I walk Tris to my apartment with some hesitation.  I mean, even if I do feel something for her, she might not feel the same way as me, and I need to be mindful of that.

I sit her down on my bed as I go to get my first aid kit.

I open it with jittery fingers and take the alcohol, the antiseptic and the gauze out.  Then I walk back over to where she is sitting, slouched on my unmade bed.

"Why are you helping me?" She croaks.  I stop walking towards her.

"Because," I scratch my head.  What do I tell her?  Because I'm a Stiff too?  Because I like her?  She would be even more traumatized than she already is.

"My initiates are my responsibility, so I can't have them getting harassed." I shrug my shoulders and continue the short walk over to her.  She cringes - though from me coming towards her or from her injuries, I don't know - so I stop a few feet away and kneel, taking her hand in mine and applying the antiseptic wipe to it.  She winces and places her other hand on top of mine.  It seems like a reflex, but the second she knows she's doing it, she takes it off.  

I look up at her.  

She searches my eyes as if looking for something, and I have to look away, otherwise, she might see straight through my Dauntless attitude and clothing and straight to my soul - the abnegation part of me.