Author's Note: Welcome! I don't have much to say, since this is only the first chapter, but I'd like to remind everyone that this is an Eric/OC story. Eric will be less of a dick than he is in the books and movies (let's be real, he wouldn't be Eric if he wasn't just a little bit of a dick). I'm well aware that he's not acting canonically. You've been warned. Happy reading and (hopefully) reviewing!

The first few rays of the rising sun peaked up over the horizon, bathing the orchards in a warm golden glow. The fields were empty now, the early-morning harvest postponed to allow dependents a rare morning to sleep late, but no less beautiful. The only people I could see awake were in the dome preparing breakfast, but the grounds were otherwise deserted. I'd known nothing but this place all my life and I could not fathom the thought of leaving it all behind.

Today was my testing day. It was all at once the best and worst day for all the dependents of this city. Deep down, I know that I am not made for Amity. To stay would make my mother enormously happy, but it would leave me restless and miserable. As for where I do belong, I haven't a clue.

I don't think I would like Candor much. Honesty is important, but it has a hefty price. The truth can do more damage than a gun in some ways and I would never wish to harm another. I've heard rumors, mostly from Candor dependents, that initiates must take truth serum. The idea of laying it all out there, every secret thought and feeling, for everyone to hear sounds like my worst nightmare.

I could see myself succeeding in Erudite. I've always enjoyed learning new things in school and I'm sure I could find a subject to really lose myself in at Erudite. But, the Erudite must be objective. I have great empathy for those suffering and I could not rely upon myself to put my feelings aside.

Abnegation would be the option most similar to Amity, but different enough for it to be a change. I could lose myself in helping others and I would be lying if I said I'd never wanted to escape my own mind at times. Yet I was raised to celebrate life, proudly and loudly. I fear the Abnegation would find me too wild and work to suppress it.

In Dauntless, I would find a different kind of wild. They, too, celebrate life proudly and loudly because the intensity of their duty takes a toll. There is a certain appeal to the recklessness they balance with the great responsibility. I cannot help but hesitate to pick Dauntless as I fear I would not be strong enough for the warrior faction. To cause harm to another because of my own weakness is unacceptable.

"Indigo! What are you doing up there?" My mother shouted from below, startling me. I looked down at her from my perch in the tree, heart aching at the sight of her carefree smile.

After my father died, she'd been a mess. She didn't leave her bed for days, not even crying just staring blankly up at the ceiling like it might hold all the answers. I'd spent a few hours doing just that, wondering if some sign telling me how to get my mother out of bed would ever come. It didn't, but Johanna did.

She came to express her condolences a week later, having allowed her the customary private grieving time. She thought she might find a heartbroken window and her child. Instead, she found a practically comatose woman confined to her bed and a crying child. She called for the doctors specializing in the mind to come and bring her to their hospital for help. She took me in for those months, caring for me like the daughter she was never able to have.

Once my mother was deemed fit to function normally and raise a child, she was sent back to Amity and I to our family home. Johanna still dropped by on occasion, bringing sweets and a shoulder to cry on. I would always be grateful to her for the kindness she showed, but it was nice to have my mother back. Which is why it made it so hard to leave.

"Just thinking." I replied, climbing back down to the earth. "I'm sorry if I worried you."

"I'll always worry about you, I'm your mother. But I did see your note, so I was less worried." She slipped an arm around my shoulders as she led the way to the dome for breakfast. "Are you excited for your test?"

"Yeah." I smiled, trying to reassure her, but she did not look convinced.

"Indigo, I may not be Candor, but I know when you're lying."

"I am excited, I'm just..."

"Scared?"

"Yes. Were you? For your test?"

"Not scared, no. I was nervous, but I felt at peace with taking the test. Deep down, I'd always known that I belonged in Amity. I think everyone knows where they belong, deep down, even if they don't want to admit it." Though no words passed between us, the look on her face told me all that I needed to know: she knew. She knew that I didn't belong here, I never had. But where did she think I belonged?

I didn't dare to ask, though. The Amity may not be big on lying, but there are just some things we don't discuss. So instead I smile, pretend everything is all right, and grab each of us a plate.

After lunch I sit on the floor in the cafeteria with some of the other Amity girls. We're playing a game we always played as children involving hand slapping and a rhyming song. I've never been particularly fond of it, but it's a good distraction from the test.

I see a table full of Erudites glaring down at us for disturbing their reading. The Candor seem to be having a lively debate with one another, but it doesn't look too serious. The Dauntless are laughing and shouting as they play some card game I've never seen. The Abnegation all sit quietly, not speaking and not looking at one another. I notice a blond girl in grey watching us curiously, but without the same expression of annoyance as the rest of her faction. I silently wonder if she's also going to transfer.

I startle when the Abnegation volunteer re-enters the room, calling out ten more names. Two Abnegation, three Dauntless, a Candor, an Erudite, and three Amity—including myself—all rise. We follow her into a hallway full of doors as she sends us in one at a time.

When I enter the room I am taken aback by the wall-to-wall mirrors. The Amity are nowhere near as opposed to mirrors as the Abnegation, but I've never seen so many in one place. I can't help but smooth out my gauzy yellow skirt, fidgeting around in my red blouse. I tuck a lock of my long auburn hair behind my ear, suddenly struck by how much I resemble my mother.

"Hello." The Abnegation volunteer interrupts, an amused smile on her face. She looks familiar, can't be no more than five years older than me. I wonder if she transferred from Amity, but I do not dare to ask. "My name is Emily, I will be administering your aptitude test. Please take a seat in the chair."

I do as she says, reclining back as I take a deep breath. She begins to place electrodes on my face, eyes flitting back and forth between me and the computer. Neither of us say a word until she pulls out a vial full of clear liquid, extending it to me.

"You're going to drink this to begin the test. From there, you'll receive further instructions." I nod, taking the vial and tipping it back. I suddenly begin to feel sleepy and I can feel myself beginning to fade. "Good luck, Indigo. I hope you find where you belong."

Then everything goes black.

I come to with a strangled gasp, swinging wildly as I feel arms holding me down. I relax once I recognize Emily, though I can feel my heartbeat pick back up at the tense look on her face. She moves quickly, removing electrodes and frantically typing something into the computer.

"What? What is it?"

"You need to listen to me very carefully." She says, not looking up from her computer once. "You're going to tell them that you feel sick and you need to go home early. I'm going to manually enter your results as Amity—"

"Don't." I say, surprising both of us. "I mean, what are my results?"

"Indigo," She pauses, hesitant, "do you know what it means to be divergent?"

"Divergent?" I repeat, bewildered. "What's that?"

"Divergents are people who don't fit in to one faction."

"So I'm factionless?" I ask, unable to mask the note of panic in my voice.

"No, no, but you cannot ever tell anyone what you are. Divergents don't have an aptitude for one faction, they have an aptitude for many."

"So what am I?"

"You're Amity...and Dauntless. You have the aptitude to succeed in either faction, but you need to pick the one that can keep you safest. I'm not convinced that you would be safe in Dauntless."

"Amity won't protect me either." I insist, my mind going a million miles a minute. "The Amity are neutral. If the wrong people come looking for me, they won't stand in their way. At least in Dauntless I'll have a chance of protecting myself."

"You cannot tell anyone. Ever." She relents after a moment, deleting where she'd typed Amity and writing Dauntless. "If you tell the wrong person, you'll be dead in an instant."

"I understand." I promise her. She pauses, then surprises me when she pulls me into a tight hug.

"Stay safe, Indigo." Then, without another word, she pushes me out the door into the hallway.

I do as she said, finding the nearest Abnegation volunteer and telling them I felt sick. She agreed to notify the school, sending me out to catch the bus. I'm relieved to find my mother is still at work when I arrive home, not yet ready to face her.

By the time dinner rolled around, I'd managed to compose myself. When she asked about the test, I told her it went well and then quickly changed the subject. Now as we sit eating dinner together in the dome, for the last time, I feel at peace.

If I stayed, I would be putting us both in danger. More than that, she's happy now. I don't have to worry about her falling apart again, she has more friends than she knows what to do with and a stable job. She'll be just fine when I leave.

I watch as she chats with Jax, a man who works in the infirmary. She's smiling coyly, laughing at something he's just said. I miss her already, but I'm not worried.

I love Amity, I do. I'm so grateful that I was taught to be kind. I'm glad for the joy that my faction has encouraged me to embrace. I love that I come from a faction where everyone has a voice in the government. Where every person's life has value and forgiveness is readily given. I only wish it was the place for me.

I feel like a puzzle piece that just won't fit. I see the value of staying neutral, but it's the easy way out and it can hurt others. Kindness in the right amount makes you a good person, kindness in too large a dose makes you a doormat.

I am no longer an Amity, but I'm grateful that I was.

"You know, I think the founders made a mistake." My mother says to me later that night as we sit in our apartment, side by side on the windowsill. "We like to pretend that our faction is the best and our value is the most important. But every faction's values are important in equal amounts. Everyone should be kind and honest and smart and selfless and brave."

Silently, I wonder if I should tell her the truth. That I'm not just one thing, I'm more. But I know how dangerous this is and I would hate to put her in any danger. The less she knows, the better.