Dr. Griffin knew she shouldn't have a favorite patient, but she saw hers so regularly, it was impossible not to get attached to some more than others. Vera Kane was like a shining beacon of hope in the dreary nephrology ward. She was in stage 4 renal failure and had started dialysis a month ago. The woman had an energy about her, she brightened up every room she walked into, lifting the spirits of her fellow patients as they underwent their procedures. She was always waiting for Abby with a bright smile on her face despite the progression of her disease that made her weaker.

Today, however, Abby was waiting for her. She sat in the room, flicking through another patient's chart when the door opened and a tall man walked in followed by a frazzled Vera. The doctor set the chart down and rose to her feet. The man gave her a once-over before turning his attention back to Vera.

"My dear, I'm so sorry," she said, taking Abby's hands in hers. "Traffic was a nightmare and Marcus was late."

The man rolled his eyes and said, "I need to get back to work. I'll pick you up later."

Abby watched him go, catching a flash of dark metal at his hip under his leather jacket as he turned. The door shut with a snap behind him and she asked, looking at her patient, "Your son?" Vera nodded. "Are you not driving anymore, Vera?"

"My feet are so swollen, I can barely walk, my dear," Vera said, sitting down next to the machine. "Marcus was kind enough to agree to bring me on his lunch break."

"Forgive me, but he doesn't look too pleased with the arrangement," Abby said as she hooked up the first needle in Vera's AV fistula. Truthfully, this was a nurse's job, but Abby liked Vera so much, she did it herself. It allowed her time to chat with the woman.

When she looked at Vera, there was a small smile on her face.

"Marcus has always been difficult," Vera said simply as if that settled the matter. Abby smiled as she inserted the second needle.

It went like that for a while, Abby waited in the room and Vera was always late. She didn't mind, it allowed her time to catch up on paperwork, and the patient always apologized. She learned that her son was a detective and he normally wouldn't leave the station for lunch so it was hard to tear himself away from work to bring his mother three times a week to the hospital. Especially when it was a 37 minute round trip.

"It's wearing on him," Vera commented one day, 5 weeks after the arrangement had begun. Marcus had left abruptly, barely glancing at the doctor before slipping out the door after seeing his mother safely into her chair. "He would never say a thing, but this is hard for him."

"His captain is okay with him taking an hour from work so often?" Abby asked as she taped the second needle in place. She moved to the dialysis machine and began to set it.

"Oh it's not that, dear," Vera said with a smile. Abby glanced at her as she turned the machine on. "It's the whole disease. I think he's taking it harder than I ever did."

"You were diagnosed a year ago," the doctor said quietly.

Vera nodded. "He's stubborn. He still thinks there's hope for me."

"There is hope for you, Vera," Abby said seriously.

She reached out and patted Abby's arm softly, "That's the spirit, dear."


Abby spent the rest of the day seeing to other patients and left later than usual, around 6:30p.m. She knew Clarke had student council after school, then tennis practice, so she wasn't too worried about her — they would be getting home around the same time.

She was walking through the lobby when she spotted Vera Kane sitting in one of the chairs, silently reading a book. She glanced at her watch, making sure she had the time correct — Vera's dialysis finished over an hour ago. Abby turned and headed for her. Vera looked up at her approach and smiled, closing the Ram Dass book. Honestly, Abby expected her to be reading nothing else.

"Hello, dear," Vera said kindly as she tucked her book away in her oversized purse.

"What are you still doing here, Vera?" Abby asked, sitting next to her on the couch.

"It appears my son has forgotten about his old mother," she replied quietly.

"He's never done this before," Abby replied, frowning.

"No, this is very unlike him," Vera whispered, wringing her hands as she stared at the door.

"Have you called him?"

The woman smiled. "Of course, dear. He hasn't answered. I'm worried that something might have happened at work."

Abby nodded. "Well, how about we get you home, and try to call him some more?"

Vera stared at the door for a few more seconds before she nodded. Abby stood and offered her hand. Vera grasped it and Abby pulled her to a standing position with difficulty. The woman was getting weaker, she had noticed it weeks ago when Marcus was first forced to assist his mother into the room.

Abby kept her hand on Vera's elbow as she led her outside. She told her to wait on the bench as she pulled up her car. It was new, a red Ford Fusion Hybrid, and made her feel like she was truly leaving Los Angeles behind. Clarke had picked it out, claiming that it had to be eco-friendly because they were moving to Portland. Abby had just laughed but bought the car anyway, letting her daughter have her old Nissan.

She parked the car and got out, hurrying to Vera's side as she ambled to her feet. Abby grasped her elbow again, steadying her as she assisted her to the passenger seat. Once settled, she walked around the car and sat down.

"Where am I headed?" Abby asked, shutting the door.

"Sellwood," Vera said as she pulled out an ancient flip phone, dialing her son again. Sellwood was nearly 20 minutes away, she understood why this was wearing on the detective.

Vera kept dialing and didn't get an answer; Abby worried that she was going to twist her hands off, wringing them so much with her concern. She pulled into the driveway of the small, two-story cottage on SE Bidwell. Abby helped Vera to the door and as she unlocked it, Vera said, "I know it's a lot to ask, but would you mind checking on Marcus for me?"

Abby frowned, glad she was partially hidden in shadow by the setting sun. Any other patient, she would have said, 'no,' and gone home — this wasn't in her job description. Neither was driving patients home though and she had already done that. Reluctantly, Abby asked, "Where does he live?"

"NE Garfield, it's a yellow house," she said as she pushed open the door. "Wait a second, I have the address somewhere."

Abby stood on the porch, chewing her lip. She really didn't want to do this, but she couldn't stand the thought of Vera worrying over her son. She pulled her phone out of her purse and sent a quick text to Clarke telling her she was going to be late getting home.

"Thank you so much, Abby," Vera said upon returning and handing her the address. She grasped Abby's hands in her own and looked into her eyes. Vera had an unnerving way of calming someone, making them feel like an idea was their own. Abby had seen it many times when her dialysis appointments coincided with another patient's and they shared the room. She always put them at ease, make them feel like everything was going to be okay even if their outlook seemed grim.

Abby found herself smiling at her. She said, "I can't have my favorite patient missing her appointments."

Luck would have it, Marcus Kane's house was only a mile and a half from her own so she wasn't going too far out of her way. She pulled against the curb and looked at the three cars in the driveway. Someone's definitely home.

She cut the engine and climbed out of the car, walking up the concrete path. It was a cute Craftsman, not what she expected from the brash man who dropped his mother off like it was a chore.

The porch light was already on and she saw a shadow pass by the window to the right of the door, light from a tv reflecting in the pane. She climbed the steps and knocked on the oak door.

There was no answer. She glanced at the window and saw that the tv was still flickering in the pane, the shadow was still there. She turned back to the door and knocked again, louder this time.

A young man in his early twenties, with messy, dark hair and a constellation of freckles on his cheeks, opened the door after nearly a minute and Abby glanced at the street number above the door before meeting the man's dark eyes again. His eyebrow raised lazily as he asked, "Who the hell are you?"


Reviews are always welcomed and appreciated! Welcome to another long ride in the Kabby Trash Bin, my fellow Trash Babies. This is my first Modern AU ever and I'm super excited for it. Angst, hurt/comfort, and smut aplenty ahead! Welcome to another installation of Kabby Hell!

-Lauren