Oneshots, ideas and rejects.

Prison Break I

While studying, Deanna, or Dean as most people called her, had never expected herself to get a job, much less being able to pay her student loan debt so quickly after graduating. But she did both.

Having finished top of her class, Deanna's teachers expected her to become someone special. Like the person who would find the cure for cancer. But Deanna took her esteemed medical degree and landed herself in prison. In the medic wing, treating inmates of course, not as an inmate herself.

Funnily enough, despite her being used to treating nasty injuries, seeing blood and needles everyday, Deanna despised violence. And needles. God she hated needles.

"Dean are you ready for our one o'clock?" Sara asked poking her head into Dean's office with a small smile. "Yes, Dr. Tancredi." She answered signing the last couple of papers on her desk.

Sara smiled at Dean's good manners. She was always a ray of sunshine with a kind smile on her lips and easily one of Sara's favourite colleagues. Even the inmates adored her. "—Alright, a newbie, Scofield, type one diabetes, you'll be giving him his insulin shots."

"As in every time?" Dean looked at Sara somewhat betrayed, but the woman only laughed at her expression. "Consider it training, and therapy. He's a sweet one. I will only monitor you this one time to make sure you can actually do it. After that he'll be your responsibility." Dean shuddered at the mere thought of this daily task. "You've already met him?"

"Yesterday. He's very.. charismatic." Dean sighed at Sara's description. She'd dealt with many prisoners at Fox River State Penitentiary. None of them really scared her, none besides the 'charismatic' ones. The clever ones. The serial killers, the intelligent ones, the ones who looked at her like she she was a puzzle that begged to be solved.

-

"Trypanophobia." Scofield's eyes followed Dean as she walked around the room to prepare everything. She'd visibly paled when Dr. Tancredi had pulled out the syringes. "Excuse me?" She looked at him surprised.

"Trypanophobia. The fear of hypodermic needles, or needles used for medical procedures like injections and such." Dean held his gaze, her eyes never wavering. He was one of the intelligent ones. She could see it in his eyes. They were sharp, analysing her every move. But he didn't scare her.

"So, what did you do?" She asked without looking at him as she prepared the things for his insulin injection. He wasn't surprised she'd changed the subject. Michael watched her hands work quickly and with a certain accuracy that surprised him since she was visibly shaking every time the needle even neared her. "Bank robbery." He said simply.

"Oh." That surprised her. She'd expected a Zodiac-ish crime, but with a twist. Like he'd gotten bored and turned himself in or something. It was almost a bit disappointing.

Dean enjoyed making up stories for the different inmates she treated. And most even enjoyed hearing her small works of fiction as they got treated. "Alright, can you pull up your sleeve for me?" She asked politely. Michael did what she said, watching as she paled visibly picking up the syringe. "How can a doctor be afraid of needles?" He thought out loud. Dean's concentrated stare flickered up to him for a second before it went back to his arm. "I ask myself that same question everyday, please let me know when you find out. Take a breathe in for me please." She quickly and precisely stuck him with the needle as he breathed in, he noticed her breathing in as she injected him as well. It didn't hurt, and her hand didn't shake as long as that needle was in him. Which was reassuring. However as soon as it was out, she quickly threw it on the table with her right hand and put pressure on the microscopic puncture wound with a cotton ball with her left, her breaths small and shallow.