A/N: Okay, I'm just gonna get this done with. My older brother's dead. I don't really know what happened, but I know that he was stabbed while walking his girlfriend back to her apartment building at like three in the morning. He was in the hospital for a while, but he finally passed on the 16th of May, 2011 in the early morning at the age of 20 years. His funeral was last Monday and I really haven't wanted to touch the computer or even my iPod because one of the things we had in common was our love of technology and how quickly we always adapted to the changes and how great we both were with anything electronic and even now I'm kinda hating this because he was the one who convinced my parents to get me the laptop I'm typing this on and I don't know. Like I said, I really don't want to do this, but both my therapist and psychiatrist think that it would help me move on, you know, get some normalcy back. I still can't touch my iPod, though. I know a lot of you won't understand how big of a deal that is, so let me give you some perspective. When I was thirteen, the school I was attending suggested I see a psychologist. After two sessions, she called my parents in and told them to never take away my iPod. They can take away my phone, my computer privileges, my tv, my friends, but never take away my iPod because it is the one thing that I would go to if I was in the middle of a suicide crisis. And that holds true to this day, my iPod is my crutch. I haven't even looked at the thing in thirteen days. I've decided that I'm going to start Cherry v. Lime in honor of my brother, because the character Hugh is based solely off of him.

Briana awoke the next morning to the smell of freshly brewed coffee wafting through her slightly open bedroom door. And in the midst of her 'just-woke-up' confusion, she clambered out of bed and hobbled to the kitchen, expecting to see one of her parents and a box of doughnuts like she did every Saturday morning back home. She wiggled into one of her bar stools and slowly opened her drowsy eyes, starting her visual search for the glorious fried and glazed dough she loved so much. She found none. Sad.

After the blatant lack of what would have been the perfect breakfast, Brea decided that something wasn't right and forced herself into full consciousness. First thing she noticed as the coffee. There was no scent of vanilla or caramel like how her mom and dad drank it, it was just straight black. The second was the tall, thin man searching her cabinets. She almost laughed, but she was too tired to muster up anything other than a smile and a small question.

"Need something?"

Spencer nearly jumped out of his skin while he whipped around and stared at her in shock.

"Spence?" She asked as he continued to stare, "Are you broken?"

"What? Oh, uh no, no. Sorry." He smiled meekly, "Uh, I was wondering where your coffee mugs were, actually."

"Left of the microwave." She pointed towards the door.

"Thanks." He smiled as he moved to the cabinet and pulled out a mug. "Do you want some?" He asked, referring to the brew he was pouring himself.

She smiled at him, "No thanks, I never had a taste for coffee."

His brows knotted.

"Then why do you have it?"

"For situations like this."

"What?" He laughed, "For people who break into your apartment at seven in the morning?"

"I like my robbers to feel at home, thank you."

He chuckled and shook his head, placing the small pot back under the brewer.

"Can you tell me if I have any cereal, please?" Briana requested after he took a few sips of the dark brown liquid that he had just caked with sugar.

"Nope." He told her, "You're not supposed to eat before getting an X-ray." (I know its BS, just humor me)

Getting a-

"Ooooh yeah." She summered.

"Did you forget?" Spencer jokingly accused.

"Of course not."

"Mhmm."

"Damn Skippy." She shouted, jumping down from the bar seat and hopping into the kitchen. She braced the heels of her hands onto the counter top behind her and hoisted herself up onto the slab of granite.

"So," She started, a small grunt accompanying it when her butt made an abrupt contact with the counter, "How exactly did you get into my apartment? Or did you leave the door unlocked last night so anyone could get in?"

"A magician never reveals his secrets," He said simply, "And I would never put you in that kind of danger."

"Good to know," She laughed, "So when is the appointment?"

"11:30am"

She looked at the oven clock. 7:27 am.

"Why are you here so early?"
"Have you ever been to the hospital?"

"No."

Spencer laughed and set his mug on the counter next to him, walking over and helping Briana off of the counter.

"That explains it." He chuckled as he grabbed hold of her waist, lifting as she semi-jumped. Her hands loosely wrapped around his neck while he gently lowered her to the ground. It felt good to touch her. Too good considering he probably won't be able to do it again for a long time. "Go get ready, we have to go soon."

"Why?" She asked timidly.

"You'll see."

"Spencer."

"Hm?"

"It's 10:25am."

"And?"

"We got here at 8am."

"And?"

"I'm not done with the paper work yet."

"Yup."

"Why!"

"Because it's a hospital." He smiled.

Briana sighed and fell back into her chair; lazily filing out what she hoped was her final form. Tapping her fingers against the cold, metal clipboard, Briana realized that Spencer was not joking, this shit takes forever.

"Ms. Parker?"

Briana looked up at the pink-scrubbed nurse who wore a warm smile.

"Dr. Shepard is ready to see you."

"Thank you." She smiled as she stood from her seat, tugging on Spencer's shirt as a signal for him to follow. He obliged without question and the two followed Pinky down the hall and into a very hospital-y room.

"He'll be with you shortly."

"Thank you." Both Spencer and Briana replied.

The door closed with a click and Briana crawled onto the paper-covered bed while Spencer took refuge in one of the plastic chairs against the wall. They were silent for a few minutes; the crinkling of the paper under Briana's fidgeting the only sound in the room. Neither knew what to say. Briana was worrying for reasons that Spencer didn't know and didn't know how to handle and Briana didn't know if he was still upset about last night.

Finally, one of them spoke.

"Why did you want me to come with you?"

Briana glance at the man slouching in a plastic blue chair and studied his face. Did she really want to tell him? Could she even explain it right?

"I don't like being alone with doctors." She started self-consciously, thoroughly examining the beige walls and jar of tongue depressors in an attempt to avoid eye contact.

"Any reason why?" He urged softly. It was a curious thing to be afraid of, that's for sure.

"I don't really know." She admitted, now entirely visually engaged with her one pink and black Asics tennis shoe, "I've just always hated it. There's too much pressure, I guess. It's like, they ask you a question, but it's a really vague question and I don't know how to answer it and I'm just like 'For God's sake, man, just tell me what you want to freaking hear!' And then of course they know you're wound up, so they try to covertly calm you down, which just gets me more wound up and…I don't know. I guess I just like having the moral support, you know?"

Not a clue. "Yeah, I know what you mean." He smiled, even though it was a total lie. He could only guess that her fear of doctors was like his fear of public speaking, of being judged. Only with the doctor, it was more personal, more one-on-one, and face-to-face. So yes, actually, he did kind of understand what she was talking about.

"Miss Parker?"

The two simultaneously looked at the door and saw a young man (probably 30-35) with red hair and a light complexion leaning in the archway.

"That's me." Briana replied innocently with slight quiver in her voice and a shaky smile. She was nervous, that much was clear. And after their conversation ten seconds ago, Spencer knew why. But it appeared the doctor had other ideas.

"I'm Dr. Shepard." He smiled coyly, his green eyes gleaming as he reached out to shake her hand. Briana took it gently and the way the doctor lingered did not go unnoticed by Spencer.

He hated this guy already.

A/N: I know the actual chapter it's self is a few words short of my normal +1200, but I've been typing five different stories for three different groups of people all day and I'm about to f^^king snap and throw this f^^king computer at the f^^king wall it I see one more f^^king squiggly line! I'm not in a good mood. I should have the first chapter of Cherry v. Lime up tonight, if not than by tomorrow afternoon (my time, of course). Sorry for the long wait, I'll try to update sooner.