DISCLAIMER: I do not own Divergent, the book or characters, or Matchbox Twenty, the music and lyrics. Also the characters appearing in this story resemble the characters from the movie, because really, I love me some Jai Courtney!

"Don't think that I can take another empty moment
Don't think that I can fake anotherhollow smile
It's not enough just to be sorry."

MATCHBOX TWENTY, BED OF LIES

SOMETIME IN THE NEAR FUTURE
SATURDAY - 8:00 P.M.
TRIS PRIOR

She stood, entranced, unable to look away from the scene unfolding in front of her. The resounding torrid echo of damp, naked flesh slapping in unison swirled through her mind, blackness threatening her blurred vision, a thin bubble of hysterical laughter rapidly swelling in her chest, the insistent pressure threatening to erupt the bile burning at the base of her throat.

Lauren smirked, leaning lower, her fingers gripping the comforter, her pale breasts bare in the yellow tinted light, moaning as he thrust into from behind, grunting at his excreted force.

Her fiancee. Her friend.

Fucking.

Her breath came out in short, shallow gasps, her heart pounding in a painful rhythm and she fought against her first instinct to turn and run, hide away from the scene playing out in front of her.

And then the rage grew. The freezing kind of anger, pure and deep, that numbed the pain of Four's betrayal. The rage had made it possible for her to think as she stepped further into the bedroom, slamming the door closed behind.

"Hello Four." Her words were cold, taunting, as his head snapped up, his eyes widening in panicked disbelief. Forgive me for interrupting, I didn't realize it was playtime.

SOMETIME IN THE NEAR FUTURE
SATURDAY - 11:56 P.M.
TRIS PRIOR

She stood on her small outside balcony, her arms protectively wrapped around her stomach, her tired gaze fixating on the darkness, allowing its silence to cloak her in its comfort. The hot breeze caught her long hair, the honey-colored strands clinging to her neck and cheeks in the thick, damp heat of the night.

She had showered, standing under the spray, allowing the water to wash over her as she cried, washing away Four's betrayal and her regret.

But here, now, standing in the darkness of the room with no one to judge her, she was forced to accept one fact.

She was no longer in love with the man she had agreed to marry. She had not been for sometime.

She didn't need him. She knew that now.

She had been hurt by his betrayal, embarrassed, but more angered that he seemed to enjoy the fact she finally caught him. That he was able to freely flaunt what she could no longer turn a blind eye too.

She had loved him. The man he once was.

He had been her prince. He had dazzled her, flattered her.

He had kept her secret as she had kept his.

It had been subtle at first. The snide comments, the demands, the digs.

His anger and jealously. His desire to change everything she was.

He had been furious, refusing to speak with her for weeks when she had chosen a Leadership role. A high-level position of handling interactions between the Factions and the intregation of the new initiates that kept her in almost constant close quarters with the Dauntless leader he depised.

Four had demanded she resign from her position immediately and that she transfer to Intelligence so he could watch over and protect her.

She didn't need his protection.

A fact he didn't seem to understand. She had gone beyond what everyone believed she was capable of doing. There were days that she never looked back.

Self-ridicule clogged her chest. She had taken what he chosen to give and was grateful for it.

Bleakly she wondered how she could have been so blind. How she could have wanted to be with someone who made her feel so small until she all but curled inside herself and disappeared.

She knew she no longer belonged with him.

She never had.

And for Tris Prior, waking to the truth was bittersweet.

Sighing to she shut the balcony doors, wanting nothing more than to crawl into bed and forget the day, forget this moment.

The knock on the front door surprised her. She didn't often ave visitors at midnight except for her occasional drunk best friend. She didn't want vistors, she thought, she wanted to be left alone. But the knocking stubbornly persisted.

She knew it wouldn't be Four. He was probably still comforting Lauren after Tris had dragged her from Four's bed, down through the Pit and left her naked, dangling by her fingertips off the bridge over the Chasm. And she had screamed, Tris thought gleefully. Screamed loudly at that.

Maybe it would be Max who would be proud of her actions, but at the same lecture her on the proper conduct of a Dauntless leader.

Tris glanced down at her black tank top and short black pajama shorts, shrugging with disinterest. Whoever it was would have the misfortune of dealing with her foul mood and lack of dress.

She pressed the touchscreen next to the door, her breath catching in surprise at the sight on the monitor of the young Dauntless leader, standing with his hands braced on the frame, head bent, blankly staring at the ground below him.

As if he could sense her presence, his hands coiled from flat against the door-frame into fists, heavy and solid. Muscles tensed and slid beneath the tattooed skin of his forearms, telling more clearly than words of the emotions seething in the man before her.

"Invite me in." He ordered lowly, his voice raspy.

Tris reached out automatically unlocking the door, but caught herself, hesitating.

She had been a pawn in his game before. What could he possibly want besides to gloat that he had indeed been correct about the almighty and virtuous Four.

"Tris, it wasn't a request." Eric Coulter warned. "Invite me in."

He raised his head, ignoring her sudden hiss of surprise as she wrenched the heavy door open at the sight of his blood coating the side of his face, the crimson color staining the leadership tattoos on his neck from the jagged cut above his left eye.

She heard him suck in his breath - not from annoyance - rather that of an animal snarling, bristling with rage as he stalked through her front door. His tense body rippled with an involuntary motion of a predator poised, adrenaline pumping.

Cold, emotionally detached, manipulative was his nature. He never did anything with a reason. Acting with little regard for what was proper, every movement was done with a purpose. Arrogant with a reckless charm that obscured a dark sensuality that was both intriguing and frightening.

Something that women desired and men despised.

She was certain of one fact.

Eric Coulter was the most dangerous man she has ever known.

And he was bleeding on her doorstep at midnight. Fuck her life.

"What happened to you?" Tris demanded, reaching out, her fingers brushing against the swelling rapidly forming along his chiseled jawline. "Who did this?"

He said nothing as he shrugged off her hand, walking past her into the dimly lit living room, wincing slightly as he grasped his ribs, lowering his battered body to the edge of her couch.

"Eric?"

Tris forced herself to breathe deeply, attempting to ease the pressure in her chest, ignoring the unease that licked at her as she stared at the abnormally silent Dauntless leader. Realizing he had no intention to answer her, she shut the door, quickly going to her bathroom to gather what medical supplies she had.

Something had happened, she knew. Something that had shaken him enough to avoid the Med Bay and come to her instead.

Setting a bowl of warm water of the table, she knelt in front of him, her hands clasping the material of his tattered grey shirt, pulling the remains over his head, dropping it forgotten to the side, gasping at the damage to his upper body revealed to her.

Angry purple and dark red bruises creating a kaleidoscope of color, curving across his ribcage to the solid wall of his abdomen rippled.

Eric sighed, his gaze avoiding hers, focusing on a point past her shoulder on the wall. He could feel the warmth spreading as her fingers ghosted over his aching flesh and while he was tempted to snap at her, he knew she would stop touching him if he did.

She worked in silence ignoring his occasional hiss of pain as she bound his bruised ribs and cleaned the dirt and dried blood from his hands, smoothing antiseptic across the cracked flesh, wrapping the white bandages around each set of knuckles.

He was taunt, tensed, his breathing harsh as she slightly shifted back examining his face, gnawing on her lower lip.

"You need stitches." she said finally. "The cut above your eye is too deep."

"Then do it."

"I'll call Will," she told him, thinking of her best friend's boyfriend, who taken a position in the Med Bay. "He's better equipped to handle it."

"If I would have wanted the boy pretending to be a doctor to jab and prod at me, I would have gone to him." Eric growled harshly, scrubbing his hands across his cheeks. "Now stop wasting my damn time, get the needle and thread."

"Wasting your time? Really? I'll tell you what princess. There's the fucking door. Use it." Tris snapped, her voice rising in disbelief. Her eyes sparkled with bad temper as she stood, pointing to the door. "I'm not in the mood for your shit tonight. Save me men and their little mood swings."

"Today initiate." His tone sounded almost bored at her rant.

Tris swung back around to face him at the sound of the once familiar command, her sharp retort dying as she found him steadily holding her gaze, amusement threatening to the crinkle the corners of his intense eyes.

"You're an ass."

His rough laughter followed her as she opened the medical cabinet, removing her kit containing the needle and thread as well the syringe containing the last dose of pain medication she received after fracturing her wrist and being left with a concussion due to an incident with a few rogue Factionless.

"Planning to poison me?" Eric asked carelessly, flickering a disinterested glance towards the needle in her hand.

"Yes, I plan on putting you out of your misery so I can get some sleep tonight." A smile curved her lips as she stepped between his outstretched legs. "Or maybe it's just my generous nature to give this to you to take the edge off in case my hand is not so steady." He tilted his head to the side, allowing her to inject the substance into his neck.

He reached up, grasping her hipbones, burying his face into the softness of her lower stomach, causing her to catch her breath in surprise, a spark of electricity raced over her skin at his touch and she jerked back slightly causing his grip to immediately tighten.

Against her will, her fingers slid through the strands of his hair, twirling them against her fingers as she felt the strength of his hand. He tilted his head back, staring directly into her eyes, curiosity flickered over his face, making her blood rush hot through her veins. Time hung suspended, as she waited for the pain medicine to take effect and soon his body relaxed, his gaze drooping slightly.

"Are you sure about this, Eric." Tris asked softly, trying to ignore the feelings of his rough fingers sliding over the smooth flesh of her hips. "Last chance."

"I trust you."

Her breathe came out stead, strengthening her as she pierced his flesh, drawing the pieces of the torn flesh together, into a neat row of stitches.

She was careful as she bandaged the area, cleaning the side of his face, gently running the cloth over his neck, shoulders and onto his chest to the silky line of hair running down the middle of his stomach below his naval before disappearing beneath the band of his pants.

He had come to her as if he knew she would not turn her back to this even though her world had changed drastically in a matter of moments, but instead tend to his wounds like she had done in the past.

His coming made what they were real, it was raw.

"So, you've avoided the question long enough and now I want my answers." Tris ordered, her tone even, deep shadows of exhaustion under her eyes. "What happened to you?"

"It's none of your concern." His board shoulder gleamed under the light, the skin taunt and supple as he shrugged, his spine running a deep hollow down the center of his back, and her fingers curled inwards, her nails biting into her palms at his words.

"It s none of my concern?" She repeated as thoughts trembled and raced through her mind. "You show up bleeding, order me around and it's none of my concern?"

But she knew Eric refusing to answer her always meant one thing.

Four.

"Fucking unbelievable. You two are so ridiculously predictable. So, tell me, what was it this time?" She asked. "Issues with your leadership skills? Someone steal the last piece of Dauntless. Wait, I know, maybe he fucked a girl you liked."

Eric kept his eyes on the girl leaning against the wall, a slight smirk playing at the corner of his lips.

"I have no idea what you're talking about, darling." he said. "Who said number boy and I have an issue."

His words caused her tapered chin to tilt upwards in a stubborn challenge.

She had certainly changed from the meek first jumper on Initiation Day.

The woman facing him didn't lack self-confidence, and she didn't appear to be the least intimidated by him now no matter his temper or situation.

She had always given him what he challenged, what he demanded of her.

Eric recognized that fact immediately, so intense, so potent; he felt it thickening in his blood and his lower body.

She was small, almost delicately built, high-planned cheekbones, and her mouth...her fucking smart-ass mouth.

There was nothing he wanted more than to crush her mouth fiercely to his own to feel the pure, primitive triumph at the evidence of her own arousal.

"What are you playing at, Eric?" She interrupted softly, thrusting an agitated hand through her hair, resisting the urge to yank of it in frustration. "I want the truth."

"You think this is some sort of game?"

"Of course, it is. It always has been. Whether I've wanted to play or not." She snapped as he stood, laughing harshly, his gaze searing her. "Anything you and Four can do to one up the other. Who can maneuver me the best. It just depends on whose ego ends up bruised the fastest."

She let out an unsteady breathe as he stalked towards, her gaze focusing on the pulse that throbbed visibly in the hollow of his throat. Her back met the wall as he imprisoned her between the cage of his arms and his body.

"You would side with your boy toy." He said in a decepitively mild tone. Anger darkened his face, a hard smile twisted his lips. "Saint Four can do no wrong even if he fucks your friend."

Eric watched as she bit her full lower lip, drawing it between her teeth. Her fingertips trailed across the curve of his ribcage before resting on his lower stomach, the solid muscle rippling at the contact.

His face was so hard and intense that it looked brutal. His eyes narrowed and molten, the color a deep, hot silvery blue. He leaned down slightly, running his bandaged knuckles down her cheek, his fingers tracing over her smooth skin, the other slipping beneath her tank top, pushing the material up.

"I thought we were past that bullshit. My mistake." Her eyes were dark and hot, her cheeks flushed. "Tell me what happened."

"Does it matter?" he spat from behind clenched teeth.

"Yes, it does matter when you show up bleeding at my door. Did he hurt your feelings?" Tris taunted. "Leave you almost too broken to move? Did he win?"

"Watch it Tris." He warned, his voice was clear and cool in the dead silence of the room. It was easy to see the violence of temper lying just beneath the surface.

"Then tell me," she demanded. "I don't know what you expect me to say."

He owed her the truth.

"It was about you," he finally said in not much more than a whisper. "Each time I fight him, it's about you."

Her breathe hitched slightly at his words, her lower lip trembled.

"I was in the training room, minding my own fucking business." He gave a short, mirthless laugh. "Four and few of his friends showed up and decided to be obnoxious. Apparently, the stupid bastards thought it would be easier since I was alone."

Tris remained silent, raising her eyebrows, waiting for him to finish his story.

"It was about you. About how he finally broke you. That we would be pulling your body from the chasm by morning. It really didn't get any further after that. He won't be out of the Med Bay for a few days. His friends either."

He would never admit the unease, almost terror like quality he had felt twist through his stomach upon hearing Four's words. Not that he expected her to jump.

He had had no choice. Nothing would stop him from the fight, nothing would have stopped him from coming to her tonight, to make sure that Four had not broken her as he had claimed to do.

The bastard would never touch her again.

He wouldn't allow it.

"And then you came to me." her voice was small.

To make sure you're still breathing, he thought silently.

"Is that really a question?"

She knew it wasn't. He had defended her. Again.

"Why didn't you tell me he cheated? You knew."

"Would you have believed me?"

"It wasn't just Lauren. He told me there were others. Each to teach me a lesson." She said quietly. "Some lesson."

"Tris, fuck him." Eric's tone roughened. "He failed you."

"Did I really love him?" she whispered. "I'm beginning to wonder."

"Four's not the life you want. You want to take chances, risks like me. You want excitement, passion," Eric pushed a stand of hair behind her ear, his fingers slowly grazing her cheek as he tilted her head back, gazing into her luminous eyes. She shivered slightly at his touch as he lazily caressed her gloss stained mouth with this thumb. "Lust."

He knew her. Whether she wanted to admit it or not. He knew her.

He described perfectly what she wanted from life.

It was why she had chosen to leave her protected, sheltered life for Dauntless.

She had always believed she was destined to be ordinary. Perhaps she had been born to follow the rules. That she should have been content with what her life offered her instead of always trying to peek around the corner.

But one test had changed that.

Her results had proven that a simple life was no longer an option.

Eric had changed that.

He made her question her life, challenge what she believed she deserved.

"I think I always knew that he didn't love me, that he just wanted to control me, mold me into what he wanted. But I ignored it." She gestured helplessly to the side. "Am I really that selfish for love?"

"I think you're that human." His voice was soft, a deep rumble, sending a small shiver through her, a quivering tension began coiling in the depth of her stomach as she raised her eyes to his.

She was seared by his glance, which surveyed and approved.

He knew and was all the more dangerous for that knowledge.

"But so am I." Eric murmured roughly, his tone intimate before she could guess his intention, he dipped his head and his mouth, warm and hard touched the bare curve of her neck. "I am that human."

His hand tightened around her waist to pull her closer so that she mutely aware of the strength of his thighs as his legs moved against her. Her fingers clenched restlessly on his shoulder, the muscle rippling beneath.

His left hand buried itself in her hair, holding her head still, and his mouth plundered hers demanding, wanting and wet. Stubble rasped against her and she was helpless to stop him, to deny him this.

She parted her lips willingly to the demand of his tongue, giving a tiny sigh of bliss as she curled herself against him, slowly tasting him, twining her arms around his neck and shoulders, pressing her breasts into the hard contour of his chest.

She kissed him with fire and delicacy, offering herself simply to him.

She was that weak.

She was this human.

She could almost feel his fury and frustration and something more, carefully buried needs in his taste as his mouth lifted a fraction of an inch above hers, his breath irregular.

Why can t you be what I expected? he muttered, lowering his head.

"Eric...no." She managed to turn her head, her breathing ragged. "We can't."

"We can and we will." He pushed away from her. "But not tonight."

Tris drew in a deep breath, admitting to her that she had been hiding in the bathroom for the better of twenty minutes as she stepped out. In her mind either enough time for Eric to pass out on her couch or stumble back to her apartment if he wanted to make the effort.

She followed the trail of his boots and socks to his black pants down the hallway and when she entered her bedroom she found him lying on her bed clothed in only his boxers, the pain medication finally taken its full effect.

His powerful body was relaxed, all long bones and hard muscles. One arm dangled off the side of the bed, but his other hand lay relaxed on his chest. His black lashes were dark smudges on his cheekbones. His lips parted softly as he let out a sigh of contentment.

"Lay down Tris. Your thoughts are giving me a headache."

"I don't think..."

"Lay down," he ordered. "Before I come to get you."

Eric s warm skin pressed against her, the strength, the contoured muscles of his chest protecting her weakness, his head dropping to her shoulder. His sandy hair tickled her skin, heating at the brush of his lips. His arms surrounded her, coiling her into his embrace, their fingers brushed softly before clasping hers, intertwining.

They fit. Perfectly.

"There's something else" he whispered, his voice drowsy. "I dream about you."

Her mouth dried her core clenching.

"Eric...what..." she stammered. What did you say?"

"I dream about you." he repeated, his forehead resting on her shoulder. "And I wake up knowing how you'll taste."

"Don't think that I could take another talk about it"