from Erudite. You would never guess it's been mere hours since she faced death on that Ferris Wheel. They are in good spirits though they must be tired; Christina is still relishing her part in last night's victory. I had mixed feelings when I saw Christina with the flag. Mostly I am glad that Tris did not draw the ire of their opponents - Peter and his friends. I wonder how strong Tris' friendships are. She will need friends if she's going to make it through initiation. I wish I could be her friend, give her the help she will need, but I can't. I'm their instructor and I am expected to cow the initiates, not to befriend them. I have to hide behind the façade of a Dauntless instructor, terrifying and aloof. In truth I have already been more honest with her than is wise. She already knows one of my greatest fears. I need to be more careful - I cannot seem to show favoritism. Especially for a Stiff. Especially in front of Eric.

I'm relieved when Eric ignores me at breakfast, until I'm reminded I won't be able to escape him in training. I do not fear him, but I am wary around him. I hate seeing the brutality he directs at the initiates, like forcing them to fight against their better judgment. And today he will be particularly dangerous. Eric is not happy that my team beat him, given his interpretation that I'd picked the small and the weak - he somehow fails to see their talent for speed and cunning. You would think he would know better. Eric is smart - too smart - but he lets his belief in brute strength get the better of him. He'll be particularly vicious today, looking for ways to assert his authority. I'll have to be particularly cautious. I can't show any weakness in front of him. Naturally Max picks today to stop at my table and ask how the transfer initiates are progressing. Too bad Eric is only one table away, close enough to notice. This will only add to his bad mood.

As I walk to the training room, I wonder if I could have done anything differently. I would enjoy training the initiates more if it weren't for Eric. He has never gotten over coming in second during our initiation. I didn't know he would be supervising the training, but I have no choice but to deal with it unless I accept Max's offer to join the Dauntless leadership. But I could never accept Max's offer of leadership. I don't believe in his vision of the Dauntless. Besides the very fact that I am here is proof of my cowardice. If they knew, they would never offer me leadership. I would be factionless. Only days ago, that was my plan.

In the training room I am centered and focused. In front of the transfers, I am supposed to intimidate, as if they didn't get enough of that from Eric. But I know what I have to do in these sessions. The room smells of salt and steel, the same as it did when I first set foot in here as an initiate. Knife throwing is not the most practical skill for the initiates to spend their time on, but I appreciate that it teaches focus and control. At least I don't have to worry that she'll be beaten to a bloody pulp by someone twice her size, doggedly refusing to give up.

A large target board stands on the far side of the room. In the open space between me and it, Eric stands rigidly watching the initiates arrive. There is no question that he is going to be relentless today. The faction transfers line up across from him. It's still all to easy to pick them out by their old factions. They will have to let go of their pasts if they are going to survive here.

"Tomorrow will be the last day of stage one," Eric tells them. "You will resume fighting then. Today, you'll be learning how to aim." His gaze hovers somewhere above my head, as if I am too unworthy to be looked upon. My body stiffens at the insult and I force myself to breathe slowly. I will not let him bother me, even if I must let him think he is winning whatever contest he imagines between us. For me the only contest is hiding the truth from him. "Everyone pick up three knives, and pay attention while Four demonstrates the correct technique for throwing them."

The initiates don't move at first. "Now!" he barks. I will have to be attentive today, waiting for whatever small complaint draws his wrath. I hope Tris is smart enough to stay out of his way.

The initiates scramble to the table as a group and gather their knives, inelegant tools appropriate only for training. She is there along with the rest, talking with Christina as they grab their knives and gather with the others. They are on edge, perhaps because of Eric's attitude, but I can't think about her now. I have my own knives in hand. Ignoring Eric and the initiates, I walk to the middle of the room and align my stance with the target. I focus on my breathing, on the weight of the knives in my hand.

I hold the first knife loosely, finding its balance point. I let the air out of my lungs, then inhale as I draw my arm back. On the exhale I swing my arm forward and with a flick of my wrist release the knife. A second later the tip of the blade sinks into the center of the target with a quiet thud. I see Eric moving in the corner of my eye, but I don't look away from the target. Almost mechanically, I repeat the process and demonstrate with the second knife, then the third.

When I've finished, I leave the knives in the target, the blades crowded against each other in the center circle. It's unlikely any of the initiates will hit the center of the target after just one session, but my knives will remind them of their goal. Instead of retrieving the knives I simply move toward a side wall and out of Eric's path. "Line up!" he orders. The initiates scramble into a line and begin throwing knives. At first I don't watch her. I start with the transfers from Erudite and Candor instead. There are too many of them for my liking, but they are the most usual transfers to Dauntless. Not like Abnegation. The Candor make me most uncomfortable, maybe because honesty is dangerous for Dauntless Divergent. Erudite aren't much better - they can be ruthless and therefore dangerous, even if I am careful enough to hide my true nature.

First I observe her shaggy-haired friend Will. He is gripping the knife far too tightly, causing his release to be clumsy. I remember how Amar used to carry his knives during training and how he used them to show us what we were doing wrong or how to correct a flaw. I grab a few dull knives from the training table and return to Will. I am not as kind as Amar was, but I use one of the knives to tap the flat side of the blade against his fingers. I tell him to loosen his grip before he loses a finger. I move slowly down the line, keeping away from Eric and watching the initiates. Their knives fly clumsily and thud onto the floor. They expect it to be easy and it's not.

Peter hurls his knives with force, but he has no skill for this. He's watching the other tributes and worrying about who's ahead of who instead of focusing on his own technique. Just as I'm about to move on, Peter taunts her. "I think the Stiff's taken too many hits to the head!" he jeers. "Hey, Stiff! Remember what a knife is?"

There was a time when I was the Stiff, back before the Fear Landscape gave me a new name. When Eric was the one bullying the other transfers.

I glance toward her and see annoyance in her expression. Her stance suggests she has just released a knife but all her knives are bunched in her off hand. She is practicing her stance and positioning, still clumsy, without using a blade. She doesn't look toward Peter, but as she transfers a knife to her throwing hand it's clear his jab bothers her. She's focused though, staring ahead at the target board. I watch with interest as she practices her throw again, without releasing the knife. Her stance isn't great, but it's better than half the other initiates. Most initiates hold their breath when they throw, but even from a distance I can tell she's breathing. She takes a deep breath and throws the knife, this time releasing it, a little early. But the knife spins through the air and hits the target with a dull thud before clattering to the floor. She's the first to hit the board at all. Warmth spreads through me. I smirk as victory lights her face and she retorts, "Hey Peter, remember what a target is?"

I force myself to look away from her, looking instead to Albert. Albert is surprisingly ill-suited for Dauntless. It is hard to believe that he and Peter were both raised Candor, they are such polar opposites. Many would see Al's size and assume he'd do well here. I simply expect a Candor-born to know themselves too well to choose a faction they are such a poor match for. As the other initiates begin to hit their targets, Al is still hopelessly flinging his knives awkwardly into the floor and the wall. With an inward sigh I move on to Edward. Officially Edward is the most promising of the transfer candidates, but the knives are difficult even for him. At least he handles the weapons with ease if not finesse. For the next half hour, practice runs smoothly. The initiates alternately fling their weapons toward their targets, with varying success, then scamper across the room collecting them again.

Just as I'm beginning to think that today's session won't be so bad after all, Eric strikes. His voice booms through the otherwise quiet room. "How slow are you, Candor?" He is picking on Al, who has yet to even hit the board. "Do you need glasses? Should I move the target closer to you?"

In frustration and desperation to prove himself, Al throws his knife hurriedly. It flies to the side and clatters against the wall. If he can't handle Eric's gibe, he won't have much chance in stage two of initiation. Al is already at risk of elimination. If his final fight tomorrow doesn't show major improvement, he will never have to face stage two. He will already be factionless.

Will I be factionless soon? My plan was to leave Dauntless after this group of initiates, even if it meant dealing with my traitorous mother. Does that change now? Is Tris reason enough to stay? I think she could be, but it's foolish to plan my future around an unproven initiate I've barely spoken to. If she fails initiation, maybe we will both be factionless. But I don't think she will. Selflessness and bravery are not so far apart. Tris belongs in Dauntless. She could be the kind of Dauntless I believe in. I wonder what she would think of those ideas. She seemed to be listening last night on the Ferris Wheel. I said more than I should have then, whether it was because we were for once alone away from prying Dauntless eyes and ears or because we were hanging 60 feet off the ground. I might as well have been in my fear landscape. Nothing like fear to bring out uncomfortable truths. But I want to tell her.

Eric is not letting Al off easy. He looks from the boy to the knife, laying on the floor a little over halfway to the target. Then he leans in, a bully sensing weakness. "What was that, initiate?" he sneers. The other initiates have stopped throwing, all focused on what is happening between Eric and Al.

Al's face turns bright red. "It- it slipped." he mutters.

"Well, I think you should go get it," Eric says viciously. His eyes scan the other initiates as if only now noticing his audience. I wait, alert to where Eric will take this.

"Did I tell you to stop?" Eric demands, his eyes wild. The initiates practically jump at his words and knives are again tossed across the room.

Al's fear is obvious. His eyes twitch across the room as if looking for help."Go get it? But everyone's still throwing."

"And?" Eric asks.

"And I don't want to get hit," he says obstinately.

Eric smiles cruelly. "I think you can trust your fellow initiates to aim better than you." Then he orders Al, "Go get your knife."

"No," Al answers. He sets his jaw with determination. It's probably the most Dauntless thing I've seen him do since he arrived here.

"Why not?" Eric narrows his eyes. "Are you afraid?"

I dread the answer. Albert is not smart like the Erudite. If he doesn't learn, his Candor background will betray him.

"Of getting stabbed by an airborne knife?" Al says. "Yes, I am!" Inwardly, I groan. Have these initiates learned nothing about their leader? Has Al already forgotten about Christina hanging over the chasm?

"Everyone stop!" Eric shouts. The room falls silent as the airborne knives thud against their targets. One clatters to the floor. By the time it stops moving, everything is silent. "Clear out the ring." Eric orders. "All except you." He points to Al.

Knives drop to the floor, another series of clattering blades against cement. Quickly the initiates move out of the ring, then crowd around to watch what is about to happen.

Eric tells Al, "Stand in front of the target."

I lean against the wall, wishing it would swallow me whole. Every muscle in my body tightens as Al walks back to the target, hands shaking with fear. I don't believe for a second that Eric will throw knives at the boy. Not that he'd have any qualms about injuring him, but today Eric won't do it himself. He needs to throw his weight around. I know what's coming, what Eric is going to demand of me. I do not want to do this. The boy is already practically factionless. Why torture him further? I only have seconds to decide how I'm going to handle this.

"Hey, Four," Eric looks over his shoulder at me. "Give me a hand here, huh?" I push myself off the wall and try to act casual. I scratch my eyebrow with the tip of a knife, hoping to appear relaxed as I buy myself a little time. I walk calmly toward Eric at the center of the room. Inside I am frantically searching for a way out of this.

Eric turns back to Al. "You're going to stand there as he throws those knives, until you learn not to flinch."

Why today, when Eric is already furious, already begging for a chance to put me in my place? Why Al, who is so hopelessly out of place here? I will tire before Al learns that lesson. I will slip, especially given that my good knives are still planted in the center of the target and all I have is the clumsy training blades. My entire body is alert. I don't want to throw knives at all. I have to try to get out of this. "Is this really necessary?" I try to make it sound not like the challenge it is. I'm hoping to sound bored.

He stares at me so I meet his gaze. "I have the authority here, remember?" He says, so quietly I wonder if the others even hear him. "Here, and everywhere else." His voice is at once coldly calculating and hot with anger. He will not back down.

I clench my fists around the knives, wishing I could wrap my hands around Eric's neck instead. Without showing any emotion, I force myself to accept the situation. I will have to stay focused now. Just get it over with, I tell myself. Maybe Al will stand his ground. Knife in hand I turn to face Al, standing in front of the target. I position the knife in, finding its balance. It's lighter than I would like. I identify a spot on the board to the left of Al's ear where my knife will land. Because I still have Abnegation blood, I will do what I can for the clumsy boy.

"Stop it." Her angry voice rings through the silence.

My heart falls. She is too selfless, too Abnegation. It makes her brave but if Eric pays enough attention to figure that out he will see her as weak. I glare at her harshly, turning the knife over in my hand. Shut up, I think. Don't do this. She looks back at me, unwavering. It's too late anyway.

"Any idiot can stand in front of a target," she says to Eric. "It doesn't prove anything except that you're bullying us. Which, as I recall, is a sign of cowardice." What is she thinking? She shouldn't make herself a target of Eric's wrath. Why doesn't she get that? She's smarter than this. I know she is.

"Then it should be easy for you," Eric retorts. "If you're willing to take his place." How easy the bluster is for him when he is in control.

For a second she hesitates. Did she really think Eric would back down? It is already too late for her to retreat. Then the hesitation is gone and she moves forward through the crowd of intiates. Molly shoves her shoulder as she passes and Peter hisses, "There goes your pretty face." Then he elbows Drew and sneers at her, "oh, wait, you don't have one." Bile rises in my throat. Sometimes I'm surprised Peter is not from Erudite, as he's another initiate made in Eric's mold - a vicious bloodthirsty boy intent on tearing down others to make himself feel big. He would never sacrifice for someone else. But he's an idiot.

Maybe Tris isn't pretty, but she's so much better than just pretty. Tris is vibrant. She is alive. She is electrifying. Her face is solemn as she walks toward Al. To act despite my fears I must first acknowledge them. The fear that I am not strong enough for this. That my aim will not be accurate enough. That I will lose any trust she has for me. That she will flinch and have to face worse from Eric. That Eric will see through my stony façade and realize what's underneath.

My heart pounds as it did last night, as I raced down the ladder in hopes of starting the Ferris Wheel and getting her safely to the ground. I picture her on the Ferris Wheel again, her eyes gleaming. I remember the feeling of her hand clasped between mine, the sound of the laughter that bubbled out of me when I knew that she was safe. Tris is not what most men would find enticing, but I am not most men. A plan begins to form in my mind. It's too late to keep her out of this, but at least Tris is brave and at least it's me with the knives. I am at once relieved and so very sorry for that. But she can be Dauntless, and I know how the Abnegation think. That means I can help her. I hope she trusts me enough.

I weigh the knives in my hand as she reaches the target and takes Al's place, giving him a nervous smile. She's so short that the center of the target is visible above the top of her head. She faces me despite her fear. I have ordered the knives by their weight and balance, saving the knife with the best balance and most familiar weight for last. I transfer the first knife to my throwing hand. It is light, and could go off-target too easily, but I will have a little leeway on the first throw.

After what she's said in front of everyone, she can't flinch, not even once, or Eric will brand her a coward and who knows what will happen. She meets my eye and I know she can do this. Still I feel I have to make her brave. I choose my words carefully, speaking slowly and hoping the weight of each word steels her resolve. "If you flinch," I tell her, "Al takes your place. Understand?" She spoke up to save her friend, and that is what will give her the strength to stand firm now.

Eric hovers behind me, too close. Thankfully I am well versed in hiding my true feelings from him. I lock eyes with her and breathe as I draw back the first knife. I don't trust its too-light weight. Aiming six inches to the side, I exhale and throw the knife. She doesn't so much as twitch a muscle as it buries itself into the target, a mere half-inch from where I'd wanted. One down. She closes her eyes with relief. That won't do.

"You about done, Stiff?" I challenge her. Because if you are, Al will have to take your place. And she is too brave and too selfless to let that happen.

She doesn't know I call her Stiff because I have to remind myself of where we are and who is watching. Here I have to treat her like the others. I cannot let Eric see how she affects me. Because I want to be able to separate this time, when I am her instructor and she is my student, from some other time, when I might mean something else to her.

She shakes her head. "No."

"Eyes open, then." My voice is hard, because Eric can't know I'm helping her. She opens her eyes and glares at me, determined. I tap between my eyebrows, so she'll keep them open and focused. I find the balance again and throw the second knife. It thuds into the board just above her head, almost close enough to touch her hair. Two down.

Behind me Eric is still hovering. I can tell he isn't happy. She's too strong - he won't be happy unless someone suffers. I don't trust him with the knives and I can't give him any excuse. And I won't let her fail, which means I have only one choice. I cannot give him an inch of leeway to doubt her. She has to be unflinching and I have to throw perfectly.

Again I choose my words carefully so that Eric will just hear a taunt. "Come on, Stiff. Let someone else stand there and take it." I want to remind her of what is at stake for Al and bring out her selfless bravery. She would never let someone else fight her battle for her.

"Shut up, Four!" She's rigid with anger. Good. At least if she is angry Eric won't think her weak. I can feel in every beat of my heart that she will face my last knife fearlessly, that even if my knife pierced her chest she would not cringe.

I have no choice, Eric breathing down my neck. He cannot know. I turn the knife in my hand and raise my arm, knowing I must be faultless. I exhale as my arm extends, and release the knife.

Tris stands steady as a rock while the knife flies through the air and hits its target. I give her a meaningful look as she touches her ear, finding blood. It tells her I had no choice, that it was the only way to satisfy Eric. I hope she takes it as a warning. She's seen Eric's cruelty. She shouldn't make herself a target again.

I am still on edge as Eric walks up to her, nodding his approval. Turning toward the small crowd of initiates he tells them, "I would love to stay and see if the rest of you are as daring as she is, but I think that's enough for today." Then he squeezes her shoulder and smiles down at her possessively. She looks uncomfortable. I want to rip his arm off.

"I should keep my eye on you," he tells her, before walking out of the training room. I am still tense. I wish she could have let Al take his own punishment. I don't want Eric keeping his eye on her for any reason. He disappears into the hallway and the initiates trickle out after him. I wait around, still hiding my relief as I pull my own knives from the center of the target and return them to their leather pouch. I will know better than to leave them behind again. Then I pull out the knife that nicked her ear, studying the small streak of blood on the blade. I watch her from the corner of my eye as the room empties. I can't show compassion in front of the others, even the initiates. She's waiting too, which is good I think. But she doesn't look at me until everyone else has left the room.

As soon as we are alone I move toward her. I want to touch her, hold her, to tell her how brilliantly brave she was and make her see how dangerous Eric is. But I can't. I start to ask if her ear is okay, hoping that the nick was no worse than necessary. Until now I haven't allowed myself to get close enough to see it. Before I can even ask the question she yells at me accusingly, "You did that on purpose!"

Her tone throws me. I stare her down and answer quietly. "Yes, I did. And you should thank me for helping you." Because as glad as I am that we got through that, I never want to have to do it again. Tris needs to be more wary of Eric.

She sets her jaw, gritting her teeth. "Thank you? You almost stabbed my ear, and you spent the entire time taunting me. Why should I thank you?"

My eyes narrow. She has no idea what just happened. She thinks I was taunting her? Doesn't she get that I was helping her? Frustrated I growl, "You know, I'm getting a little tired of waiting for you to catch on!" I have to remind myself she doesn't know I was Abnegation once too. She thinks I don't know what makes her brave. I look into her wide eyes and can see that she's still running on the adrenaline of having knives thrown at her.

Angrily she retorts, "Catch on? Catch on to what? That you wanted to prove to Eric how tough you are? That you're sadistic, just like he is?"

My chest feels hollow at her accusation. I cannot believe this is the same girl I chased up the Ferris Wheel. How can she be so smart about that, and so dumb about this? How could she compare me to Eric? Doesn't she see me at all? I can't tell her the truth, but oh how I want to. I answer her with quiet forcefulness, "I am not sadistic." I am hurt that she thinks so little of me, that her trust in me has been broken so easily. I want her to know she can trust me. I lean in close to her and shake my head telling her, "If I wanted to hurt you, don't you think I would have already?"

I have to stop myself from reaching out to touch her. Frustration boils in me and I know I have to get away. Now. I stalk out, slamming the bloodied knife into a table on my way to the hallway. I hear her begin to shout something as the door bangs shut, but I don't stop. With long strides I walk through the Dauntless compound to the Pit, taking the side path down to the water. Few people are around at this hour. The path into the chasm is barely noticeable, but it leads to my refuge. Surrounded by the sound of the rushing water, I sit on the edge of the flat rock, my legs hanging over the edge.

Here in the chasm, I fall back into my habit of reflecting on the five factions tattooed on my back and my own secret goal to be not only dauntless, but the others as well. My successes and my failures. Amity. Kindness is difficult, it feels too foreign and vulnerable. I have not been kind to her. Kindness does not belong in the training room, under Eric's sharp gaze. The closest I have come to kindness was that brief moment when Christina had the flag, when I told Tris she'd done well. I am not brave enough for true kindness, but I'm working on it. If only I weren't her instructor. Erudite. I hope that I was smart enough today, at least smart enough to deceive Eric another day. Obviously I wasn't as smart as I should have been - I couldn't find a way to show her she can trust me. Candor is impossible. I cannot be honest here in Dauntless, about so many things, which is just evidence of my cowardice. Yet she drew truths out of me on the Ferris Wheel. I am Abnegation still, it's my care for her that drove me up that Ferris Wheel despite my fear. I know that I will be selfless - if there is cause I will suffer for her sake. But I don't think she will need me. Dauntless. Only I know what an imposter I am in my own faction, and it is hard for me to recognize any bravery in my actions. But I can act in spite of my fear, and I can be brave for her sake and my own.

Is it my divergence that makes me appreciate all the factions, and shows me how tearing each other down is so harmful? I was convinced that I could never feel at home here, but I wonder now if I could. I wonder if I will be able to earn back her trust, or if the show I must put on for Eric will forever turn her against me. If only she can make it through inititation.

Tris is strong, and now she has proven herself again. She is a fresh reminder to me of exactly how powerful selflessness can be. I know somehow that she will make me brave again. I know that I will be able to act despite my fears, as long as she is here.

What would happen if she knew how I felt? If she could see through the act, would she like me? Want to be with me? I wonder if it could be safe for us here, if I will always be able to hide my divergence in the sea of the Dauntless. I am already planning how it could work. Strategizing about when I can catch her alone again.

A/N: Apologies for typos etc. What do you think? What was going through Four's mind that morning?