A/N::: I actually just had this sitting in my documents, an idea I had (apparently) a while back ago. It's a start, isn't it?

Enjoy and review!

CH. 1

Abortion?

Cammie pov

I stare down at my deformed six pack abs, afraid of what they'll become in the next nine months. I can see a little lump forming, but it wasn't obviously noticeable; it just looked like I put on a few pounds (which isn't very enticing, either).

"Damn you Zach Goode," I mutter, cursing the father of my child. I was only twenty-three and the peak of my career. Zach and I had gotten married when I was twenty-one. It may seem weird, swearing on God to spend the REST of my life with him at an early age, but in the spy world, time is a luxury that we aren't guaranteed. Ever since then, we'd only been six months apart, at the most, but other than that, we've been together most of the time.

He was away now on a two week mission but he was returning today, in about three hours and thirty-five minutes.

He doesn't know if you're wondering. I barely found out yesterday after puking my guts out in the toilet and have been hyperventilating and freaking out ever since. I don't want to have a kid, honestly. It's way too soon, and I still have the rest of my life to have a kid. But now there was no avoiding it. Apparently we weren't careful enough, and now I was stuck with a lump in my stomach.

Maybe I was being too calm about it; or maybe I just didn't care, but this kid was not something I had planned. When I was thirteen I had mapped out my life; 18-23, travel around the world on missions and exploit at LEAST thirty drug dealers, 24-26, try and find someone to get together with (apparently that was moved down), 27-30, live a happy carefree life, 31-40, slow down a bit on life but still get a kick out of ruining diabolical plans and risking my life.

Now, where, on that short list, did you see HAVE CHILDREN WITH ZACH GOODE? Nowhere, that's where. Because I did not plan it! I wanted to grow old, kick some ass and enjoy a husband, but nope. Apparently, fate had other plans.

I walk up to the wall length mirror next to me and examine my profile. "Oh god," I whisper. "I'm fat." I realize now that I was over dramatizing. The sweats I wore hid the bump, but the muscle shirt of Zach that I wore outlined it more. It was only noticeable if you were looking at it, though.

"How am I going to tell him?" I mutter, pacing. I stop, suddenly feeling feverish. "Oh god!" I put a hand to my mouth and run to the bathroom. I barely make it before spewing my guts out. At the very least, I knew I had just lost a few pounds.

I manage to avoid any topics concerning my health through his arrival, but sitting here, watching him make dinner, I suddenly become interested in playing my own thumb-war with my own thumbs.

"So Cammie how were you while I was in Pakistan?" he glances away from the stove, stirring the vegetables subconsciously as he looks at me, and I know he knows something's up. But I can't tell him. What if he doesn't want a child and runs away? I wouldn't be able to bare it. Or what if he wants the baby, and we have mixed feelings about it? Oh god, I can't do this!

What are you talking about? You're a Morgan! Morgans don't chicken out you wimp! Ahh, there's my lulling voice of reason (usually voice of danger).

I take a deep breath. "Zach… I'm pregnant." I let my head drop, unable to face him. I clench my inter-laced hands until it hurts. I clench my jaw as my heart beats roughly, the silence unbearable. And silence makes me nervous. Nervous Cammie equals, yes, you guessed it, a ranting Morgan.

"I don't know how it happened, I swear. I mean, when you left I was totally and not feverish. But then, just recently, I started vomiting and feeling really sick. I mean, I was throwing up left and right without warning. I even puked on the floor a couple of times, actually. No one knows, in case you're wondering—"

"Cammie," he tried to say, but my mouth was nonstop.

"I mean, when I found out, I was shocked. Not shocked in a good shocked, but appalled, really. Oh! I didn't mean it was a bad shock either. It was just like a thousand bolts kind of shock. Not that I don't want to have your kids, though, but it's just that we're young and we make mistakes too, you know. Spies aren't perfect even though we're really good at most things like killing people or shooting them or aiming at them. Not that I enjoy that, but it's just something that needs to be done, you know? And I was thinking that we're not ready for a kid. It'd be too dangerous, and—and what if one of us doesn't come back from a mission?" I felt my eyes starts to tear up. "What if the other one was left to raise the kid on their own?" Before I can stop, I'm blurting out the truth. "What if you or me…. What if one of us leaves and doesn't come back, just like my dad? I knew it was tough on my mom, having to raise me by herself while dealing with the whole spy thing and grieving over her lost husband. And I… I don't want that to happen to us." My vision is blurred; my stomach is churning, and I'm pretty sure I have a strange craving for frog legs.

"What does this have anything to do with the fact that you're pregnant with my child? Wait, it is my kid, right?" I growled and he ducked as a knife flew past his head. He smirks, despite the small spikes of hair that got cut off. "Just making sure." He comes to the table his demeanor different, wiping away my tears and letting me calm down.

"How can you joke about something like that at a time like this?" I whisper, even though I'm relieved as well. He had taken it surprisingly well. I had expected him to start grilling me with questions. But apparently, that wasn't his ideal method.

"You haven't answered my question," he says quietly. "What does not coming back from a mission have to do with having a kid."

"I don't want a kid," I manage.

"Why not?"

"I—I don't want to be left alone with a baby if you don't return from a mission."

He stares at me for a long time. "So what are you suggesting?"

I look away from him, unable to see his judgmental expression. I take deep breaths before turning back reluctantly.

"I think we should think about abortion." Once the word is out, I know hell was going to break loose.

"Out of the question." Zach says immediately, his voice hard and empty of doubt.

"At least think about—"

"No. I am not going to even consider killing my own blood and flesh." His green eyes turn back to me, their hard shell gone. "And neither should you."

"But we're not ready for this, Zach! I just got a promotion, and you're busy with missions—"

"We'll make it work, Cammie. We can be the best damn parents the CIA has ever seen. I mean, we wouldn't be on our own, either. You've got Bex, Liz and Macey to help you out, and your mom, too. We can do this, Cammie." His excited and determined eyes make my ideas waver. But it's not enough to erase the fear. And I know it shows in my eyes, because then he says "And if anything were to happen to either one us, we'd persevere, because we'd want that. But I doubt that's going to happen. I mean, we're the Goode family, remember?" His confident grin helps me make up my mind.

"Fine," I mutter, wiping away stray tears. "But I swear, if you don't come back…" I trail off, not wanting to finish.

"You'll kick my ass. Yes, yes. You also said that when I first made a move on you. You Morgans and your empty threats." I raise a skeptical eyebrow.

"Empty? Did you not find a shoe mark on your ass when you woke up the next morning?"

"How would I know? For all I know, you could've made a move on me." I roll my eyes at this. "I know you find me irresistible, Cammie Morgan. They all do." I narrow my eyes at this.

"They?"

"Oh, um, I meant the women at the stores where we, uh, shop."

"Huh," I muse. I finger the fork beside me. "Care to elaborate?"

"You know, does it really matter? None of them can compare to you, sweetheart. You're my little Gallagher Girl." He lets out a nervous laugh.

"Yeah well, we'll see who your sweetheart is when you have to sleep on the couch tonight." I get up and stomp away, ignoring his pleas of "just getting back from a lonely two week trip." Pft, men.

A/N::: Good? Bad? You want to know the title of the next chap? Too bad =) It's a surprise!

Unless, of course you review and just oh so happen to ask, then I might tell you =3

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