Come for the accent, stay for the existential crisis.

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"Black jeans, white tee, black converse, you know she gets it right!" I sing.

"Ow," the boy whimpers in pain.

Not by my singing, by the fact that he has a rusty screw going right through his hand.

"It'll hurt, Love. But try and calm down, okay? Here, hold my hand, you can use it to squeeze if you get in too much pain." I say, offering my hand while getting everything ready with my other one.

"Thanks, Tris," he says, his green eyes contorted with pain.

"No problem," I say.

I get the disinfectant and some other things that I will need and I look him in the eyes.

"You need to stay calm. You need to take deep breaths and keep as still as possible, this will hurt, but it will hurt even more if you don't stay still." I tell him.

"Can you sing to me?" He blurts out.

I was taken aback for a minute but after I recover I just smile at him.

"Sure what song?"

"Do you know that song, uh, you were singing it all day the other week," he says trying to remember.

"This is gospel?" I offer.

"That's it!" He says with a smile. I smile warmly back.

"Sure," I say, then clearing my throat.

"This is gospel for the fallen ones, locked away in permanent slumber. Assembling their philosophies, with pieces of broken memories," I sing while concentrating on pulling out the screw from his hand.

I see him beginning to panic so I start singing again. Ignoring the faint pain in my hand due to him squeezing it so hard.

"Oh ah oh oh oh oh oh, this is the beat of my heart, this is the beat of my heart. Oh ah oh oh oh oh oh, this is the beat of my heart, this is the beat of my heart," I sing as I slowly and carefully finish pulling out the screw and begin to disinfect the wound.

"If you love me let me go,
If you love me let me go,
'Cause these words are knifes and often leave scars, the fear of falling apart. Truth be told I never was yours, the fear the fear of falling apart."

I continue to sing as I work my magic and clean and bandage up the wound. After I finish, George smiles in relief even though I know he's still in pain.

"Thank you, thank you so much," he says in a horse voice.

I look up at him and I see he has tear stains running down his face. I wipe away his tears and smile.

"That's my job, George, saving lives one day at a time," I joke and he chuckles a little.

"Tris, it's your lunch break," Jeff says, popping his head through the door.

I didn't want lunch, but I knew I had to. For the baby. I sigh and slip on a smile.

"Alright, I'll head over to get something to eat as soon as I'm done here with George," I tell him and he smiles before disappearing.

"You okay?" George asks.

"Never better," I lie.

"I should be alright now, thanks, want to get food together? Since you're heading there anyway?"

"Sure," I say.

We both get up and walk to get food. We walk in and many conversations come to a halt as they see me with George. Nobody yet knows about the baby but they do know about me and Newt.

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