AN: Hehe, call me morbid, but I had this thought in the middle of my test over Romeo and Juliet. (Somewhere between matching "Soft, what light through yonder window breaks" to Romeo and defining a pun.) It was "haunting" me all day and I decided what the heck, why not? So here you go.

Disclaimer: I don't own Twilight

I had never precisely known what I wanted to be when I was grown, that was true. I had initially thought of something along the lines of Literature or History, maybe. Perhaps a major in English literature?

And then reality, and Charlie, set in, and he convinced me that there was no way to make a living with a history major. So, I did what it seemed like everyone else did: I decided on a field in medicine. I, however, added a twist sure to make me stand out from the rest. I attended the Gupton College of embalming in Olympia. It was close enough that I could commute to Forks on weekends to visit Charlie, but far enough away to afford me a bit of independence.

So that brings us to where we are now. Which would include me hovering above a naked body. It was 2AM, and I was still rubbing the sleep out of my eyes. A disadvantage to this job: I can't control when people die.

I grabbed the clip-board to my right and tapped my pen…

Emmett McCarty Cullen, I copied, 24. I surveyed the body for any discoloration or bruising, and finding none made a note of it. The man looked happy, at peace, it almost seemed like he was smirking. In fact, this Emmett was the finest specimen of dead flesh I had seen so far.

I blushed immediately, and could not believe I had been thinking such things about a dead man. I turned from the body to grab the cleanser. It was in a convenient spray bottle, so as not to force any more contact than necessary. I sprayed it silently over the man and mused about his life. Did he have a wife? Kids? What was his profession? Did he have siblings that were in mourning at this instant?

I sighed heavily and grabbed the next item on the list. In this case it was a massage cream, serving two purposes: to relax the stiff muscles and to clean the body completely. I scanned the shelf for it, and having found it turned back to the body.

I started on the neck, rubbing it in to the skin roughly, though I found it wasn't as stiff as I was expecting it to be. How odd. He was freshly dead, though.

I was so intent on my work that it took a few moments for something to occur to me. Was that a …noise? I paused and strained my ears. It was. It had a metallic ring to it…and it sounded near. I spun on my heel and looked around the underground room. It was lit by fluorescent bulbs and had a medicinal, sterile look to it. Nothing was moving that I could see. I turned back to the body…and froze.

I had located the tapping noise. The body. It was tapping its finger, ever so slowly, on the steel embalming table. I froze and my heart skipped erratically. My mouth hung open and my brain stopped. And then the tapping stopped. I breathed again.

Surely I was imagining it. Dead bodies do not move. A trick of my imagination, from lack of sleep, I told myself firmly. Yet still, my breathing wasn't quite normal, and the hairs on my arm and neck rose on end.

All kinds of gruesome thoughts entered my mind, and I had to forcibly focus my mind on other things. I took a deep breath, and thought of drinking a large mug of tea and watching a good Alfred Hitchcock movie.

Now it was time to break the rigor mortis. I went to stand behind the man's head, facing his pale toes. I put my hands on either side of his head and started rotating the head to loosen the muscles. His hair was soft and curled gently around my fingers, catching the light as it moved.

I exhaled firmly through my nose, dispelling any stray thoughts from my head, and moved toward his arm. I flexed it firmly, pulling it away from his body. A movement caught my eye. It was his head.

The head of this dead man was moving back and forth steadily, still, of its own accord. I froze for the second time. This was no trick of my imagination. I watched in horrid fascination as his head stopped moving. A surprisingly delicate cough resounded through the room. He shook his head, brandishing his curls and smiled, opening his eyes.

He sat up, slowly, agonizingly slowly, and I still could do nothing but watch. He arched his back and I heard the vertebrae crack. He looked at me and tilted his head to the side, in a decidedly childlike manner.

His tawny eyes glinted and locked with mine. "Hello," he said, "My name is Emmett." My mouth dropped open, and I felt as though my lungs were being squeezed by a vice. Both of our gazed dropped to his arm, which my hand was still firmly holding on to.

"I would rather appreciate it if I could have my arm back." He grinned again, and I dropped his arm like it was lead.

He coughed again and stretched, standing finally, while I quaked in my corner. He surveyed the room. His countenance brightened and he skipped to where his clothes lay neatly folded. He dressed and walked to the door. With his hand on the knob he stopped and turned back to me.

He gave a cheery wave and a laugh and ran up the steps.

By all rights I should have collapsed on the floor, dead from heart failure, but I did exactly the opposite: I followed Emmett up the steps, sprinting. I hid behind the door frame and watched him walk slowly away with a fair haired man of a similar height.

"You should have seen it, Jasper! The look on her face!" They both laughed and jogged to the door, still chuckling.

"Hey," the one called Jasper said, "make sure you don't think anything about this in front of Edward. You know he-"

Their conversation trailed off as they ran out of the door and down the street. The shock finally set in. I collapsed on the middle of the floor, panic and horror finally taking over my mind.

What the hell was up with an obviously dead man walking and talking?

AN: So…what did you think? I can totally see Emmett doing that, and Edward freaking out…and Rose freaking out…and Carlisle freaking out. Which will of course be featured in upcoming chapters.

D