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.

17. Chapter 17 - War games

Tori and Tris - Chapter Seventeen - War games

I woke early and rolled quietly out of bed, in mission mode. In the bathroom I plaited the clumps of dreadlocks I have worn forever, I put black stripes under each eye - more for effect than for purpose. I pulled on my full length cargos, a thick pair of socks and my newest military boots, they need wearing in anyway. I clomped around searching for my special good luck reconnaissance tank top which is code for wanting Tris to wake up and join me in war games preparations. There were several tank tops, but they were neither special nor good luck and may or may not have ever been worn on a recon mission.

I searched through the mountains of Dauntless equipment and supplies that I had collected over the years; boots, belts, hats, canteens, running shoes. Tris has been watching me from the doorway, I turn my back to her immediately conscious on her behalf. "Recon?" she asked, apparently amused at my war paint. I pull a shirt, any shirt over my head. "Yep!" I said with more conviction than I felt, I put a well worn pair of boots in front of Tris with a pair of thick socks sticking out of each one. I pecked her lips, flicked on some music and went to the bathroom where I searched furiously through the laundry hamper, knowing perfectly well that the tank top was not there. I felt strangely pleased with the mess I was making.

I filled two canteens, I found a pair of torches, fresh batteries, knee pads, sunglasses and a range of rucksacks. I turned up the volume, I finally found the tank top and pulled it on. I put on more layers and then the knife vest on and pulled the velcro tabs firmly. I was beginning to suspect that I was going overboard but I was enjoying myself thoroughly and feeling surprisingly free of the oppressive fears that I had long been occupying my mind. I had binoculars, cap lamps and bullet vests, elbow pads, walkie talkies and gloves. I was becoming increasingly frantic and loading more and more stuff by the door - I was still flinging clothes - clean clothes, dirty clothes, all over the place. I sensed I was becoming a little hysterical.

I saw her sitting on the window sill looking rather distressed, the boots with the socks I gave her were sitting on the chair Four had used the day before. I stopped, my heart turning uncomfortably at the sight of her unhappy frame - looking impossibly small in the large window frame. I am immediately sorry, guilty for being so self indulgent, I was supposed to be taking care of Tris and here I was scaring the crap out of her. I turned off the music and approached her penitently. She accepted me without reservation, drawing me between her legs and holding me to her. It took a couple of minutes for me to regain my equilibrium at which point Tris gently pulls back to look at me, rubbing her hands up and down my arms. "What is it?" she asked, her eyes, as ever, surveying me keenly.