Author's note: This is my first Kabby fanfiction, I'm SUPER nervous about this one, but also excited. And I know some of you aren't really into the theme but just trust me. Also, I played with this after my beta had a look so all mistakes are mine.

Pregnant.

Her eyes widened. No.

She blinked down at the stick in her hand, but the word didn't change.

No, no, no, no, no. She couldn't be!

It was absurd. She only had sex once in over a year! Once!

All right, so it may have been more than once that night but still. Abigail Griffin closed her eyes and took a deep breath through her nose, fighting back the nausea that threatened to overwhelm her. Whether the sick feeling was from her emotions or a symptom from her condition she didn't know. That wasn't what had led her down the aisle of the drug store the previous day. That she could thank the Outlet Mall for.

Monday, she found herself with some time before class and stopped by the Outlet Mall on her way to work. Vanilla almond milk latte in hand, she paused in front of the Coach store window. The new summer sale had hit and the expensive white duffle she'd had her eye on that was normally five hundred dollars was now two-fifty. With a smirk, she made her way inside, never one to pass on a good deal and she had been craving the retail therapy as of late so why not?

Later that day after class, she sat in her office before going home and transferred her things from her old purse to her new and that's when the thought first struck her. She hand emptied all the small things from the very bottom. Lip gloss, Chapstick, a nail file, hand sanitizer, and… a tampon. She took the last one in her hand and stared down it, mentally counting back the days, her eyes growing larger and larger until she realized that she skipped one period entirely and should have been due for her next two days ago.

To say, as she reached for the First Response, that it had been more out of curiosity than actually believing it could be real would be an understatement. She was getting older; she felt it more and more. Just having turned forty-one, she was ever aware of time slipping by, and even more now that she was alone…

Not so alone…

Pregnant.

"Mom," Clarke's voice called through the bathroom door. "Are you all right?"

"I'm fine, honey," she replied quickly hating herself for how weak her voice sounded.

God, Clarke. What was she going to tell her?

The truth, her mind whispered to her. You had a moment of weakness with her father's best friend and now you are going to pay for that weakness every day for the next eighteen years.

She covered her mouth with her hand. God, she was going to have to start all over again. She was going to have one kid in college and one in diapers. Tears flooded her eyes and she choked back a sob.

"Mom?"

Sniffing, Abby stuffed the stick back in the box and opened the bottom drawer of her bathroom counter, hiding the test in the back behind the first aid kit, boxes of Band-Aids, gaze, and antiseptics. Wiping the wetness from her cheeks, she placed her hands on her grey granite bathroom counter and looking at herself in the mirror, let out a soft sigh. Her eyes were red-rimmed, her face blotchy. She wouldn't be able to hide this from her daughter if she stepped out of the bathroom now.

"I'm fine, honey, just running late," she called out. Biting her bottom lip, she thought of a way to buy her some time. "Would you mind starting my coffee for me? I promised to meet with Jackson and take a look at his thesis before class."

"Sure." Her daughter's voice sounded skeptical, but thankfully, she didn't question her. "The vanilla or hazelnut roast?"

"The hazelnut will be fine."

She stood beside the door until she heard Clarke's footsteps on her hardwood floor leave her room and start down the stairs. Opening the door, she blew out a breath and made her way over to the bedside table near her still unmade bed and grabbed her phone. She may have been a doctor, but she couldn't very well examine herself. In the back of her mind, she knew she was overreacting. But there were risks associated with having children this late in life, and until she knew for sure that she was healthy enough to carry this pregnancy she wasn't going to make any kind of decisions.

Did she need to let the father know? Absolutely.

But not until she knew for sure that everything would be fine.

Unlocking her phone, she brought up the name of her friend and former colleague while thanking every God there was that the best friend she made in medical school just happened to be an OB/GYN and pressed the call button. Seconds that felt like hours passed as she waited for her to pick up, and when she finally did, Abby let out the breath she didn't realize she'd been holding.

"Hey, I'm glad it's you, I am having the worst morning-"

"Diana, are you working today?"

"Yes, why? Do you want to get lunch? If you do I'll rearrange my schedule, you won't believe what-"

"Actually, Diana," Abby interrupted, not because she didn't care about Diana's day but because she didn't have time to have this conversation with Clarke still in the house. The concern in her voice wasn't lost between the door separating them, and if Abby knew her daughter, she'd be back upstairs to check on her if she didn't go down soon. "I need an appointment… for me… with you."

"With me?" Abby could practically see the way her blonde friend's face probably scrunched up in confusion.

"I…" Abby trailed off as she crossed her room and closed her bedroom door as quietly as she could. "Do you remember I told you about who I went to go see a while ago…and," she swallowed and closed her eyes trying but failing to block out the images of that night, "what happened while I was there?"

"Who you went to go see?"

Abby let out a long sigh. "The Queen's Heid, Diana."

"Oh, okay…" Her friend laughed. "Now, I remember, but what has that got to do with…" There was a pause and Abby waited while it all clicked. "Oh my God, no." Diana must not have been alone because she lowered her voice and hissed, "Please tell me you're not?"

Sitting on the edge of her bed, Abby brought a hand up and rubbed her temple. "I wish I could, but the test I just took says otherwise."

"Son of a bitch, I'll kill that Marcus Kane," Diana said with a soft growl. She listened as her friend told someone in the background to pull up her schedule, then asked, "When can you get here?"

Abby blew out a breath. She should go to class. It was her one summer class she agreed to teach because she had nothing else to do. Clarke decided to get a summer job before going to college this fall and there was only so much gardening and reading she could do before she got restless. "I'm going to call and have Jackson start the lecture and hand out the notes. I can be there in an hour after Clarke leaves for work."

"All right, get here and I'll make it happen."

"Okay. Thank you, Diana." Pressing end, she gave herself one more moment to pull herself together before she had to go downstairs and act like nothing in her life had drastically changed.

If he didn't know any better, Marcus Kane would have thought his staff were trying to be the death of him. Four requests off during the last week of the World Cup. He tossed the yellow post-it's with names and dates scribbled on them onto his desk and rubbed his fingers over his eyes. Nice try, he thought, but there wasn't a chance in hell it was happening. They'd be packed all week, and if his cooks and best bartender thought they'd be doing anything but working, they had another thing coming.

Hell, even he was working, and he was the owner.

Not that he didn't trust his manager, Roan, but the younger man nearly got him fined last week for being overcapacity and he'd be damned if he let that happen again. It'd been years since he had to pull strings with the Seattle's fire chief, and thank God Jaha owed him a favor because to say the captain had been reluctant to cut Marcus a break would be putting it mildly.

The animosity between him and the older man had been on a knife's edge since Saint Patrick's Day when he accused Marcus of setting off a display of fireworks. It hadn't been him, but it was outside of his pub and he had known those responsible. Captain Pike reminded Marcus how the possession and use of fireworks in Seattle were banned and considered a gross misdemeanor. Jaha had saved his arse on that one, too as there was no proof Marcus was the one responsible.

The last thing he needed was that old walloper breathing down his neck another week.

With a sigh, he dropped the tentative schedule he'd been working on down on his desk and reached for his phone. His mouth slipped down into a frown a moment before he tossed the phone on the desk along with the papers.

No missed calls. No messages.

Just call her you bawbag, his mind pleaded with him for what must have been the hundredth time in the last few weeks.

But he had already done that. A week after she'd come to him, after their night together, when he couldn't take it anymore he called to ask how she was and dared to hope the night they shared wasn't a one-off thing because God help him he didn't want that to be the end.

His hopes, however, were dashed when she told him she needed more time. She wasn't saying no, but she wanted time to think about things. He, of course, agreed to wait until she was ready. He'd wait as long as it took.

He just wished it wasn't taking quite so long…

Just then the door to his office burst open, and he looked up to find his daughter dressed in her football uniform (and yes, he would call it football until his dying day because soccer was just an insult), her dark eyes narrowed in his direction.

"Why are you just sitting there?" she asked with all the patience of a teenager. "My practice is in twenty minutes."

A smile tugged at his lips, and getting to his feet, he reached up and took the extra set of keys he had made for her from the shelf above him. Tossing them across the room, she caught them easily enough. Her dark hair was pulled up into a high ponytail, so it was easy to see the surprise in her expression.

Her eyebrows rose. "Seriously?"

He nodded. "Seriously. I thought you'd like to drive yourself this time."

Eyes widening, she rushed toward him, and he had just enough time to prepare himself from being knocked back when her arms wrapped around his shoulders. "You're the best dad ever!"

Marcus chuckled as she released him. Her face was alight as she clutched the keys to her chest. While he was confident in her driving, he still held out a finger. "To practice and back. No taking your friends home, no going to the mall, no going to see him."

He may as well have given his warning to the wall because his words did nothing to dampen her spirit. "He has a name, Dad, but I promise, only the practice and back."

"I'm trusting you, Octavia, to be smart..." he let his words trail off there. He didn't need to finish his thought. She would remember Bellamy's reckless start to his driving years that included four speeding tickets and had his privileges revoked not by the state but by him for over a year just as well as he.

Her shoulders fell and she gave him a look that clearly said to him I'm not that stupid. "And risk a summer at home with no driving privileges at all? No thanks."

That's my girl. Shaking his head, he waved a hand toward the door. "You better get going."

She gave him another glowing smile and turned, practically danced out the door, nearly colliding with his day bartender, Echo, in the hall.

Echo raised a brow at him. "You finally gave her the keys, huh?"

Marcus stepped out into the hall, standing and watching with the young woman as his daughter left. "She's ready."

"She may be," Echo said, nudging him with an elbow, "but are you?"

His chest tightened thinking how quickly time passed. Turning toward her, he gave her a sad smile, and muttered, "They have to grow up sometime, I suppose."