Tori and Tris

by secretkeeper0024

Tori is a resistance fighter, part of a secret alliance within Dauntless against their tyrannical Leadership Group. Tris is a struggling initiate with a powerful secret. With Eric stacking the deck against Tris, Tori provides with secret training sessions. Can Tori and the Alliance keep Tris alive long enough to pass the final test or will she lose the love of her life. Complete.

11. Chapter 11 - Surviving is thriving

Tori and Tris - Chapter Eleven - surviving is thriving

Thank God her mother doesn't know - surely it would devastate her to know that within less than a month of leaving her parents care she is fighting for her life. She would not be allowed to nurse her child, faction before blood. I would never want her to know that I am doing everything I can to comfort and care for her daughter. Tris sleeps most of the time, her eyes are still swollen shut. When she returns to bed, I apply cold packs and heat packs to various parts of her body, I change bandages and clean wounds, and check stitches. I have managed to strap her ribs but it is so painful I wonder if I can put her through it again.

Two days later I hear scrabbling noises at the front door and approach expecting the friendly, which doesn't come. I place a silent hand against the door and listen intently, someone is definitely out there. I pad quietly to Tris's bedside and take out the 9mm, returning to the door, I slide in the magazine and pull the safety. Silence. God, what I wouldn't give for a peephole right now. I lock the gun and slip it into the back of my pants. Several minutes later, I hear more scrabbling, I do not hesitate to reach for my weapon again, I glance over at Tris and pray to God that she is unaware of her surroundings.

I hear nothing more. Because of, rather than despite my training and skill set, I am not opening that door. I am not scared, it's just an unnecessary risk. I really want a smoke right now but I need to remain alert, I lock and stash my handgun at my back, my glance alternates from Tris to the front door and back again. I notice her begin to shift about, I move to her side and take her hand so that she knows I am near, she squeezes my fingers lightly. After a few minutes she signals her need for the bathroom and I lead her through the door, her hand finds my 9mm but she doesn't acknowledge.

Again, I hear something, someone. Tris must have heard it too, she is frozen, one hand on the basin. In a low voice, I tell Tris to be quiet and remain in the bathroom and I shut the door. I flick the safety and point the nozzle at the front door. My inner butch is on. For their sake there had better be at least a dozen of them because I have 30 bullets in this motherfucker and I am a hot shot. Four didn't bring Tris to my door as a favour to me, thats for fucking sure. I am in position, pressed against the wall, behind a corner, I am between Tris and the front door, adrenaline is flooding my system, my heart is pounding - I regulate my breathing.

Then I hear it. I hear the friendly followed immediately by a smart pattern I do not recognise. I lock the gun and replace it at my back. I go first to the bathroom door, cracking it I say "Its ok, it's one of ours, stay here." At the front door, it's Luka, and I knew it would be; the second pattern is our new friendly. Next to him is a small tower of boxes, he has raised a sweat getting all of this up the stairs, I move to help him bring them in, but he shoves me, not unkindly, back through the door. "Wheels," he explains and pushes the tower into my apartment, it wobbles but it doesn't fall. He immediately turns to lock the door.

There appears to be a lot of stuff, more than I asked for, but more than that, I am reassured that the well greased wheels of our alliance are both willing and functional. An image of Eric choking on a piece of me flashes into my mind and I grin, I really can be a sick son of a bitch sometimes. Luka pushes a bag into my hand "I hope you don't mind but this is some of the stuff you ordered recently," that's code for some of my black market supply has arrived. Protocol normally would be that parts of my order would be held until complete, and only then, the person with whom I placed the order would hand it over. But these are no longer normal times. My contact is in the know, concerned that I am in need he wants to supply me asap, but coming to my home would compromise us. "Thank you, Luka," I reassure him.

Encouraged he pushes a small glass vial into my hand, saying "You need this," he watches me looking it over closely, turning it over in my hands. I don't recognise the inch and a half long glass tube, with what appears to be a small brass nut at either end. Luka taps on the front door, "It's a peephole. You need it," he repeats, I nod. He has me stand at the front door and makes a pencil mark, then he pulls a cordless drill from the top box. I return to update Tris, I offer to help her back to bed but I know between her old sense of modesty and her newly acquired fear, she will wait until he has gone. I squeeze her hand and promise to be quick.

When Luka is finished, he tells me a deadlock is being sourced and we smile at the irony. This will be the safest apartment in Dauntless, for a faction of cops - that's some statement. Knowing Tris is imprisoned in the bathroom he gulps the glass of water I push into his hand and leaves before I have finished thanking him. It's not really necessary, he is not doing this not for me per se, not even for Tris, but for the alliance. It's kind of like bartering with points, they go into the kitty. But this was a big job and I am grateful.

I lock the front door and rap out our new friendly on the bathroom door just because I can, "Triss? He is gone, it's just me." Rather than helping her back to bed, I guide her to the recliner at the window and she sits in the sunshine, fingering her newly identified bald patch. I stand behind, looking down at her wishing I could take away her pain - both physical and psychological but that sort of thinking is fantasy. I bring her some tea and drop a hair brush into her lap. She drags it through her hair half heartedly but does not persist. I offer to cut her broken nails, she looks down at them, flexes her fingers a couple of times, but shakes her head. Fair enough, I think, hair and nails are first world problems.

Relative to my reducing the sedative and pain meds I had been supplying Tris, her night terrors increased. Her dreams are vivid and enduring, she wakes frequently and sweats heavily. Sometimes she wakes abruptly, screaming, other times she can't seem to wake at all and cries and moans in her dreams. At times her heart beats frantically, she seems to be looking around but with her eyes still swollen shut it can only add to her terror. I am always on hand to try to comfort her, to remind her that she is dreaming and quite safe. I keep the water glass to her lips and wipe the sweat from her skin. I am certain that she would thrash about more if her body was not so wounded and sore.