I hated physicals. They were completely invasive, and so very much not necessary. Why did I have to have one before every match? It wasn't as though the doctor didn't do a thorough job of checking me out after every match, too.

It just seemed like far too much to go through before every match.

But Kamal was insistent. He didn't want HIT to be liable for any lawsuits from grieving family members, and he was certain that making all of his fighters pee in a cup was going to prevent an angry family member from suing the company if some jerk got carried away in the ring and gave someone else permanent brain injury or something.

At least this time around, peeing in a cup wasn't difficult. I'd done nothing but urinate for the past week, almost constantly. I'd tried to reduce my fluid intake, but that wasn't the most reasonable idea when you were training for a match. I wondered if that was, in part, what made me so cranky and emotional. Could a lack of water do that to you? I wasn't sure, and I wasn't going to ask the annoying doctor.

After I urinated, I had to go into a little room and allow them to poke and prod me. It was the absolute worst and I tried not to snap at them each time they asked questions that seemed completely irrelevant.

"Have you been feeling alright?" the doctor asked.

"Of course!" I said peevishly.

That earned me a raised eyebrow.

I sighed. "Look, I'm just keyed up due to the championship that's coming up. I'm a little frustrated that I have to go through all of these hoops in order to be cleared to do something that I do every single night during sparring practice anyway. But I feel fine. I am fine."

"No sudden changes or health concerns?"

If I was answering truthfully, I would have reported the nausea, the increased sensitivity each time Samuel touched me, or the fact that I couldn't stop peeing all day long. But all that would do would be to increase the amount of time I spent under inspection.

No thank you, I thought.

"Not a solitary one," I answered.

After listening to my heart and taking the rest of my vital signs, the doctor excused himself and promised to return after checking the lab results. I nodded absently and sent a text off to Samuel.

I hate physicals, I texted.

I may have known that about you, he teased back.

After a few minutes of mind-numbing boredom, the doctor came back with a frown on his face. Well, that was a first, and certainly not a good sign.

"What's the matter?" I asked. "That can't be a good sign, doctor."

"You're pregnant," he said simply. "I'm sure you're aware that such a result means you are unable to compete in the fight."

Pregnant? No. Not this soon, and not this close to my championship.

"That's impossible!" I answered. "There is no way that I can be pregnant."

The doctor looked at me as though I was the dumbest person he'd ever seen. "You are a young, healthy omega. Unless you are telling me that you are not sexually active, then I am very sure that this test is correct."

"I'm telling you it's a false positive. They happen sometimes, right?"

I ignored the comment about my sex life. It seemed wrong to deny Samuel's existence just now.

"Sometimes," the doctor agreed. "But - "

"But nothing," I argued peevishly. "Let me take the test again."

The doctor handed me another test reluctantly. When I went into the bathroom to take the test, I hesitated. Thinking back over the past several months, I knew that I hadn't exactly been careful.

Had we ever been careful since we had gotten back together? There were a few times that we used condoms, but even the first time we'd spent the night together, I hadn't been on birth control and he certainly hadn't worn a condom.

As I thought back over the past few months, I had to admit that it was far more likely that I was pregnant than to not be pregnant. Why hadn't we been careful? We both knew how important this championship was. There was no way that having a baby right now was the best idea in the world.

I filled the urine test full of mostly water with only the barest amount of urine necessary. I hoped the dilution would give a false positive. At least that way, I would be able to go to the drug store, pick up some pregnancy tests, and make sure that I was really and truly pregnant, without a doctor looming in the background with the promise of denying my championship.

I had to wait in the tiny office for a second time as the doctor viewed the lab results. When he came back in, he shook his head.

"It says it's clear, but I want to do blood work," he said.

"No way," I said firmly. "That's not required at all. It's not in my contract. I don't need you to run blood work to show that I am ready to fight. Do I have to call Kamal to back me up and remind you what the contract states?"

The doctor looked indecisive for a moment, and I internally hoped that he wouldn't press me on the issue. I wasn't altogether sure that Kamal would side with me, if the doctor told him that the tests were inconclusive.

"Alright," the doctor said reluctantly. "I'll clear you for this fight."

It was victory enough. It was also a sign for me to get the hell out of the office and get myself to a drug store as soon as possible to verify the accuracy of the first pregnancy test myself.

As it turned out, there were a hell of a lot of pregnancy tests available at the drugstore. There were digital ones, "not digital" ones, ones that gave you results with a plus or minus sign, ones that gave you the results in words, and a number of other options that made my head hurt.

I stood there in the aisle, looking at the tests for long enough that a sales person came up to me.

"Hi!" she said cheerfully. "Is there something I can help you with?"

I glanced over at her and looked for any sign of recognition that might be in her eyes. She didn't seem to know who I was, because the average fan was very enthusiastic in their greetings. Her greeting had the standard enthusiasm of an underpaid retail workers. I knew that response, having spent my teenage years working bagging groceries.

"Um, actually, maybe you can?" I said slowly. "Do you know which one of these is best? Or should I just ask a pharmacist?"

God, no, I thought. I really didn't want to have to bother anyone else. I just wanted to get my test, go home, and take them before Samuel got off work today.

Fortunately, she smiled at me with the retail worker look of practiced patience.

"Sure, I can help. We sell these all the times. The first thing you'll want to consider is whether they are for a male omega or a woman. They make different types of pregnancy tests, based on that."

Well, that didn't require me to lie or get into too much detail.

"It's for a male omega," I answered swiftly.

She reached up onto the shelf and picked up half a dozen pregnancy tests, which I took from her gratefully.

"Any of these will work," she said. "It's just a matter of preference. Sometimes, people buy more than one just for the security of making sure that they don't have a false positive."

That made sense, I thought. That was also why I bought every single one of them. I also bought a bottle of water to drink on the way home, to make sure that my bladder was full enough to handle each and every one of them.

I texted Samuel once I arrived home to make sure that I had plenty of time to deal with the tests before he came home.

Hey, how late do you work today?

It's a late day. I won't be home til 5, he answered.

That was good. That meant I had at least another hour to take care of these tests.

My hands shook, but I managed to pee on each one of the six different sticks. One of them was instant, but the others required me to wait for at least 10 minutes. The wait was going to kill me, I was pretty sure of that.

But while I waited, I tried to imagine how I was ever going to deal with a pregnancy this early. Sure, Samuel and I had definitely considered having a family.

No, that wasn't fair. We had agreed that it was something we both wanted. We did. More importantly to my present freak out, it was something that I definitely did still want. A child would be an amazing thing to have with Samuel, and there was no doubt that I wanted to see what kind of life we could have together.

But not now. Now was not a great time, not with the championship only weeks away. How , I was I going to compete if I was pregnant? It was against the rules. Technically, I could always go around the rules. In fact, I was pretty sure that I could get around the rules without any problem and without hurting the baby. If there was a baby, of course.

I knew how to block, after all. I was a good fighter – I had proven that I was the best fighter, in fact, three times already. If I didn't want anyone punching me in the stomach, I could prevent that.

But Samuel would have fits about it. He would never agree that I was capable of fighting in the ring while pregnant. I would only end up upsetting him and having a huge fight.

I could feel tears start to fill my eyes as I waited. I didn't want to have a fight with Samuel. I certainly didn't want to have a fight with him over the idea of having a baby. When I thought about the future, I thought about telling him in a way that would only make him happy. I thought about how amazed and delighted we would both be.

But in those visions of the future, there was never any looming championship. There was never any reason that we needed to fight over a pregnancy that we both wanted.

As the timer in the kitchen went off, I walked there as slowly as possible to turn the alarm off, and my feet were even slower as I made my way to the bathroom. Taking a deep breath and summoning all of the courage that I put into going into the ring, I walked into the bathroom to face the results waiting on me.

The results were as upsetting as any punch to the face could have been. There, all in a row were 6 positive tests results. Not even one of them was questionable, and I knew that each and every one of them couldn't be false positives.

I was pregnant.

Oh no! What was I going to do?

I stood there for a long time, staring down at those tests results. At least, it felt like a long time, but it might have only been a few minutes. Time didn't really have a lot of meaning while I contemplated how I was going to deal with Samuel, Kamal, and the championship.

To jerk me out of my contemplation, my phone buzzed.

Hey, good news! Last client canceled. I'm on my way home, Samuel texted.

A feeling of complete horror washed over me. I couldn't deal with this. Quickly, I gathered up the tests and shoved them into the bathroom trash can. Then I headed to the bathroom to pack.

I had to get out of here. I couldn't have this conversation with Samuel – not now and not anytime in the future.