A/N: This is an important chapter (and pretty long by my standards), so I hope the wait was worth it. I was VERY meticulous about this one, and that's only going to get worse from here out, so bare with me. I promise I plan on finishing this story though!

ENJOY! I tried really hard to make it good!

Chapter 06 – Week 6, Pt. 1

Sam really, really didn't want to be where she was. Seriously, it had been almost-literally painful just to touch the freaking door to walk into the place. But despite how badly she wanted to turn around and run, she knew that being there would be the only way she would be able to enjoy bacon ever again. Her inability to hold down any type of delicious meat was getting on her nerves, and, if only for that reason (and she refused to give herself any other reason), she was at this sterile-smelling doctor's office, listening to the stupid clock on the wall tick as the seconds passed.

When the nurse called her name and led her to a random room in the back of the office Sam sat down on the noisy paper-covered seat and looked around nervously.

"Give Dr. Helen about five minutes and she'll be right in." The nurse smiled and Sam didn't even bother to try and fake-smile back. She was too busy focusing on keeping her lunch down.

The wait in the small room alone was worse than the first one in the main office. There wasn't even a freaking clock to keep her distracted. The silence was swallowing her up: she wanted to leave. She was sixteen, not thirty, and alone at this stupid doctor's office to find out if she really was pregnant and if the stupid test she had taken was wrong. Although it pained her to admit it to herself, store-bought tests could be wrong.

She was seconds from ditching the joint when the doctor walked in. She looked about forty, with gray roots scattered through her sandy blonde hair. As soon as she walked in she plastered on a smile and started talking in one of those 'I'm-being-nice-because-I'm-being-paid-to-be' voices.

"Hello, Samantha, it has been quite a while since you've been here last," she said with an edge to her voice that made Sam smirk. No doubt they were both remembering the Tetanus shot experience where the doctor had left with a major bruise on her upper thigh from a (literally) kicking-and-screaming Sam.

"Right, I forgot about that doc." Sam's smirk didn't fade.

"That makes one of us, then…" Dr. Helen shook her head and took a seat in her rolling desk chair in front of the computer.

"So, Sam, what brings you in here today?" And then Sam's smirk fell right off of her face.

"I've been sick lately. Like… I had the flu. But then it went away, and then I got a cold, but that went away, too, and now I have the flu again…" Sam looked down at her feet, which she was swinging against the bed/chair thing, making a steady 'thump' noise that was helping her relax.

"Any pain?" The doctor picked up her clipboard and a pen, ready to mark stuff down on the paper secured in it. Sam stared at the pen, knowing that as soon as the information was written down she couldn't un-say it. She was sealing her deal.

"Yeah… uh, stomach cramps, headaches."

"How frequently?"

"Well my stomach usually right before I throw up. That's been happening about once a day… at least. And my headaches when I'm tired, which is also pretty often."

"Have you been having trouble sleeping?"

"Yeah, for about a month now. I sweat a lot, which is pretty gross, but I'm cold so I don't know…" She let the words die off and watched as Dr. Helen just wrote everything down nonchalantly, like this couldn't change her entire life.

"How have your eating habits been?"

"I don't know… weird. I eat a little less than before. Or I just throw up all of my favorite foods. Which sucks," she added with a shrug, because it really did suck. The doctor smiled slightly, but then went back into serious-face mode.

"Are you sexually active?"

"Uh… not lately… I-uh," she stuttered (like a pansy, Sam couldn't help but think). "I mean, about a month ago I did but not since then."

"Okay, and when was your last period?" Doctor Helen looked up at her at this question, and Sam's face must have lost some color because the doctor's expression changed slightly.

"Sam-,"

"Like three months ago or something," Sam cut off whatever doctor-y thing she was about to say and rushed the words out. She didn't like talking about this kind of stuff to begin with, and now this was happening and gahh!

"Did you take an at-home pregnancy test?" Doctor Helen's voice had become all soft-like and Sam narrowed her eyes in annoyance. She didn't need to be treated like some basket-case girl who was about to break down sobbing.

"Yes about three weeks ago. And it was negative," she said harshly, not meaning to sound as angry as she did. Oh well.

"Okay," she replied nicely, and didn't bring that up again. Rather, she stood up and took a few steps towards Sam, reaching forward and putting her cold hands against her neck, pushing around gently. She stopped that after a moment and then asked Sam to lift her arm and felt under her arm in the same way. She did the same with her chest, feeling around her breasts, which was pretty awkward, but Sam didn't protest. When she finished she made a few notes on the clipboard.

It all took about thirty seconds, but Sam felt like she was missing something important. "What're you writing?"

"Well a few of your lymph nodes feel a bit swollen, but that can be caused by a number of things."

"Like what?" Sam asked impatiently, her foot tapping anxiously.

"I don't want to speak too soon, Sam, it could be nothing at all. Or it could be due to the cold you had last week, or the stomach flu."

"Oh." Sam was totally discontent with the answer, and she was pretty sure that it showed all over her face.

"I think we should do a blood test, and in a day or two we'll get the results and see what is wrong, if anything. My best guess is that you contracted a stomach infection that lowered your immune system and caused you to be more susceptible to the common cold. If that is the case, I could start you on an antibiotic. I would rather wait to see the results of the blood tests first, however, as I try not to over-prescribe antibiotics. For now I can write you two prescriptions, one for anti-nausea and a mild sedative that should help you sleep while we wait for the test results."

"Could I be pregnant?" Sam blurted out, not really caring about anything she just heard.

"That is a possibility, yes, but I wouldn't jump to any conclusions just yet. You have other symptoms that have nothing to do with pregnancy." Doctor Helen's hand patted Sam's knee in comfort but all Sam could do was sit there and stare at the wall opposite of her. The doctor had said 'yes' somewhere in that sentence, and that was all that mattered to her.

Sam didn't speak as the doctor stuck a needle in her and stole some blood. Usually she would put up at least a little fight, to prove that she was in control of the blood-taking process, but at the moment she didn't care about anything other than knowing the results of the stupid test.

The rest of the appointment was a blur, where Doctor Helen said something about calling her, and then wrote her a prescription.

All Sam knew was that this was going to be the longest two days of her life, and she was very happy to have those sleeping pills to help the time pass quicker.

She was right – the next two days were torture by impatience. While she was graced with a wide variety of talents – which included but were not limited to punching, winning arguments, and eating food – patience was not one of them. Usually Sam prided herself on being unlike the majority of adolescents who would, more often than not, be seen with a phone basically glued to their hands. The past two days, however, Sam had turned into one of those average teenagers.

"Expecting to hear from that special someone still?" Carly sang the words playfully.

"Special someone?" Freddie asked quickly, looking like he regretted it the moment it slipped out.

"She's been checking her phone like a madman for the past two days. Obviously she's got the hots for someone, otherwise that ancient thing would be lost somewhere like usual." Carly had been convinced that Sam was expecting some prince charming to call her, and Sam decided that allowing her to believe that was much better than the truth. So rather than correct her misguided assumption, Sam had neither disagreed nor agreed with it. Until now.

"No there's not, Carly," Sam said sternly, and spared Freddie a quick glance.

"Why else would you be so attached then?" Carly said with the same sing-songy voice, obviously not believing a word of Sam's claim.

"I applied for a job and am waiting for a call back," she said the first thing that came to her mind, and it turned out to be pretty stupid. Carly looked skeptical and Freddie was actually laughing.

"You? Work? Ha! I'd like to see you with a boss," Freddie said through his chuckling.

"It's at a butcher shop," Sam said defensively, trying to convince them it was true.

"Sure," Freddie said sarcastically, still smiling.

"Hey! I'd be a great butcher, I-,"

But she didn't finish the sentence, because at that moment her phone began to buzz. Her train of thought failed completely and her eyes stared at the caller ID: Executioner (a nickname Sam deemed appropriate). She stood up quickly, falling over herself in the process, but was out of the room in seconds.

"Hello," she said into the phone, completely monotone.

"Hi there, Sam, this is Doctor Helen," her sweetly sick voice came out of the phone and Sam clenched her jaw in annoyance. Obviously, you idiot.

"Yeah I kind of got that." Sam didn't bother to hide her contempt. Dr. Helen didn't seem fazed, and continued on with that voice of hers.

"I'd like it if you could come into the office tomorrow with your mom in order to discuss those test results."

"Tell me now, can't you?" Sam asked quickly, wanting to get this done and over with. Besides, didn't having to go in mean it was bad news? They were going to talk about plans and options and… Holy chizz her life was over.

"I think it would be best if you came into the office. With your mom." She sounded as if she was choosing her words carefully, but a new edge-thing had made its way into her voice. Like she was upset or something.

Of course, that didn't matter because Sam's mind was racing with thoughts and she hardly even heard what Dr. Helen had said.

Baby. Pregnant. Life over. Freddie. Mini-Sam. Pink. Blue. Diapers. College. Bills. Money. Life. Her life was over. Her life was over.

"Sam? Are you still there, Sam?" Dr. Helen's voice was loud in her ear and she managed to let out a choked noise as a reply.

"Sam, you need to tell me a time that you and your mother will be here tomorrow." Now her voice was slow and deliberate, as if she were talking to a five year old. She must have sensed that Sam was having a mini-panic attack thing.

"I don't know. She works all day tomorrow, she can't come." Sam managed to say the words, even though she knew it wasn't true. Her mom worked nights.

"Sam it is very important that she come in with you."

"Why? It's none of her business," Sam spat into the phone in disagreement. The last thing she needed was her mom to find out about all of this. This mess.

"Your mother is the policy holder on your insurance, plus you're a minor so that is technically besides the point. She needs to be here in order to discuss the next steps to-," Dr. Helen stopped talking suddenly and let out a frustrated sigh. "I will call her myself, Samantha."

"No! I don't want her knowing; she's going to kill me. Isn't there some doctor-patient confidentiality thing you're not allowed to breach? I'll sue you!" Sam was talking out of her ass, repeating words she had only heard on television.

"That doesn't apply to minors, Sam, and she won't be mad at you. I think you may be confused."

"Confused about what? There's nothing to be confused about! My life is over and I've turned into my mother. No. I'm worse than my mother. She was at least nineteen when she had me!"

"Sam! You are not pregnant!" Dr. Helen said resolutely.

Sam stopped short, because she was about to continue on her rampage. But now she didn't have to: her life wasn't over anymore.

"Oh."

"Yes. Now, please tell me a time you and your moth-,"

"Wait, if that's not it then what's wrong with me? Why do you need my mom? Can't you just write me a prescription like you did with the sleeping stuff?" Sam interrupted the doctor, very confused and very much wanting to know what was going on. Something told her this was bad, the doctor calling her like this and asking her mom to show up. She suddenly got the chills, getting the inkling that something was actually wrong with her.

"Tell me what's wrong." And it wasn't a question, because she was going to get an answer now or else there would be a bloody mess to clean up at the doctor's office.

"Sam it would be best for you-,"

"Don't tell me what you think is best for me! Tell me what's wrong with me." Her voice was venomous and she was eager to know. After a month of being sick she deserved an answer. Now.

And to her surprise, the doctor actually gave her one.

"There is a possibility that you have cancer."