Hello! Here's the next part :)

Breathe, Sophie. Everything is going to be fine. Just remember to keep inhaling an exhaling. Oxygen is good. Oxygen is important for what you are about to do.

My hands shake as I grab the needle and thread from the first aid kit.

I had sat Dean down so that he wasn’t in direct view of the other patients. I didn’t want them to have to see this. But there was also a small thought in the back of my head that said I did it because if I killed the boy I didn’t want any witnesses.

Just relax, Sophie. You can do this. You know how it’s meant to be done. You’ve seen the doctors and nurses do this thousands of times before.

I tried to poke the thread through the eye of the needle but I missed. My hands were shaking too much.

I tried again. Miss. I huffed in annoyance. Again. Miss.

Miss. Miss. Miss.

I was about to try once more when a pair of warm rough hands enclosed mine.

“Why don’t you let me?” Dean suggested, taking the objects out of my hands before I could even object. I had expected his tone to be mocking or teasing me for not being able to do it, but it was gentle and the smile on his face was a kind one.

He put the end of the thread into his mouth before poking it through the hole of the needle, managing to do it first time.

How did he do that? That’s not fair! I’m the one who actually works here.

The feeling of inadequacy that I have become very used to, rises inside me once again. I’m the one who works here and yet I’m needing HIS help. He’s the patient. I’m meant to be helping him, not the other way around.

I cleaned over the wound one last time, prepping it for the stitches. I guess the next thing that I have to do is stick the needle in him.

Maybe I should check if this needle is sterilised first? Even though I did just take it out of a sealed packet, it’s always better to be safe rather than sorry. What about the length of thread? What if it’s not long enough? I should measure out a longer bit. And now more blood has seeped out of the cut and I can’t see the edges clearly. I’m going to have to wipe it again.

“You know, unless you can magically stitch up my arm by staring at it you’re going to have to put the needle in it at some point.” Dean smirked. He was right, I was trying to find any excuse I could think of to put off stitching him up but I couldn’t do that forever. I had to just get over my fear and do it.

“It’s your arm that I’m about to stick a needle into, aren’t you worried that I’ll leave a permanent mark on you?” I asked, confused as to how he could be so calm about this.

“I don’t really care about having permanent marks on my skin.” He said, his smirk getting wider as he pulled down the back of the collar of his shirt revealing the black ink on his skin. He had the dauntless symbol tattooed onto the back of his neck.

I gasped slightly, I wasn’t used to seeing tattoos. No faction apart from Dauntless really got them and I had never seen one up close before. I had admired them from a distance, but seeing one only inches away from me was completely different. The contrast in colour when compared to his skin made the pattern really stand out.

It was beautiful. I doubted that Dean would have appreciated that description, so I kept it to myself.

Dean stiffened slightly, brining me out of my fascination over his tattoo. It was then that I realised my fingers were brushing over the black ink.

How the hell did they get there?

My hand must have moved without me even realising it. I quickly withdrew it, panicking. What the hell was I thinking? I was stroking a stranger’s neck! Who the hell did that?

“I’m so sorry! I-I don’t know why I did that.” I stutter nervously. Dean was probably really annoyed at me. There was a really awkward pause in which he didn’t reply. He was probably trying to find the right way to phrase ‘you’re a psycho and I don’t want you to do my stitches anymore. I’d rather bleed out than have you touch me’.

“Don’t worry about it. I understand that I’m irresistible and that you couldn’t stop yourself from running your hands over me.” He finally said in a teasing voice and a grin on his face.

I was shocked. That wasn’t the reaction I had been expecting. I had thought he would call me a creep or something for stroking his tattoo, but he’d actually made a joke out of it. I couldn’t for the life of me figure out why but I decided to let it go.

“Watch it, buddy. I have a sharp pointy needle in my hand which I’m about to stick in to you, I’d be very careful about what you say to me, if I were you.” I said narrowing my eyes playfully at him.

“I’m terrified.” Dean said sarcastically. Smirking as he faked a shiver of fear.

“Yeah, you’d better be.” I said, nodding. Pretending that I believed his reaction was genuine.

This was fun. I wasn’t used to this casual joking back and forth conversation. My kind of humour wasn’t appreciated in amity. I tended to veer towards sarcasm and pointed remarks as jokes, which were often viewed as to ‘unkind’ by my faction members. This banter I was having with Dean was something I had been craving for years. A true release of my sense of humour. I felt free to say whatever I wanted and I knew that Dean wouldn’t be offended or think my words were too mean.

He could handle my kind of fun.

With a deep breath I returned my concentration to the task at hand. I lined up the needle, gave the wound one last wipe with cotton wool to get rid of the leaking blood and pushed the needle through. I didn’t want to give myself time to stop or even think about what I was doing, so after the first stitch, I just kept going.

It took twelve stitches to reach the end of Dean’s wound. I neatly sealed off the last stitch and cut the excess thread, just like I’d seen the doctors do with their patients. Once, I had put down the scissors and the needle I moved back slightly to admire my handiwork.

It wasn’t too bad, even if I did say so myself. The visible thread was minimal and the line was fairly neat. All in all, it wasn’t too bad for a first attempt. I couldn’t help the small proud smile that made its way onto my face.

I had done it. I had really just sewn up a deep wound.

“See, I knew you could do it.” Dean said, pulling me out of my trance.

“Yeah, I guess I could.” I say whilst staring at my sewing with a mixture of shock and a small amount of pride. I’ll be the first to admit that it wasn’t exactly the straightest line nor were the stitches exactly parallel, but they at least stopped the bleeding. Maybe he could get them redone properly by the doctors when the rush had gone past. Yeah he’ll probably only have them as temporary stitches while he waits for a professional to do them well.

“They’re pretty good actually.” Dean said whilst swinging and flexing his injured arm, testing out what he could and couldn’t do with them in.

“No, they’re crooked and the size of the stitches don’t really match.” I said frowning at my work. The longer I stared at them the more I noticed things that were wrong with them. I half wanted to rip them out of his arm and do them again. But they were only a temporary measure so it would be fine.

“What are you talking about? They’re fine.” He said frowning at me.

“No they’re really not. You can’t really see them properly from your angle. They aren’t right. But then the doctor can redo then for you shortly, so they’ll just have to do for now.” I said, still unsatisfied with my work.

“Wait, doctor? I’m not hanging around here for the doctor. I came for stitches. I got stitches. I’m leaving.” Dean said simply.

“But you can’t leave! These stitches are terrible and I’m not a proper nurse! I thought that you only wanted them for whilst you waited!” I was panicking. He was going to leave and then the stitches will come undone and then he’ll bleed to death and it’ll be all my fault. No, he has to have them done properly!

“They’re fine. They’ll do the job.” Dean said, he didn’t seem to get that I wasn’t good enough to give him lasting stitches.

“No they won’t! They’ll rip out easily, I know it.” I protested.

“Trust your work. They’re actually some of the best stitches I’ve ever had. And I’ve had a lot of stitches over the years.” Dean said. I know that he was only saying it to make me feel better about myself and to stop me from forcefully preventing him from leaving but it did make a small flutter of pride rise inside me.

“Really?” I asked in a small voice. I was half expecting him to laugh and say that of course he didn’t mean what he said and that he was only trying to shut me up, but he didn’t. He smiled at me reassuringly and nodded.

“I’ve had worse stitches from qualified doctors.”

A small laugh burst through my lips. Maybe Dean was right. Maybe I should trust my work. But the problem with that was that I couldn’t. I couldn’t trust my work to be good enough because I didn’t trust myself to be good enough. I wasn’t good enough for my parents to love so why would I think I’d be good enough to give life saving treatment?

Dean seemed happy with my work though and as he’d said he’s had experience with stitches before. He knows what he’s talking about. If he was satisfied that they weren’t going to rip out at the slightest movement, I should be satisfied too.

I couldn’t trust my own work, but I could put my trust in Dean’s judgment.

“Does this mean you are going to let me leave the building?” Dean asked hopefully.

“On one condition.” I said, holding up my index finger.

“Okay ...” Dean trailed off cautiously. He obviously didn’t want to commit to anything without knowing what it was but he also wanted to leave and he could see that I wasn’t going to let that happen until he’d agreed to my demands.

“You have to agree to come back and have them redone properly if ANYTHING goes wrong. Even if they only slightly rip.” I said sternly.

I was almost positive that if he actually stuck to this agreement he’d be back in here again tomorrow waiting for a doctor to sew him up again.

“Fine.” Dean sighed reluctantly whilst rolling his eyes. “But you should have more faith in your own abilities. They aren’t going to fall apart.”

“We’ll see.” I said, packing up the equipment I had used. I wanted to contradict him and say that they probably would fall apart and it wouldn’t take them long either, but I knew that Dauntless were stubborn. Dean wasn’t going to listen to me, no matter how many times I told him he needed to see a doctor. It was easier to just let it go.

“So now that I’ve promised, am I free to go?” Dean asked whilst standing up to his full height and slowly stretching out his injured arm.

“I guess so. Yeah.” I shrugged.

“Awesome.” Dean began to walk towards the exit of the hospital. “Thanks, Sophie!” He called out over his shoulder as he left the building and turned out of sight.

He called me Sophie.

He didn’t call me amity.

He remembered.