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𝐂𝐡𝐚𝐩𝐭𝐞𝐫 𝟓:
Healthy Competition

A gentle pressure beside my legs stirs me from restless sleep. My heavy eyelids flutter open to reveal the familiar faces of Christina, Will, and Al—Christina is perched on the edge of the bed, a sly smirk tugging at the corners of her lips; Will stands beside her, and Al beside him.

"Man, you look like shit," Christina teases, her tone playful.

"Nice to see you too, Christina," I reply, a smile tinged with sleep breaking through my morning grogginess.

"Hey, Tris," Will greets with a small smile, his features softening with relief. I can't help but notice the swollen bruise marring his cheek and a dark black eye that suggests his fight with Al didn't end well. Al shifts uncomfortably at the foot of my bed, his expression shrouded with guilt.

"What time is it?" I croak, stifling a yawn as I rub the sleep from my eyes.

"Way too early in the morning," Christina replies, a hint of playful exasperation in her tone.

"Why are you guys up?" I ask, adjusting slightly on the pillow.

"We're headed to the pier," Christina explains, "Eric says it's tradition or something. The Dauntless-born are gonna be there too."

"What? I have to come!" I reply, the words tumbling out as I make a weak attempt to sit up, only to be stopped short by a sharp stab of pain radiating from my ribs.

"Tris..." Will warns softly as Christina's hands find my shoulders, gently pushing me back down onto the pillow.

"You look terrible; I can only imagine how awful you feel," Christina argues sympathetically, her brows pulling in slightly.

I know she's right, but the thought of Peter keeping me from enjoying Dauntless initiation fuels my defiance; I feign reluctance, conceding with a sorrowful nod.

"Rest up for tomorrow, alright?" Will suggests as Christina rises from her spot beside me.

"We'll see you in the morning," Christina adds optimistically, flashing a bright smile before turning for the door; Will and Al trail behind her and I watch their retreating figures tentatively. As soon as the hallway falls silent, I spring upright, grunting as another wave of pain radiates through my torso. I swing my legs over the side of the bed and take a moment to gather myself before pushing myself to my feet, a dizzying wave of nausea crashing over me as I clutch my stomach to keep whatever is churning inside from spilling out.

Determined, I stagger from the infirmary and make my way to the dorm. The large wooden door swings open with a creak; the room lies empty, a sense of urgency gnawing at my insides. I change quickly, adrenaline surging through my veins, and rush out into the hallway, clutching my side as I half-run towards the back of the compound. I throw open the heavy doors and sprint towards the iron tracks, my heart sinking as I catch sight of the train's silhouette disappearing into the distance. After a fleeting moment of despair, determination surges within me, and I take off down the platform—even if I couldn't make it, I would try.

With each step, I quicken my pace, one arm wrapped around my midsection to quell the pain, while the other pumps rhythmically at my side, urging me forward. I recall the first time I jumped onto a train, just after the Choosing Ceremony, my heart a chaotic drum. Despite the agony wracking me, I'm in much better shape than I was then and, most of all, I'm not wearing that damned skirt. My determination drives me forward, my legs pumping fast beneath me; I grit my teeth as the world around me blurs, the distance between me and the train shrinking. As I prepare myself to jump, Christina spots me from inside the cab and her eyes widen comedically.

"Tris!" she cries, suddenly pushing through the crowd to the opening, "Give me your hand!" she calls as she kneels by the edge, her hand outstretched toward me. I grasp her hand and throw myself forward as she yanks me into the train. Christina stumbles backward and I land awkwardly on my stomach, my chest heaving against the cold metallic floor; the jarring impact sends a fresh wave of searing pain through my ribs and I bite down on my lip to stifle a cry. Will rushes over and carefully helps me to my feet, his expression a mixture of worry and surprise, as Christina regains her balance, a proud glint in her eyes.

"Tris—Holy fuck, how?" Will sputters, a look of awe washing over his features. I rest my hands on my knees as I catch my breath, gasping through a wide smile I'm unable to suppress. Christina stands at my side with a hand on my back, smiling down at me before turning to Will with a smirk. Suddenly, a booming voice draws my attention to the other end of the car.

"Who let you out?" Eric demands as he strides toward us, his explosive anger carefully masked beneath a stoic expression. I glance up as he approaches, quickly fixing my posture with a hand at my ribs.

"I did," I manage through pained breaths.

"You did?" he echoes, disbelief prominent in his tone as he questions my audacity; he tilts his head, assessing me, and for a brief moment, I think I see a flicker of admiration in his eyes. After a tense pause, he scans my face, gauging my resolve, then shrugs dismissively. "Okay," he concludes before turning on his heels, the conversation lingering in the air as he walks away. A mischievous smile spreads across my face as I turn to Christina and Will.

"You really do have a death wish," Christina remarks with a chuckle, Will wearing an impressed smirk at her side.

"C'mon, let's sit you down," Will insists, offering his arm for support.

"I'm alright," I reply, my breathing labored as pain begins to replace adrenaline's hold over me. Will shoots me a skeptical look. "Really, I'm fine," I assure him.

"You could barely sit up 10 minutes ago; how did you even get out of bed?" he asks, endless attempts to rationalize my condition running circles in his mind.

"I wasn't gonna let Peter of all people keep me from enjoying initiation," I reply, defiance lacing my tone; a warm smile tugs at his lips and the conversation shifts seamlessly as Christina interjects. My gaze wanders from Will as he shifts his attention to the lively brunette; I catch Peter staring at me from across the train car, his gaze lingering on me momentarily before Molly beckons for his attention.

***

About 15 minutes pass before Eric calls for the car's attention, previously loud chatter quickly diminishing to hushed whispers.

"We're almost to the pier, so here's your debrief," he announces, "We'll be playing a game of capture the flag; Four and I will be the team captains. Each player will be armed with one of these beauties," he continues, gesturing to a red gun in his hand.

"Paintball guns? Really?" Molly scoffs with a glance toward Peter.

Eric aims lazily to his side and fires the gun, a dart catching Molly's calf; she goes down with a dramatic yelp, instantly babying her leg. Peter and Drew startle, jumping a bit as Molly cries out in pain.

"They're new Erudite technology," Eric explains, "They simulate the sensation of a real gunshot, if that wasn't obvious." He strides over to Molly and crouches beside her cowering form, plucking the dart from her calf. She lets out an exasperated sigh and coddles her leg. Standing back up, he holds the dart out to show the crowd; he waits for a few nods then continues with his spiel, "Like I said earlier, Four and I will be the team captains," he continues, a playful edge in his voice, "I'll have first pick."

"Don't do me any favors," Four teases, "you know I don't need them to win." Eric scoffs at Four's challenge.

"Well, if you're so confident, I guess you should go first. Let's see this winning team," Eric retorts; Four shrugs and turns his attention to me.

"I'll take Tris," he states, laughter rippling through the car.

"Need someone else to blame for your loss?" Eric quips, a sly smile creeping across his features.

"Something like that," he replies dismissively, cracking a smirk.

"Alright, I'm next," Eric calls. The teams are penned in after each captain has made his final selection, ending with me, Christina, and Will on one side, while Peter's group takes shape on the other; Al ended up on Eric's team, but of any of us to be stuck with Molly and Drew, he's probably the best off. Eric's team is tall and muscular, while Four's looks like we belong in chess club more than anything.

"Four's team is jumping first," Eric announces, "You've got 15 minutes to hide your flag before my team makes its move." Four nods in agreement, tension in the car swelling with anticipation.

"Let's go," Four commands, making his way toward the cab's opening; he gazes out across the landscape, our surroundings whipping past us. After a beat, he leaps from the train, landing with practiced ease. A few follow his lead, throwing themselves from the train as Christina turns to me.

"Together?" she asks, a soft smile on her face. I nod in confirmation and she snakes an arm around my waist, while I rest a hand on her shoulder for support. "Ready?" she prompts and I nod again; she returns the gesture and turns to face the opening, her grip on my side tightening as we prepare to jump.

"Now!" she shouts; I throw myself forward on her command as she leaps from the train, my heart beating in my ears as the world blurs around us. Time snaps forward when our feet hit the ground, her small frame bearing the grunt of the impact. "Are you good?" she asks, her hand moving from my side to the mid of my back as her gaze scans my figure for injuries

"I'm okay," I reply breathlessly, a weak smile plastered on my face. I'm not okay: the air feels sharp and my ribs throb—even my smile aches. I feel nauseous with pain.

"Hey, over here!" Will's voice cuts through the fog of my thoughts, waving us over from a distance. We hurry over, our scattered team regrouping around Four.

"This way," Four instructs, starting toward the pier with purposeful strides as the group converges around him.

"Where are we hiding this thing?" a voice calls out amidst the chatter—a male Dauntless-born, his demeanor tinged with arrogance.

"Where'd you hide the flag the year you won, Four?" a pretty Dauntless girl asks, her eyes gleaming as she twirls her blonde waves around a finger.

"My brother told me they hid it on the carousel," the boy replies, his voice mingling with the light chatter from others.

"Let's hide it there then," another chimes in matter-of-factly.

"Shouldn't we split into teams? One for offense and the other defense?" Will suggests, a strategic glint in his eye; though, his sensible idea is met with a scoff from the blonde girl.

"I think we can handle this one, transfer," she laughs, dismissing his idea with a wave.

"It's a good plan," Christina counters, her tone steady as we approach the carousel, its vibrant colors dimmed under the night sky. Behind us, the grand Ferris wheel looms—the towering structure adorned with colorful cabs swaying gently in the breeze—while ahead of us, tall buildings stretch upward, casting large shadows as cracked windows refract the moon softly. As the group erupts into discussion, I find myself drawn toward the imposing structure behind us. I distance myself from the group, their voices fading into an indistinct hum that causes the night to fall silent.

I approach a ladder at the base of the structure and reach for the rung above my head. As I lift my foot, a voice from behind startles me: "What are you doing?" I look over my shoulder and my eyes land on the voice's owner; Four's tall stature towers over me, his caramel skin gleaming in the moonlight.

"I'm trying to get a good vantage point," I answer.

"Good thinking," he responds, a note of approval lacing his tone as he pulls the strap of his gun over his head and sets it down beside him.

"You don't have to come with me," I protest lightly as I turn back to the ladder and start climbing.

"You should take it easy; you took a beating," he reasons, his fingers brushing against my ankle as he reaches for the rung beneath my foot.

"It's what I signed up for," I counter simply, my voice steady despite the pit that forms in my stomach at his touch.

"It wasn't always this way," he replies, his voice low and contemplative.

"What do you mean?" I press lightly, taking note of his tone.

"There was a change in leadership; that's all it takes," he responds, his tone tinged with sorrow. I drop the subject and an empty silence falls between us as we continue our ascent. Without warning, I hear a distinct crack as the rung beneath me gives out. My heart lurches as my foot slips, sending a jolt of adrenaline through me; instinctively, Four's hand shoots out, gripping my waist with surprising strength and grounding me with unexpected warmth. My stomach flutters as memories flood my mind—his earlier corrections of my form on the chilled rooftop; the muffled sounds of gunfire a distant echo.

"You good?" he asks, his touch lingering slightly after I find my footing.

"I'm good," I affirm, forcing a breath to steady my racing heart. I reach for the next rung, but Four interjects before I can ascend further.

"This is high enough," he remarks as he glances down, a hint of uncertainty etched into his features.

"We can barely see around the buildings; we need to go higher," I reply, my resolve unwavering as I continue to scale the structure. I discern the sound of my solitary footsteps against the metallic rungs and glance back; Four hasn't moved beyond his previous position. Confusion washes over my expression before the realization hits me, a playful smirk tugging at my lips, "You're afraid of heights, aren't you?"

"Can't say that I'm a fan," he admits, the frankness in his voice making me smile wider.

"I didn't think you were afraid of anything," I tease, turning my attention back to the ladder as I continue to climb; I can hear the reassuring rhythm of his footsteps resume behind me. At last, we reach the top and I pivot to face the spokes.

"C'mon, Tris," he pleads breathlessly as I plant my feet and pull myself further up the structure. Despite his complaints, I can hear his hesitant climbing proceed below me. I ascend a few more feet, finally pausing once I can see over the buildings. Four catches up to me and turns over his shoulder, his gaze sweeping across the landscape. His hand brushes against mine as we grip the same bar, the metal cold against our palms. He turns to face me after a beat, our eyes locking for a fleeting moment—unspoken tension separated only by the spokes.

"This isn't so bad," I tease, a small smile on my face. He holds my eye contact and, for a moment, I lose myself in his soft brown eyes. Out of the corner of my vision, a green light flickering in the distance catches my eye and I shift my attention to it. "Look," I say, "There it is." Four's gaze follows mine to a tall building in the distance, the other team's flag glowing like a beacon in the foggy night sky. My gaze lingers on the mesmerizing view, but I can sense Four's eyes return to mine. We stay like that for a while—me entranced by the dancing light and him captivated by me.

"Alright, let's get off this thing," he remarks, his words snapping me back to reality. I turn my attention to him and nod in agreement.

***

We make our way down and head back to the group, their worried expressions welcoming us.

"Where did you two run off to?" the blonde girl asks with a raised brow.

"Tris climbed the Ferris wheel to look for their flag; we know where they are," Four explains, his voice steady.

"We can use Will's idea: One group will follow me to their flag, while the other stays here to guard ours," I chime in, logistics of the plan dancing in my mind.

"Let's do it then," one of the Dauntless-born remarks as a few others nod. Christina joins me, Four, and the blonde Dauntless girl, while Will stays back with Myra and the two other Dauntless-borns. We move silently through the alleys, our guns gripped tightly. As we near the end of an alleyway, Four signals us to stop; his gaze narrows slightly at a tall tower ahead of us and he leans forward cautiously to peek around the corner.

"Ambush!" Four calls out through the fray, quickly ducking behind the wall as the other team fires into the alleyway. "Okay, we need a new plan. Now," he commands, turning over his shoulder to face us.

"Christina and I will head back down the alley and flank them. You two provide cover fire," I whisper-shout. Four nods, his expression resolute as his focus sharpens, and I turn to Christina.

"Stay behind me," Christina instructs and I nod firmly, trusting her lead. She retreats down the alley with her gun raised, while I follow closely behind. We emerge from the alleyway and rush down the side of a darkened building. Suddenly, as we pass an alley to our right, a strong hand yanks me aside and pins me against chilled brick, a calloused hand pressed over my mouth to stifle any sound.

"Was that you I saw climbing the Ferris wheel earlier?" a familiar voice whispers, a twinge of annoyance lacing their tone. My vision adjusts to the dim light of the alley and Peter comes into focus, relief washing over me. "Do you realize how old that thing is? You're lucky about half those rungs didn't give out." I roll my eyes and tear his hand away from my mouth.

"Four was with me, I was fine," I retort, shrugging off his concern.

"Yeah? Prince Charming's gonna save you from a 50-foot fall?" he scoffs.

"What? Think you could do better?" I tease, a spark of playful defiance in my tone.

"Shut up," he replies, rolling his eyes, though a grin betrays his annoyance. Suddenly, I become acutely aware of how close we are; our lips are no more than six inches apart—so close that I can feel the warmth of his breath against my neck. I tilt my head up a bit to compensate for our obvious height difference and his breathing hitches slightly. My heart races anew as he raises his hand to my jaw, a feather-light touch that sends a shiver down my spine. His right hand traps me between his body and the wall as his thumb brushes against my bottom lip, "I split your lip during our fight," he murmurs, his voice low. Silence falls between us as tension rises with each breath, heavy and charged. Our gazes find each other—his eyes are dark green, reminding me of evergreens under chilled winter moonlight. He smells like them too; the scent of him, fresh and earthy, engulfs and pulls me in. His gaze is hungry—a look I can tell he's fighting to keep hidden from me; his eyebrows are pulled in with strained longing. My gaze flits from his eyes to his lips, which are slightly agape—they look soft. His breath is tinged with mint; tension is woven into each breath we share.

"We should get back to the game," he says suddenly before reluctantly pulling away, his gaze lingering on my lips. Air rushes into my lungs as if I had been holding my breath; I hadn't even noticed my breathing hitch. Despite the relief, a strange ache settles in my heart—a feeling I can't quite name. A pit in my stomach forms; just like his visit to the infirmary, this is all to fuck with me. He's trying to throw me off my game and I can't let that happen; I need to focus on initiation. I nod, my throat tight; it's all I can muster as I wrestle with the whirlwind of emotions stirring within me. He returns the gesture, his regretful gaze lingering hesitantly as he hurries off. He disappears around the corner, leaving me breathless in the dim alleyway. After a beat, determination rushes through me and I head off in the opposite direction.

I turn right out of the alley and hurry down the side of the building, gripping my gun firmly to ground myself. Turning into another alley to my left, I sprint to the end, my heart racing with each step. It opens up into a large crossroads, a vast expanse that feels like a battleground. I sprint across the gap, taking refuge in an alley parallel to the one I'd just fled from. As I approach its end, I hear a gun clatter to the floor and the sound of a woman grunting. I raise my gun and slowly peer around the corner.

"Tell me if this hurts," Peter teases, his gun raised on a fallen Christina.

"Why don't you tell me?" I sneer, revealing myself as I step out of the alley with my gun trained on him; Peter turns over his shoulder and I shoot him in the calf. He goes down with a curse and I hurry over to Christina. She grabs her gun and takes my hand; I pull her to her feet and she greets me with a smile.

"Thanks," she remarks.

"My pleasure," I reply with a smirk. Christina peers down at Peter and my gaze follows hers. She lazily raises her gun and shoots his upper thigh.

"Bitch," he jeers, coddling his leg as Christina walks past his crippled form.

"Asshole," she retorts, trading insults with the fuming boy. He grunts defiantly and we hurry off, laughing breathlessly.

***

Christina and I hurry through a maze of alleys until we stumble upon a tall, narrow building.

"Is that it?" Christina asks, her gun raised and head on a swivel.

"I think so," I reply as I reach for the doorknob and pull it open slowly, peering inside with my gun trained. After briefly scanning the room, I signal to Christina that the coast is clear and we head inside. Careful not to make too much noise, we slowly climb the stairs. After four steep sets, we reach the top: a hatch the only thing standing between us and victory. Christina and I exchange one firm nod and I throw open the hatch. Suddenly, a boot connects with my nose and I stumble back with a curse, reflexively bringing a hand to my face.

"Come here, you little bitch!" Molly yells, swiping down at me through the hatch. I sloppily dodge her grasp, dizzy with pain. A shot rings out and Molly goes down with a cry.

"Dumbass," Christina scoffs, offering her arm for support, "You alright, Tris?"

"I'm good," I reply, wiping blood from my nose as I gather my bearings. I sling my gun onto my back and pull myself up through the hatch, my eyes falling upon a cowering Molly. I scan the room and spot the glowing flag to my left. "Over here, Chris," I call as I hurry over to the flag; Christina pulls herself up through the hatch and hurries over to me. I pick up the flag and hold it out for her to take; she rests her hand on top of mine and thrusts it out over the balcony, waving it in the air as cheer erupts beneath us.

***

After the game, Eric and Four collected our guns and instructed us to head back to the drop-off location. As we headed back, Christina chatted about the game with Al. As always, I quickly zoned out—fidgeting with my sleeve as I mindlessly followed beside Will. My mind wanders back to my run-in with Peter: the distance between us, the warmth of his breath grazing my neck—the starved look in his eyes. Then, the cold that replaced his presence after he pulled away. My temper sparks and my fingers subconsciously clench into fists.

"Well done, Stiff," his voice interrupts my spiraling thoughts. I glance to my left and my gaze falls on a smirking Peter; I barely regard him before returning my gaze to the uneven path before us, irritation gnawing at me.

"What do you want, Peter?" I reply, venom consuming my tone. As the others continue forward, Peter and I trail behind.

"What's with the attitude?" he asks, "Ah." I return my attention to him. "I suppose a broken nose will do that to you," he teases, gesturing at the smeared blood across my top lip. I roll my eyes and return my gaze to the dim path ahead of us; silence stretches between us, punctuated only by the sound of the Earth crunching beneath us. "Okay, seriously, what's up with you?" he asks suddenly, concern growing in his tone. Confusion and anger and fear form a lump in my throat, rising slowly like bile before my resolve breaks.

"I want nothing to do with you," I snap, stopping suddenly in my tracks, "Got it?"

"What?" he chuckles, confusion pulling at his brows as he tries to read my expression.

"I'm serious. You're my competition; start acting like it," I retort, my eyebrows furrowed. My glare lingers critically, his brows quickly pulling in to match my frustration before I turn and start towards the others.

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𝐀𝐮𝐭𝐡𝐨𝐫'𝐬 𝐍𝐨𝐭𝐞𝐬

Holy shit x2. I can't believe it's taken me a month to write this chapter; it's twice as long as the others and school's been kicking my ass, but we made it! I tried a new editing style, so let me know what you think! I think I'm going to edit the previous chapters this same way and then get started on chapter 6. As always, I hope you enjoyed!

03/23/25
Hi! Apparently there was a weird glitch in February when I initially published this chapter. I republished it, but figured I should take this time to express that I am still writing! I will be getting updates on my fics out to you guys shortly: It's Complicated is a The 100 fic and Sweeter Than Revenge is a Fourth Wing fic!