Disclaimer: I do not own "Divergent" or "Insurgent" or "Allegiant" or the characters, dialogue, plot lines, etc. that came from those books. All of that belongs to Veronica Roth.

A/N: Unless otherwise stated, this story is told from Tobias/Four's POV. It starts before "Divergent" and will run through at least the end of that book. I'll probably add some chapters after that, too. The story is consistent with the following stories by Veronica Roth:

- Divergent

- Insurgent

- Free Four: Tobias Tells the Divergent Knife-Throwing Scene

- Four: The Transfer: A Divergent Story

It is also consistent with my "Determinant" alternate third book. However, it is not consistent with "Allegiant" or with the later "Four" stories, since those conflict with key plot points that I had in place before they were published.

Before "Divergent" - Bad Date

This is not going well. It probably wouldn't be even if Zeke and his current date weren't making out on the other side of the booth, though that certainly doesn't help. They only met an hour ago, but they've obviously hit it off a lot better than Carol and I have.

We look around awkwardly, trying to ignore our lip-locked table partners while coming up with some type of small talk. You'd think I'd be better at that skill after sixteen years of living in Abnegation, with how good they are at making people feel comfortable without saying anything of substance. But I never did spend much time around my fellow faction members, not with my father insisting that I stay isolated.

So, now I sit here trying to figure out how on earth to have a conversation with a girl while the friend who was supposed to be guiding me completely ignores me. And I don't seem to be doing a good job on my own, at least not judging by Carol's expression. In fact, if I had to guess, I'd say I've somehow offended her. That would explain the annoyance mixed in with her slight sneer of disgust.

I sigh, wondering when it would be considered acceptable to leave – and wondering how much I care about waiting until then. Part of me feels like I should use this as a learning opportunity, since I do at some point want to have a better date than this. But I just don't know how much there is to learn from this particular girl. She's simply not that interesting.

My eyes wander around the room, taking in the other couples as well as the single people scattered throughout the bar. I must not be used to Dauntless appearances yet, because I can't honestly say that any of them look terribly appealing. They're pierced and tattooed on virtually every visible piece of skin, and given just how much skin they have exposed, that's saying something.

God, I'm still such a Stiff.

"Are we done here?" Carol asks, her mouth pulled down in distaste, barely bothering to look at me.

"Yeah," I say, rising and walking off without a backward glance. It's not until I reach the bar that I realize she might have been suggesting that she and I go somewhere else together. I doubt it, though, and even if she was, it's too late now.

"I'll take a beer," I tell the bartender as I seat myself on an empty stool. She hands it to me as she passes by, not stopping to chat. I can't blame her. I'm probably radiating social ineptitude. At least, that's what Zeke says, and given how much everyone seems to like him, he's probably a pretty good judge of that.

"I take it the date didn't go well," a deep voice says from my left, and I turn quickly in that direction. Amar gives me a half smile as he takes the stool next to me.

"Oh, it was a blast," I mutter.

The corners of Amar's mouth twitch upwards. "Like a bomb blast? Destroyed everything in sight?" I just nod.

"Yeah, I haven't had any luck tonight, either," he says calmly, motioning to the bartender. She gives him a smile as she sets a drink in front of him, pausing to exchange a few light words. Great – even Amar is better with women than I am, and he's gay.

"Don't worry about it," Amar says. "You'll meet someone eventually. So will I. Dry spells are normal."

"Don't you need rain first before you can call it a dry spell?" I ask, quirking an eyebrow at him. He chuckles.

"Give it time," he says in that easy tone he's mastered so well. "It's gotta be hard transitioning from Abnegation to here."

I look away, not answering. I don't like being reminded of where I came from, even if I was just thinking the same thing myself. I'm Dauntless now. It's important to act like it, no matter what my thoughts might be.

"Actually, I'm glad I ran into you tonight," Amar says after a moment. "There's something I want to talk to you about." My gaze returns to him curiously.

"It's time to start preparing for the next round of initiates, and Lauren just told me she's not able to be my assistant trainer this year. Would you have any interest in taking her place?"

The words surprise me. I only completed initiation seven months ago myself, and while I've been taking Amar's advanced classes ever since, it's hard to imagine that I'm qualified to be a trainer at this point. Or even an assistant one.

He obviously senses my hesitation, because he smiles casually. "You might not realize this, Four, but you're exceptionally talented at the skills we want our new members to learn." He takes a swig of his beer before continuing. "And judging by how much you helped Shauna, it's clear you're good at teaching those skills, too."

For a moment, I'm silent, just staring at him. "How did you know about Shauna?" I ask a little nervously. I'm pretty sure we broke some rules by training after hours the way we did.

Amar chuckles again. "I know everything my initiates do, especially when they're breaking rules I choose not to enforce." He leans back a little. "I never did see the point in restricting access to the training rooms. Seems like a good thing when initiates want to work harder." He pauses to take another swallow of his beer. "Besides, I was kind of proud of you both the first time Shauna actually won a fight instead of bleeding all over the floor."

I smile a bit at the memory, and he does too, shaking his head ruefully. "I thought she was going to end up factionless for sure," he comments, "but you certainly turned her around…. That's the kind of help I want with this year's initiates." He watches me for another moment, gauging my reaction, before asking, "You game for it?"

For a few long seconds, I stare at the bar, debating. At first brush, the whole idea seems absurd. Yeah, I like training – I certainly spend plenty of time shooting and throwing knives and punching bags. But how can I teach others to belong to this faction when I don't even know how to be Dauntless myself? Still, I know Amar wouldn't be asking me if he didn't think I could do the job.

I take a swig of my beer, buying time to answer, and suddenly it occurs to me that Amar wouldn't pick me just for my skills. He's always cared more about attitude. I think of all the conversations we've had, and how he's hinted so many times that this faction has lost its way and that it no longer follows the values it was founded on. Maybe he's picking me precisely because I don't fit in well with how Dauntless is now.

Maybe he wants to rebuild the traditional values, one initiation class at a time, and he sees me as a potential partner in that effort. The thought fills me with an emotion I barely recognize because I've felt it so rarely. Pride.

My eyes turn back to him, meeting his gaze evenly. "Yeah, I'm in."

Amar smiles, lifting his bottle toward me in a toast. "To working together," he says.

I nod as I raise my bottle to meet his. "To working together," I repeat. If nothing else, this promises to be interesting.