I hate doctors.

Yeah, okay, so it's a pretty stupid thing to hate, considering the abundance of hate-able vampires that keep cropping up in my life— except for the part where my imprint is part vampire, and therefore slowly but surely seeping away my hatred. Which would have seriously pissed me off, but...

Hello. Imprint.

And besides, much as I attempt to squash it down, there is (in very sad fact) a part of me— a small, insanely annoying and persistent part –that keeps pointing out that if a half-vamp is so wonderful, then it stands to reason that the full vamps just might be... y'know. Sort of… tolerable.

If I don't breathe and look away from their creepy perfect faces and cover my ears so I won't have to listen to their voices.

...but whatever. Like I said, incredibly small and annoying part that takes up less than five percent of my brain. The point is, I'm not about to burst into a song and dance number about the animal control livin' up in the crypt. (And don't think I haven't noticed the whole reluctance-to-call-them-leeches-and-bloodsuckers. I don't even know what's up with that, since Jacob's general greeting to Mind-Fucker is, "Yo, what up, leech?" Apparently I'm just the odd one out. As if I don't get enough of that.)

So, yeah. Even though Dr. Sparkles' never killed any humans— fun fact I learned from Seth, the walkin', talkin' vamp encyclopedia –I still reserve the right to hate him.

Because he's a doctor.

I don't have a good track record with doctors. At all.

When I went in for checkups back when I was little, my plan to get out of it was pretty much "scream to all holy hell," and it really wouldn't surprise me if I'd tried to stab the nurses back with their own needles. Mom told me she was worried my head would spin around and give her an instant replay of The Exorcist.

Basic summary?

I'm not good with doctors. In any way, shape, or form.

I'm telling all of this to Nahuel as we walk up the (really freakin' huge) yard. Mary, Grace, and Norah are only a little ahead, but completely busy talking to Jacob, thankfully. Or, well, I guess Grace is actually the one doing the talking, since Mary and Norah keep trading off on trying to peel her away from Jacob's arm. Which she has very effectively managed attached herself to.

Like a demented octopus.

I don't particularly care what they're doing, though, since it means they aren't here. Listening to me go Almost Totally Hysterical. (Yes, it does deserve capital letters, thankyouverymuch.) That can't be helpful for first impressions.

Besides, I'm working on the whole hysteria thing. I've already gone Completely Hysterical in front of Nahuel once today, and I don't plan on doing it again; hence, I keep veering randomly off track, trying to keep myself from focusing too much on the whole, "shit, we're almost there at the house" thing.

"I like Grace's hair," I inform him, watching it bounce as she walks. And attempting not to see the slightly-out-of-focus Crypt in front of her. "It's curly and awesome."

"It is like Father's," he answers calmly, as if he's unaware that just three seconds ago I was giving him my freakish medical history. "And mine."

"Your hair's curly?" I ask, completely surprised.

"When I take it down, yes, a bit."

"Huh."

Weird. I've never thought about what it'd be like out of his braid. (I had, however, thought that I had a thing for guys with ponytails, except... braids win out. Big time.) I look up at him, drawing my eyebrows together. "Hey," I ask suddenly, "what do you think your aunt'd do if somebody imprinted on her?"

It's not a random question, I swear. Obviously, it kinda seems that way, but it had some reasoning behind it. Some. The kind that just jumps into my mind fully formed, basically because of the fact that Embry is walking out of the doorway to the Crypt right in front of me, looking suitably disgusted and choking on air.

And also un-imprinted.

Nahuel stares at me, apparently contemplating the possibility. "That poor shape shifter," is what he finally says, suitably anguished. I laugh. Which is nice. I'd forgotten how much I liked to laugh. Embry hurries off to the edge of the woods, tugging the shirt he's wearing over his head as he goes, not sparing a glance to Nahuel's sisters. Hmm. Somebody's going to need to be introduced later.

I wonder what it says about me that I really, really hope Grace licks him.

"Miss Clearwater," Dr. Sparkles says, sitting behind his desk with his hands folded together like some fucking statue of Buddha. "It's a pleasure to see you again."

"I'd say the same thing, but... yeah, considering the circumstances, it's really not."

...Lying for the sake of politeness is for losers. I pick at a hole in my jeans, not meeting the doc's creepy gold eyes. Not that I would prefer them to be red or anything. Vamp eyes are just creepy in a general sort of way. Nahuel is sitting beside me, looking about ten seconds away from saying 'screw this chair' and sitting on the floor instead. He tends to like sitting on the floor rather than, y'know, actual furniture; random fact I've noticed. Yep.

I hear Grace shriek something in Spanish, all the way on the bottom floor, and possibly six hallways away (she's loud). Then Jacob yells what sounds like a completely horrified sentence, and then... the kid is laughing. Really loudly and dementedly. Awesome, Grace has transferred more of her DNA onto other people (things? –Not that I think of all the half-vamps as 'things.' The kid just annoys me. What three year old reads Romeo and Juliet? Which yes, sadly enough, I did see her reading a couple of days ago).

Nahuel shakes his head and murmurs an apology to the good doctor for Grace's "behavior." How exactly that's something he can help, I don't really know, but...

"Perfectly all right, Nahuel," Dr. Sparkles smiles. Damn, his teeth are pointy. Creeeepy. "They all seem very charming. I hope to meet them as soon as we have completed our meeting."

Ouch. Right back to the matter at hand, which makes me stomach drop into uncomfortable places. Fuck, I don't want to be here at all.

This is only the second story, I could bust out a window...

...No.

I decide, very suddenly, and probably about a good amount of time after I should have, that I am not going to be a pansy about this. I will sit up straight, I will answer all of Dr. Vamp's questions, and I will move on with my life. I will not show exactly how much I want to phase and run down to La Push and scream at the Elders about how could they do this to me, right when I was on the edge of finally being happy. I will not berate the doctor, I will do what he says, and I will get this over with.

I am not about to break down again, dammit. I'm not Mrs. Love Shield— I prefer to take my breakdowns per decade rather than per week.

I force my hands away from the hole in my jeans and cross my legs, going for the most composed look I can manage. What's that stupid saying our old drama teacher was always using? Fake it until you make it.

Luckily, I've always been good at faking.

(…But goddamn if I don't wish we'd stopped for a pack of cigarettes.)

I look straight at Dr... Cullen. Dr. Cullen. That's his name. Right. "What do you have to do?" I ask.

He shuffles a few papers on his desk, fixing nonexistent clutter. Ugh. "Actually, Miss Clearwater, the first thing my wife reminded me to inform you of is that I am not the only one in this house who has gone to medical school."

Um, okay? Why does that matter, again?

"If you wish it, either Edward, Rosalie, or I can perform your examination."

I answer before I can stop myself. Really.

"Fuck no, Mind-Rapist isn't giving me a gynecological exam!" I say loudly, clenching my hands over the arms of the chair hard enough to turn my knuckles white. Nobody says anything after that, Dr. Sp— Cullen just looks at me, but then... Nahuel starts laughing. I glance at him, horrified, and... blushing?

...What? No, I don't do blushing. I'm Leah Clearwater. I do not blush. That is for stupid teenage girls with thirty year old boyfriends.

...Except for that part where I'm technically nineteen and Nahuel is technically, like, a century and a half old.

Whoops.

"Shut up," I order him, crossing my arms over my chest and attempting to keep my back ramrod straight. "Pretend I didn't say that."

"Of course you didn't." But he's still smiling, so I can't really bring myself to be honestly mad. He's happy. That's good.

Dr. Cullen (saying his actual name seems... wrong, somehow. Go figure) raises one eyebrow at us. Why is it that everyone can do that but me? "Mh-hmm. I take it you would prefer Rosalie or I?"

"Yeah." I shift, uncomfortably. My legs are starting to itch, wanting to phase. I haven't done it since yesterday. "You or Blondie." It's... actually something I have to think about. Freaky. But Jacob told me about Blondie... about how she wants kids. And can't have them. So maybe she'd be— I dunno. More sympathetic? Not that I need sympathy or anything. Just— but what if I can? Have kids, I mean.

(Not that that's likely. At all. In any way.

…Gearing myself up for disappointment, much?)

She'd be pissed. Definitely pissed if the one other genetic freak who can't have kids actually can. (Like I will, though. Right).

But she's a chick.

...I really never though there would come a day when I would consider letting Rosalie Hale give me a gynecology exam.

Just the words in my mind make me want to gag. So I use my most formal voice (which kind of sucks, considering that I'm much more used to insults and sarcasm than formality) to say to the vamp doc, "You can do it. I— want you to." More than I want Mind-Rapist or Psycho-Barbie to. But there's no need to add that. I think.

Dr. Cullen nods. "All right. And when do you wish for the examination to take place?"

Never. That'd be great. But then Nahuel looks at me, and damn if he doesn't seem so concerned. Concerned about me. Since when has anyone been concerned about me? Not unless it was out of pity, and I could accuse him of that, but... I really don't think he does. I think, hanging around the Cullen's (who have so much pity for everyone that isn't part of their family), that he knows what being pitied is like.

Not fun.

So I bite my tongue and I keep staring at him from out of the corner of my eye, and I mutter, "Soon."

The lee... the doctor nods his stupid blond head.

"Soon."

a/n: Allrighty. Y'all know how I usually update on Sunday? Because I'm just habitual like that? Weeell, my laptop is sort of infected with all kind of crap viruses (wooh…) and my brothers' computer is just crap in general and won't let me update my stories. So posting a chapter requires using my mother's computer, which requires her… you know, not being here. So expect updating to start happening on Monday's instead (when her "job" leaves me alone for two and a half hours ;)).

…anyway. Blah, not much happens in this chapter. I guess it's just sort of a filler, since either the next chapter or the one after that will be Nahuel's POV again. Which I very much enjoy writing ;) Huge thanks to everyone who's reviewed. (And, just for the record, if you want to read some more L/N stuff, and you haven't read No Such Thing as Happily Ever After by dyingimmortal yet… you should. More multi-chapter, wooh! And very funny. Read iiit.)