*A/n: Guilty confession. I ship Peter/Tris. HARD. I know that i'll probably get a lot of hate for this, but *shrugs* whatever. And you wouldn't be reading this if you don't like the pairing right? Right?

I had a hard time writing this, so i would really appreciate it if you leave a review/constructive criticism. :)

Beta-ed by Sheilove13 :) Go check her profile. She's awesome.

Worse than Death

My body tensed on its own accord when we entered the room where we will take the final test.

I sat on a chair and willed myself to relax, but the knots in my stomach wouldn't uncoil, the slight tremor of my hands won't cease. I clenched my fists and told myself to get a grip, forcing all thoughts of anxiety out, out, out. If I were to make it to the top ten, my mind should be clear – sharp.

"Transfers, the order in which you go through the final test was taken from your rankings as they now stand." said Four. "So Drew will go first and Tris will go last."

I let out a breath I didn't know I was holding. A part of me was anxious to get it over with already and another was cringing and edging away from the inevitable.

I barely notice what's going on with my fellow initiates, I was so focused on rehearsing the plan I came up with last night on how to escape a fear as quickly as possible. I've encountered most of them at training already, but who knows what other horrors the simulation could dig up from my brain? I will try my hardest. I have to get into the top ten.

I have to.

What do you do when the snakes fall? You kill the nasty creepers with the rock.

What do you when the waves come at you? You let it take you to the shore instead of drowning you.

A flash of movement comes into my line of sight and my internal mantra dissolved into nothing. A bulky figure made its way to Eric. That figure was sitting beside me. That person – whoever he may be, I just didn't care anymore – was ranked third. And I am second. I flexed my fingers and took a deep breath.

I am next.

My stomach didn't take that news lightly. Anxiety made my hands cold, made my heart pound faster. I was disgusted with myself. I wasn't like this.

No. I will not be weak. I will master my fears. I will face this head-on.

And then Four calls my name.

I stand up then walk to Eric, more prepared than ever. I barely even felt the sting as he plunged the syringe into my neck.

What do you do when you get shot?

I clenched my fists.

You relax and accept death. I told myself just as the room melted away into a completely different scenery.

.

.

If the final test were to be based on our original fear landscape and no unexpected horrors get in the way, then I would only be facing one more fear. Relief coursed through me though what was to come next hardly warrants that feeling. Because I may be facing the last one, but that last one happens to be the worst one. I'd rather go through all my other fears again than confront this one. But I knew I couldn't do anything, couldn't prepare myself. So I just closed my eyes as the scene shifted yet again.

I opened my eyes to the familiar sight of brick walls and metal bars of a cell. But familiarity hardly ever makes it less terrifying. If anything, it makes it worse.

My gaze landed on the woman watching me through the cell's bars.

The woman is my mother.

She was glaring at me with a look of disgust and hatred so intense that I almost looked away.

Going through this simulation a few times doesn't make my heart beat a little slower, doesn't make it easier at all. No matter how many times I run this situation to my likeness in my head, I couldn't seem to master it when the time came. And I reacted the same way I did every single time I'd had to confront this fear: I panicked.

"Mom." I said, my voice almost cracking.

"Don't call me that." She almost hissed, fixing her hazel eyes – mirror images of my own – on me. "No son of mine is a monster."

"Why don't you just kill your bastard of a son then and get it over with?" I laughed bitterly. "You want the mess off your hands. You don't want anyone to know what your child has become. So just do it."

She reached behind her and took out a pistol. "Oh believe me, I will. You shall be punished for your crimes."

Just a simulation. Just a simulation. I keep telling myself over and over. But the fear landscape projects your fears. And fears were reality. I always knew that I was a letdown. That I wasn't good. That my own mother thought her only child was becoming a monster. And that monsters were meant to be destroyed.

That's why I chose Dauntless. Not to escape her, no. That's cowardice. I left Candor so I could show her what I've become. A callused child, incapable of feeling anything but hatred. My revenge against what she deemed me to be, because I know she will grieve for my humanity, feel pain for what was lost.

And so she wasn't what I am afraid of. What I am afraid of is what she'd do to me in this simulation.

On dangerous situations I ask myself, when the instinct to survive kicks in, what could be worse than death?

And I'd always arrive at the same answer: Nothing. Nothing could be worse than to feel your own strength drain away from your body, feel your heart struggle to keep you alive.

My mother could be a faceless man for all I care. She was a different issue altogether. I don't know why the simulation chose her. I don't fear who does it. What I fear is the aftermath of the deed.

She clicked a bullet into place and pointed the gun at me.

I couldn't move. I know that there was no escape this time.

"Goodbye Peter." she said, smiling at me coldly.

I could duck, but what would that accomplish? It would only make my time here in the simulation longer.

She pulled the trigger then suddenly I was on the floor, writhing in absolute agony, blood gushing out from my torso.

I tried to just let the pain eat me, but in every single one of us is a monster. A selfish monster that claws towards life – towards survival. And it rose from the deepest pits of my being, clawing for air in a desperate, hopeless battle.

I willed myself to relax, closing my eyes and letting go of the tension in my body. Just this one left. You just have to get through this and you're done. .

Then that feeling came – like a heavy weight placed on my chest – and I couldn't breathe, couldn't fucking breathe, but I kept my eyes closed, telling myself again and again that it will be over soon. A heavy darkness settled over my mind like a fog, bringing with it a strange sense of peace. And I let that darkness consume me, quite confident that when I opened my eyes, I would be in the testing room, alive and well.

.

.

And open them I did.

But instead of a room, I was greeted by a meadow. I just stared with my eyes wide open.

What now?

I snapped back to my senses, looking around for the fear I'm supposed to face. 'Cause I can't possibly be afraid of daisies and sunrise and beauty, could I? Because the meadow was indeed beautiful. The grass was rich with poppies and violets and flowers of various kinds. The sky was clear and azure. The whole scene has children and sunshine and rainbows written all over it but not Peter. This place is my exact opposite.

So I stand there, confused, looking at my surroundings until I saw it. A burst of pale gold from my peripheral vision. At first I thought that it was only a trick of the sun, but I saw it again. I swiveled to my right then jerked back at what I saw. Or rather who I saw.

There, about thirty feet away from me, in the most carefree position i'll ever see her in, was Tris Prior. She was sitting on the grass, eyes closed, head thrown back, pale blonde hair rippling in the wind. Even from this distance, I could see that her lips were curled into a small smile. She was wearing Dauntless clothes – a black shirt and tight black jeans.

I was rooted to the spot. She can't be here. Her appearance meant something I would never admit to myself.

She must've sensed me somehow because she opened her eyes and turned her head in my direction. Her blue-gray orbs landed on me and I expected to see the glare that she'd give everytime we'd cross paths. But where hatred and disgust should be, there was joy and something else I didn't pause for to read.

I ran. I ran as fast as I could to the thin crowd of trees in the distance. I heard her shout my name and knew that she was following me. I finally reached the crowd of trees and I zigzagged through them, finding the largest tree not to hide, but to gather my thoughts.

I leaned on its trunk and took deep breaths.

Idiot, idiot, idiot. You knew it was coming, you know you did, you fool!

I groaned. That Stiff. This was all her fault! She shouldn't have chosen Dauntless, shouldn't have decided to show off and be the first jumper. Shouldn't have caught my attention in the bloody first day of initiation.

But really, it was impossible not to notice her. Her petite form, her gray Abnegation clothes, all screamed "LOOK AT ME" amidst a group of Dauntless initiates.

When she balled her gray shirt and threw it at me, that moment just before she jumped, I knew she was something else. She intrigued me, and subjects of my curiosity are also often the victims. I'd tease her; bully her, just to see how she'd react.

But I also hated her. I don't why, but I just did. Maybe it was her goody-two-shoes-ness, or maybe it was just because good and evil were always meant to hate each other. I already knew how abysmal of a person I am and she isn't kind either, but her selflessness sure as hell makes me feel like I'm the cruelest person alive.

I was attracted to her – am attracted to her. That's something I wouldn't deny. It was perfectly normal for a teenage boy like me to feel that way for someone. And it wasn't the first time I was attracted to a girl.

My eyes would drift to her whenever she's not looking. And I started to crave for that vehement look she would give, and so I irked her more. I was curious – curious on how much I'd have to cut her until she finally bleeds, on how much I'd have to mess with her until she finally falls into pieces. And because she wouldn't break, I became more frustrated.

And then Molly and Drew finally began to notice. I began to notice something else too. It started as a prick in my stomach until it became acid in my mouth. They said it was jealousy and I didn't want to believe them even if bile would rise up in my throat everytime that Will would put his arms around her or Four would look at her with that look. And then I backpedalled, 'cause no, I couldn't possibly be jealous. But of course it was too late. Once possessive thoughts enter your mind, it's always too late.

I began to see her in a different way, then. She wasn't pretty anymore, but beautiful. Suddenly, I began to wish that her smiles would someday be directed at me, that her laughter would exist because I made them. And that scared me. It scared me so much, it drove me to murder. But when the time came, when she was at her most vulnerable, when she was at my mercy, when only one push would send her to her death… I couldn't do it. I couldn't, I couldn't, I couldn't. And that was when I realized that that girl – Tris Prior – had scraped off my callousness, the one thing I'd relied on to get me through initiation, through most of life. She stripped away my armor without even knowing what she did.

Nothing could be worse than death.

I snickered. Such bullshit.

I can't believe how just minutes ago it was my worst fear. Now I know better. Nothing, not even death, could be worse than knowing that someone has control over you. Ironic, really, how the odds had changed. Now she is predator and I am prey. And she doesn't even have the slightest idea of what she could do to me.

I didn't know how long I was thinking about Tris Prior. But I knew it wasn't that long when the sound of feet treading through grass snapped me out of my thoughts.

I looked up and there she was smiling at me and holding out a hand. I stood up and dusted myself off without taking her hand. She let it drop to her side, her smile melting a little.

I don't know how in the world I'll get out of this one. But I'll figure out a way. I have to.

"Peter" she said softly.

Oh God. The way she said my name.

"What are you doing here, Stiff?" I asked, doing my best to make my voice sharp, and praying that the fast pounding of my heart won't give me away.

She frowned at me. "Hey. No need to be so mean. I came here because you told me to meet with you, remember? Said we're going to have a picnic. I even managed to smuggle us some cake."

I didn't know how to respond. I turned away.

A hand pressed against mine, warm and nice. I stiffened at the contact then stared at her hand. It looked so fragile compared to mine that for a second, a protective feeling squeezed my chest.

She looked up at me, her eyes round and childlike. "Hey. Is something wrong? You seem … off."

I yanked my hand away from hers and didn't miss the look of hurt on her face.

If only she knew. If only she knew how much I ached for that single, miniscule contact.

"What is with you?" she half-yelled. "First you run away from me, then now…" her voice caught a little. "You… you want out of this – this thing, don't you?"

I could sense the pain behind her words. And I wanted to say yes, that I want out of this madness. But I couldn't find it in me to lie.

She must've took my silence as a yes.

"Why?" she said angrily. "You … Don't you like me anymore? Is that why?"

I finally turned around and looked at her – looked her in the eye so that she knows I'm telling the truth. "Don't say that. Don't ever say that. You're beautiful and you're kind and brave…" I paused, knowing that this is the very thing I should be avoiding, but here I am practically confessing to her. "… you're everything I'm not. So even when I…do horrible things to you, just remember that."

There. I've said it. I have to get out of this simulation. Now. I was about to make a run for it when the sound of my name stopped me. I faced her again.

"Peter I … I have something to tell you."

I just stared at her.

Her eyes were downcast. "I think…" She finally looked up and pursed her lips. "I think I might be in love with you."

I recoiled, my eyes widening. That wasn't what I was expecting. Panic rose within me, reminding me that I have to get out of here.

But how?

I could calm down until my heartbeat becomes steady, but that would be quite hard for me to do right now, what with Tris in front of me and all.

"I'm sorry – I don't expect you to say it back. I just want you to know so …I'll just go." She dropped her head and walked briskly away from me.

You can't escape this fear. You can't defeat it either so …

I sighed.

You embrace it.

And before I regret it, before I could even think about the consequences, I grabbed her hand and crashed my lips on hers.

I know that this will go back and bite me so hard but at the moment, I didn't care. I shoved all the worries I had on the back of my mind where I could keep it locked. But one thought kept pestering me. This is wrong. This is wrong. This is wrong. But – my life be damned for admitting this – it felt so right, so natural, so real. How the hell do they make a simulation seem so real? For it felt as real as my bones, as real as my feelings for her.

Then came the ache in my chest, a good ache that yearned for her, that made me pull her closer. But I knew. I always knew that this wasn't real. This whole thing wasn't real. She doesn't love me – she hates me. And she thinks that I hate her.

I wanted to stay. Oh I do. Even if each second in the simulation lessens my chance in making it to the top ten.

I pulled away. And the look in her eyes almost made me regret my decision. And so I gave her one of my rare smiles. "Goodbye Tris." I said, then closed my eyes.

And when I opened them I was back in the testing room.