Emergent: A Divergent Fanfic

Tris

           I follow Peter & Caleb, moving against the wall so they won't see me. I lean forward, trying to catch snippets of their conversation. It's Peter, talking about his life in Dauntless. I hear him mention my name, and I hold my breath.

           "I could tell by the tone of his voice he was jealous, he was angry. Tris was doing so much better than him, an Abnegation transfer, and nobody else was doing as good as her." I'm shocked. I didn't think he was jealous, that anyone else might be angry that I was doing better than the rest. It frightens me to think that I might've killed Al too, that I had driven him so mad that he jumped into the chasm. Who are you? What have you done? Is this what you want to be? A voice whispers in my ear. I don't know. But it couldn't have been my fault, right? Am I going crazy? I close my eyes, letting it sink away in the depths of my mind. Up ahead, I hear Peter yelling. Something about the world only existing in chaos. Is he right, though? Can we really fix any of this? Stop it, Tris. I scold myself silently. If you doubt any of this for one second, doubt everybody's safety, you'll mess it all up. Besides, who am I kidding? That's Peter. Peter wouldn't know a thing about mercy, or hope. I keep moving forward. They've stopped talking. I'm about to lean over and look when I hear a shout, and running footsteps. The guards. 

          They've found us, which must mean we're close to the doors. I crouch down, so that none of the guards will see me. I move to a wet floor sign, and crouch behind it, keeping my back pressed to the wall behind me. A guard's body falls next to me with a thump. I lean over, and grab the gun from his hand. More shots, and grunts. Bodies slam into the wall, the floor. I remember suddenly how good Peter was in combat training, how he had knocked me out. I guess even though we're not Dauntless anymore, combat training still comes in handy. I wait until there's no more shooting and their footsteps have faded away, before I get up from behind the sign. I step over the guards, positioning my gun forwards. I take my shoes off, and tie the laces around my wrists so that I won't make any noise. Being small really is an advantage, sometimes. It reminds me of being in Tobias's fear landscape, and how we were closer than we had ever been before, arms around each other, sharing breaths. I have to do this. I have to do this, if only for Tobias and his safety. I keep walking, until I'm at the double doors. Behind them is another set of double doors, I can see from the small windows on the first door. I can just barely see, so I stand on my toes and peer over. There's Caleb and Peter, talking quietly to each other in the space between the two sets of doors. They pause for a moment, and Caleb hugs Peter. Peter looks momentarily bewildered, and I feel the same way. Caleb lets go of the embrace, and nods at Peter. He starts walking back towards the doors, and I duck down. I look around; there's no other place to hide, so I just press my body against the wall. The door opens, and it conceals me from sight. Caleb walks back towards the gate entrance, slouched shoulders and hands in pockets. He doesn't look back, fortunately. When he's gone, I peer back through the door. Peter is standing there, flexing his shoulders and bouncing on the soles of his feet. He shrugs his sleeve back and looks at his arm. I squint, and see the numbers to deactivate the memory serum. Caleb must've written it on his arm, so he'd remember. He takes a deep breath, and opens the door. He's ready. 

         "Good luck," I whisper, even though he can't hear me. The death serum instantly starts in on him, the smoke curling around him like a taunting snake. It's a sick, thick yellow, and I can barely see Peter through it. He pushes his way through it, his eyes shut tight. He grabs the collar of his shirt, and tucks it up over his face, but we both know that nothing can prevent it from entering your skin, not even clothing. He's slowing down; he'll never make it. The serum is coming in faster, more abundant than before. He falls to his knees, and crawls forward. He's almost there, the door is right in front of him. Please make it. Please, please, please. He's there; he pushes the doors open, and the death serum starts to fade. Yes! The anxiety in my chest fades away, replaced with relief. I wipe the cold sweat off my brow, and look back. So far he's made it, but the mission isn't over yet. There's still the serum to deactivate.