You look for Eric in the cavern, but he isn't there. Eventually, someone points you to a cell, where he lies, bruised and seething, arms slung over his legs.

"Go away, initiate," he tells you, not looking up. "Get out of here."

You grab the bars of the cell, flashing the pass Tris gave you to get in at the guards. "What?"

"He was controlling the sim," the guards explain to you solemnly. "He will face his justice."

You shove past them into the cell, and stand in front of Eric.

"What is wrong with you?" you shout, the hurt swelling up into hot, wet anger. "What is wrong with you?"

Eric's fingers clench into a fist, but he doesn't move. "It was for Jeanine," he spits, head rolling up to face you. "She had us do it. It was the whole reason I'm in Dauntless in the first place."

"You killed people," you whisper, eyes wide, sitting down across from him.

"And now they're going to kill me," he retorts, huffing out a bitter laugh. "And you're not going to be there when it happens."

He uses his large hand to push you back. "Go away, kid."

***

The trial is barely a trial at all. Eric doesn't react except for a few choice jabs that anger even the Amity. The factions vote for capital punishment. He will face a firing squad by the end of the week.

"Don't do it, Tris," you say to her in low tones as you both walk down the Pit one day. "He's with me. I'll watch him, make sure it never happens again-"

"We must have justice," she says, sighing and pushing back her hair. "Y/N, I don't know what's in your head, but he's responsible for murder. He is going to die. That's not negotiable."

She leaves you at that, and you run back to the cell. The guards instinctively part, and Eric rolls his eyes. "I told you to go away."

You sit down in the cell. "Well, I'm not going to."

Eric grimaces, shaking his head. "Well, then you'll die along with me and it'll all be for nothing."

"Don't do that," you say, getting up with a huff and punching your hand along the wall. Your knuckles sting, but you ignore them. "Don't push me away, Eric. In a week, you'll be dead."

He freezes at that, for a split second, then relaxes back into the same seat, jaw working. "Yeah, well, then, all the more reason not to get too attached to me."

"You're attached to me," you say, and Eric shakes his head.

"No," he says, turning his face to the wall. "Go away."

"I saw the way you watched me when I won those fights," you say, moving closer. "I saw how you were right before the sim. I saw how you were when you kissed me."

"It means nothing," he starts, "go-"

You lean forward and kiss him, and, for a moment, he freezes, then leans into it, kissing you back and pulling you over to him.

"Shouldn't have done that, recruit," he mumbles against your lips, but he holds you to him. He smells like leather and tastes like smoke, and the kiss is long, so drawn out that the two of you have to pause for breath every now and then. But it lasts, and Eric doesn't let go until he pulls back with a sigh, spinning you around so you can sit with him, facing the guards.

"I was too dumb to be Erudite," he tells you, wiping his mouth. Your heart is still giddy from the kiss, kicking in a drumbeat. "And too crooked to be Dauntless. Jeanine told me that it was my purpose to come here, to do this. And now that it's over..."

"Tell me about the serums," you ask him.

"What?" he mumbles, amused, but rattles off an intricate layer of facts anyway.

"Look at you," you say, the thin light of evening flickering through the barred window. You reach up a hand to run along his face, rough with stubble. "That's not dumb at all. Jeanine just knew you had to be the one to do something like this, so she had to put you down."

Eric huffs a laugh. "You've got a lot of theories, recruit," he say. "Maybe it's time to just shut up and enjoy whatever's left."

***

The day of the execution draws closer. He doesn't say it, but every day gets worse and worse. Eric is not well. He wakes up with all his muscles clenched tightly, jaw tight as he shakes, staring at the wall of the cell across from him.

Every day you visit him, and every day, he tells you that being here only associates you more with him. In a weird way, you don't care.

You're visiting with him when the firing squad arrives.

"It's about time to look away, kid," he says, standing up and turning to face the squad. "Get out of here and forget about me."

"No," you say, then turn to the others. "I request that you leave him be. He can be rehabilitated."

They glance at Tris, uncertain, but she motions them forward.

"What are you doing?" Eric snaps, his calm demeanor cracking. "Get out!"

The guards move around the cell, still glancing at Tris.

His eyes flicker around and around, at the guards, face twisting into something filled with pain. Then a sheet of cool ice slips over his face. He spits at your feet.

"I never cared about you, Y/N," he says, crossing his arms. "You played your part. You tried to get them to stop. You're worthless to me now."

Each word is like a dagger into your bone. "What?"

"You heard me," Eric says, pacing as they all load their guns. "I knew I was going to need someone to support me when all this was over if it failed. That's why I kissed you, chose you for my teams. But you couldn't do it, so you're worth nothing to me now."

You take a step back, hands curling around the bars. "You're just lying so-"

Eric spreads his hands, taking a step forward. "You think I'm lying? I never cared, Y/N. It was all a game, and you were a stupid little pawn. You were supposed to get me out, and you didn't. It's over now."

"No," you say, the guards positioning their guns around the cell, waiting for Tris to fire. "No, I-"

Eric makes a mocking face at you. "Are you going to die for me, little pawn?" he asks. "Are you stupid enough to die for someone who used you?"

Your mind is running a million thoughts a minute, too surprised, too shocked to cry. "No," you say, finally, grabbing the bars and pulling yourself out of the cell. "No, I'm not."

"Good," he says, tilting his head. "That's life for you, kid."

You pull yourself out. The shots fire as one. BLAM.

He rushes towards the guards, breaking one's neck and reaching for the other with a primal scream, but the second round of shots sends him toppling to the ground.

Your hands are clenched in fists, numb, raw. Tris takes you to her room, but you're not sure how to process.

Did he care at all? Was it all an act? Even the dance at Dauntless ball?

"He was lying," Tris tells you later, making tea in her apartment. "My Candor guard knew it."

"Yeah," you say, but it sticks out of your heart like a glass shard, and you're not sure if you believe her. He said it. He wouldn't lie to you, not like that. Would he?

The days that follow are numb. You're assigned a job as a city guard, and you throw yourself into the most adrenaline-inducing Dauntless activities, pushing harder and screaming louder than any of them. You earn a nickname for yourself: "la fille téméraire": "The Reckless Girl."

It doesn't take much for you to rise up the ranks, and when you do, you find yourself a Dauntless leader, along with Tris, Four, and another initiate you don't really know. You don't take time to think, and you don't take time to feel. You push each initiate class harder and harder, until one day, Tris approaches you.

You're both sitting down at the cafeteria, and she glances at the bottom of her mug of cider.

"Y/N, I don't know that leadership has been good for you," Tris says, and you scoff.

"The recruits are better than ever," you say, setting down your plate. "I've been a great leader."

"You push too hard," Tris says, looking up at you. "Where's the room for mercy?"

You shake your head, taking a sip of water. "Mercy? Where was the mercy for Eric, Tris? Am I supposed to have any left for you?"

"I just... I don't recognize you anymore," she says, face crumbling. "It's like you're all dark."

You shrug, the cracks in your heart from Eric's words surfacing like scars. "So maybe I am. So what?"

You get up, leaving someone else to put away your meal tray. "I'll go on and make Dauntless the best it's ever been. Only the best will survive, and I'll be one of-"

BAM.

The last thing you feel is a searing pain in your back, and when you twist, you see Tris holding the gun.

"I'm sorry," she says before the world fades to black. "I can't let you become him."

But it's too late: you already have. Is that such a bad thing?

Advance to 144.