A/N: My first Divergent fic!! Enjoy.
Summary:Â You go to Four for the comfort you know only he can give you.
The silence was deafening.
You lay in the hard bed, your back already aching, staring up at the ceiling in the bleak darkness. The only sound was the intermittent snoring and tired mumbling coming from the other initiates around you as they somehow slept apparently peacefully. There was an odd dripping that seemed to echo around the room, and you couldnât place where it was coming from. Maybe the open-planned bathroom. Or a leak in the ceiling. Apart from that, it was quiet. Too quiet. You wanted to hold your breath, scared if you let it go, youâd wake everyone up.
Which was of course impossible, but you were Abnegation.
You drew your scratchy blanket up to your chin, shivering for a moment as a draft apparently came from nowhere. The thin material did nothing against the breeze, and you could feel your heart thumping against your chest, your breathing quickening. In an attempt to ease your nerves, you shut your eyes, focusing on something else, someone else, swallowing a thickness youâd been feeling a lot recently. Trying to tune in on one thing was something youâd been taught to do over your eighteen years, but it seemed totally futile now. It hadnât worked in the past couple days so you werenât really sure why it would now, but it never hurt to try. You needed it, really.
It took a lot for you to push back the blankets and stand up. Slowly, softly, the cogs in your brain turning so fast you were sure everyone would be able to hear the creaking, you crossed your arms over your chest and hugged yourself. You swallowed again and quietly started padding through the beds, not bothering to pull your shoes on. The ground was cold under your bare feet, but you made do. You knew you wouldnât have much time.
You opened the heavy door, wincing at the screech and feeling your palms grow sweaty as your heart jumped to your mouth. Your head snapped around to check the beds, eyes scanning the room for anything. For a second, you saw someone - had she introduced herself as Tris? - shift under their covers, but after a moment of no more movement and noise, you decided to brave it and stepped out into the even colder corridor.
It was also even quieter than the room, and for a brief while you wondered about going back inside, but the thought itself made your insides turn, so you bit your bottom lip and walked. It was only after a minute of walking that you realised you had no idea where you were going. The halls were endless, and you barely knew your way around them when you were with the others and it was relatively light, let alone when you were by yourself and it was completely, utterly dark. A flashlight might have helped, but even then your navigation skills meant absolutely nothing.
You hugged yourself tighter, breathing out and noticing the puff of cold air that left your nose. It was freezing, which made you think twice, considering you were indoors. But then again, the walls looked as though they were made of steel, and the ground was certainly letting the iciness seeping through your skin all the clearer with every fearful step you took.
You audibly gasped and spun around so quickly your hair flew about your face. You backed up on instinct, almost tripping over your own feet as your eyes just about caught sight of someone walking towards you.
âThe fuck are you doing out of bed, initiate?â
It was Eric. Nobody liked Eric. Least of all you. He was cruel, and cold-hearted, and there was a hatred in his dark eyes that you had thought youâd be free of.
You stopped backing up only when you reached wall, the palms of your hands moving back to touch it.
âI-Iâm-â You struggled for the words, shaking your head desperately as Eric stormed towards you, his face so menacing it chilled you to the very bone.
âSpeak up,â he ordered, âor you wonât have a faction anymore.â
It was a clear threat, and you werenât oblivious to it. Your heart leapt to your throat at the words. He wouldnât⊠would he?
Of course he would. Why had that even been a question?
You steeled yourself enough to force out the shaky words âIâm looking for someoneâ into the cold and the dark. Even to yourself, you sounded squeaky and childish.
Eric rose an eyebrow. âSomeone else out of bed?â
âSomeone tell you to meet them out here?â
âThen, I ask again: the fuck are you doing out of bed, initiate?â
The last word was said as a display of power, you knew. He was a leader, you were nothing. A trainee. An ant.
Tears sprung to your eyes then, and if anything was an indication you didnât belong in Dauntless, it was that. You were terrified, and you didnât even have the heart to feel foolish for it. Your head was swimming, your hands were growing clammier by the second, your legs felt weak. You were staring at the man in front of you, his eyes seeming to drill into your very skull, feeling old emotions race to the forefront of your mind.
âIâm sorry,â you muttered quickly, and Eric stared harder.
âDoesnât answer my question.â He took a step closer and grasped your chin, lifting your head. You could have been sick. You wanted to curl up somewhere and rock and rock until his face left your brain.
Ericâs face contorted into something, something so disgusted you felt your vision going hazier. âYou crying, initiate?â
You vehemently shook your head even as a tear rolled down your cheek, and Eric looked about ready to shove you towards the exit door and lock it behind you when another voice, a voice that quelled your nerves immediately, sounded down the corridor.
âWhatâs going on?â You both turned your heads towards the source, and you sighed in relief, your shoulders visibly slacking.
âFour,â Eric greeted, not at all friendly, as Four made his way towards you, âare the Dauntless supposed to cry?â He jerked his head in your direction, a hint of a mocking smirk pulling at the corners of his lips.
Four looked at you, noting the tears. His face remained emotionless. He stopped in his tracks, letting a sigh through his throat. âNo,â he said, âtheyâre not.â
Eric looked you up and down. His grip on your chin was growing painful, and you found yourself squeezing your eyes shut in hopes it would somewhat block out the pain. Or, perhaps, when you found the courage to open them again, youâd realise itâd been a dream. âThink she belongs here?â Eric asked.
âNo,â Four said, his eyes still locked onto you, still lacking any emotion. He turned then, towards Eric. âIâll take her.â
Eric frowned, his head tilting a little. âWhat?â
âIâll take her,â Four repeated, and you hoped Eric would hand you over and that would be it. Of course, wishful thinking was, often, wishful.
âTake her where?â Eric let your chin go, and you instinctively reached for your throat, rubbing it a little. You flicked your eyes up to Four for a moment when he began to speak again. His tone wasnât as restrained this time, a hint of sternness somehow weaving itself in.
âJust let me handle it, Eric.â His voice was determined and resolute. He wouldnât back down. You knew he never did.
Thankfully, this time, Eric seemed to hear it in his tone, and his passion for stirring the pot and starting a fistfight in the corridors at midnight disappeared. He glanced at you one last time before throwing his hands up and backing away, crossing his arms over his chest. He looked doubtful, but he didnât complain.
Four nodded once, likely in unneeded thanks. âCome on,â he said to you, not at all kindly. He grasped your forearm and turned to walk back the way heâd come, pulling you along with him. You glanced behind you after a moment, seeing Eric still standing in the same place, but he turned after a few seconds, his heavy footfalls signalling heâd moved away.
You didnât speak immediately. You didnât know if it was safe. Somehow, youâd met two of the initiatesâ trainers within five minutes of stepping outside the door of the bedroom; you werenât sure who was typically out at this time of night, and why. Perhaps Ericâs job had been to catch those who should be in bed and threaten them with the factionlessâŠ
Thankfully, after they rounded a corner, Four released your arm and slowed his steps, instead opening his hand and stretching it behind him for yours. You took it straight away, an instinct, you supposed, as a lot of things were when it came to the two of you.
âWere you trying to find me?â he asked quietly, turning his head to look down at you.
You reached up with your free hand and gently probed at your chin. It was a little tender, but Eric was strong. Besides that, you were okay. No new bruises. No new cuts. âNo,â you said, lowering your hand, and Four stopped, coming to stand in front of you. You paused, watching as he reached to touch your chin. There was a gentle softness in his eyes that you adored more than anything else in the world. The kind of softness that belongs to someone who would choose to protect you over anything and anyone, including themself.
âIâm okay,â you said, a firmness to your voice this time that you hoped would assure him of your somewhat-correct answer, and he nodded, though doubtlessly, clearly not satisfied one hundred percent but better than heâd likely been feeling before. He turned to walk again, glancing briefly over his shoulder to make sure you were following him.
You had never been in his room before - hadnât even been sure he had one - but you realised once youâd rounded the corner, heâd opened the door and ushered you in, that it wasnât much homier than the place you and the others had been given to sleep. Of course, youâd rather be there with him than in a dark, cold room where you knew nobody, but it looked as though the upgrade from initiate to leader wasnât much.
Four locked the door as you stood there, staring around the place. You rubbed your arms a little, and he took his jacket from a rusty metal hook on the wall, draping it wordlessly over your shoulders.
âIâm gonna die here.â You didnât really think about the words before they left your mouth, simply choosing to stare at the ground, your cold hands clinging to the jacket.
Four sighed, running a hand exhaustedly through his hair. âNo, youâre not,â he said.
You lifted your head, your brows knitted together. You werenât crying anymore, but you felt as though you could at any time. Your emotions were high. Abnegation. âYes, I am,â you shot back, though you were still quiet. âI canât do what everyone else can. It was luck I could even jump onto that stupid train with your help. I wonât go up the board. Iâll get hit and kicked and probably shot, and if that doesnât kill me then Iâll be shoved onto the streets and be factionless.â You werenât good at controlling your emotions. Never had been. Youâd grown up watching your steps and everyone elseâs, always on your guard, the inability to let your shield down visible to you since birth. Four had told you to. Taught you to. Youâd been alone for a lot of your childhood, but for once, and for one, crazy reason you didnât think you understood yet, you wished you were back there, instead of here. Right now.
Four was concerned, clearly. For all he was stood there like a rock, just looking at you, there was a glint in his eye that could tell anyone with half a brain he wished he could take away your worries and suffer through them himself. Before he could get a word in, however, you spoke up again, your voice a gentle murmur in the seemingly enveloping darkness of the room.
âIâm from Abnegation. I belong there.â
Four gave you a firm look. âNo,â he said, dipping his head, âyou belong here, with me. Somewhere heâs not.â
âIâll never be a proper Dauntless, Tobias. This plan was stupid.â
âThis plan was the only way we could get you away from Marcus.â
He watched as you gazed at him a moment longer with tired eyes before you dropped your head again. He rubbed at his own eyes, raising them to the ceiling as he sat heavily on the edge of his bed. In truth, heâd been stressed and pushed to the limits since the initiates had first been introduced. And not for him â no, he didnât give a crap about himself. His heart had hammered against his rib cage each time one of the initiates jumped and it wasnât you, and heâd been discreetly tetchy and anxious at meal times, and unusually hard when training, simply because his overworked mind had constantly been on you. It always was. Since the day youâd been born and Evelyn had left you both to the mercy of your father, heâd had one hand on your shoulder the entire time, leading you through life and behind him every step of the way, always the one to take the beatings and the words no child should have to hear. Heâd hated himself for choosing to join Dauntless after turning eighteen. You had been twelve, a child still, unable to defend yourself despite the fact youâd never really needed to as much as him. Nevertheless, his need to get out had overwhelmed him, and heâd kept himself going by the sheer thought that in six yearsâ time, when you turned the same age, he could take you away from Marcus once and for all, and have the skillset to protect you better than he had had before.
Heâd never accounted for the possibility that just because he was divergent and subsequently fit in Dauntless, it didnât mean you would. In fact, if heâd stopped to think, he would have realised that you were Abnegation through and through. He hadnât pondered over the fact that youâd have to go through everything the other initiates â initiates who had chosen Dauntless for the sole reason that they wanted to â went through. Youâd have to jump onto trains and punch people in the fighting ring and shoot targets and do things you would never imagine yourself doing. All heâd thought about was getting you out. He hadnât realised he may just be pulling you into something worse.
This realisation had only settled after heâd helped you off the netting once youâd plucked the courage to jump. The scream that had almost ripped your lungs, the fear in your eyes and the trembling of your hands, had all been the exact same he saw on you when youâd been faced with Marcus Eaton.
He hated himself for it all, really, but at the end of the day, he truly believed you had a better chance of gaining somewhat of a Dauntless spark than you did surviving much longer alone with your father in Abnegation.
He put his hands on his knees and heaved a deep breath. âCâmere, Y/N,â he said quietly. He stretched out an arm, and the sight of it alone made any possible hesitation â as if thereâd been any in the first place â disappear. You didnât have much time for dithering, anyway. It was cold, you were tired, and you really, really wanted a hug.
You made your way to Four and fell lightly against him on the bed, immediately feeling the vast contrast to the bed youâd been in not ten minutes ago. His arm came around you, pulling you to his side, and you turned your face into his shoulder. He was warm, and you found yourself shutting your eyes, focusing on the feeling of his shirt against your forehead. âIâm sorry,â he said a moment later, his cheek resting on you head, âI wasnât thinking about what would come after the initiation.â
You swallowed again. Youâd unknowingly bundled a fistful of his shirt, something youâd done since you were a child and even after that. âI just wish I could be more like you,â you mumbled.
A huff of amusement made it through Fourâs nose. âYeah,â he said doubtfully, âbecause we need another me in the world.â He felt you shake a little beside him and considered it a slight victory. Nodding to himself, he shut his own eyes. âYouâre gonna be fine,â he said softly, though even he was unaware as to who exactly he was reassuring.
The silence that came next held nothing of the terror of the silence back with the other initiates. Instead, you felt your entire body relax at the simple feeling of your brother beside you. His muscled arm, his rough hands at your shoulder, even his shirt, which smelled like him⊠everything was as you remembered.
âEric will wonder why Iâm still here.â You reached up to rub tiredly at your eyes.
âWell. Peopleâve gotta find out youâre my sister at some point.â He figured heâd probably end up telling them himself soon. They couldnât tiptoe around each other forever, and he would not treat you like he treated everyone else for the sole intention of keeping your so-called secret safe. He needed people to know you were his, and you were staying.
You sighed, her eyes opening and blinking in the dark. âThat wonât help me.â For a moment, Four was thrown back into some forgotten time, after a bad day when youâd come into his room, or heâd come into yours, and youâd talk and talk until the both of you were happy. Happier, at least. The six-year age gap had never been a barrier. Youâd been two kids wading through a shit childhood, and even now, no longer kids, no longer ruled under one person, you were still running into difficulties. âItâs not like Iâll magically go up the board and be allowed to stay just because youâre my brother.â
âThatâs exactly whatâll happen.â You glanced up at his firm tone. He pulled his head back to look at you, instinctively tucking a strand of hair behind your ear. He shook his head. âIâm not gonna let anything happen to you, alright?â
You knew that. You knew that, above everyone, your brother would never let anything happen to you. You leaned forward, wrapping your arms around his neck and leaning your cheek on his shoulder. Four responded without hesitation, holding you against him. Despite it all, he felt a sort of relief to be sat there with his sister in his arms, solely his responsibility now, unafraid of anyone barging in and ripping you away from him. Not that Marcus had ever done that â heâd never done to you what heâd done to him â but he knew he had more of a chance at fighting off Eric and whoever else disagreed with his (perhaps illegal) decision to keep his Abnegation sister in Dauntless than he ever had his father.
âDo you really think I can do it?â you asked.
Four shrugged a little. âYou have to have a bit of Dauntless somewhere in you,â he told you, âweâll find it.â He smiled then, for the first time that night, really for the first time in weeks. âLetâs get some sleep.â His statement was followed by a convenient yawn in his ear from you. His smile widened a little, and he gently pulled away and bent his leg at the knee to unlace his boot.
âI donât wanna go back there,â you admitted after a second of hesitant quietude.
âYouâre not, kid,â he said. He reached for the edge of the blanket, pulling it back and nodding his head in its direction. You dutifully shuffled over, still clinging to Fourâs jacket, feeling that bit safer. You turned on your side and buried yourself under the covers, shutting your eyes and listening to the noises of your brother moving about the room. Those noises always calmed you. The little things. The thud of his boots being kicked to the floor. The door of the cupboard shutting as he put his clothes away. The sound of him simply moving around the room. It brought a comfort to you that made your worries drift away, and the moment the your dipped and Four slid in next to you, you could have fallen asleep there and then, damn the morning and what would inevitably come.
You cracked your eyes open. He was on his back, staring up at the ceiling, obviously thinking in that way you missed. You gazed at him for a moment, knowing words wouldnât work between you now. Instead, you shuffled closer, your head moving onto his shoulder, and relaxed when he pressed a kiss to the top.
âTris is nice.â You werenât totally sure where that had come from, but you didnât rush to correct yourself.
Four didnât move. âThe first jumper?â he asked, clearing his throat a little. âYou making friends already?â
His brows furrowed and he tilted his head a little to look down at you, a noise of unimpressed amusement reverberating in his throat when he noticed the sly little smirk on your lips.
âNight, Y/N,â he said, patting your shoulder.
You settled against him, that smirk dwindling down to a contented little smile as you felt the warmth of your brother seep through your skin and calm your very soul. âGânight, Toby.â
