A/N: So, I finally got around watching Season Nine of 7th Heaven on DVD, and I suddenly had the urge to write a Ruthie/Martin fic. It took me a couple of tries to come up with a good plot line, but I think I've stumbled upon one that will make for a very interesting, Marthie-filled story. Plus, not many people write 7th Heaven fics anymore – it was a fantastic show; let's keep it alive! And even though Ruthie and Martin didn't end up together – much to mine, and I'm sure, everyone else's, chagrin – that doesn't mean we can't write stories where they do end up togehter. I thought about writing the story to take place during Season 11, after Ruthie returns from Scotland, or writing it as if it took place after Season 11 and have Ruthie choose Martin over T-Bone, but then I decided to have it take place during Season 10. So, this story starts towards the end of Season 10, a month or so after Martin moves to be near Sandy and the baby. And, just so you know (though you'll probably figure it out after reading this first chapter), Martin comes back to Glen Oak and go to high school when he finds out that the baby isn't his.

Disclaimer: Not mine. Or else it would be in it's 14th season now, filled with many, many Marthie moments. Sigh. Maybe one day ...

And so, without further ado, I present to you the way that the end of Season 10 should have really gone – because we all know Ruthie and Martin belong together.

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It wasn't his.

The thought was overwhelming, not at all how she had expected it to be. Hadn't she daydreamed about this moment millions of times? Hadn't she wished and wanted and hoped and prayed for it to come?

Yes, she had. And here it was – the baby wasn't his. It really wasn't his. Of course, it hadn't happened exactly like her daydreams; he didn't come find her in the backyard, or a restaurant, to declare his love for her. Rather, Lucy – who had been helping Sandy through the whole ordeal – came to deliver the news: Martin was not the father. According to Lucy, Sandy had had a paternity test done recently, only a month or so after the baby was born (and a month or so after Martin had left Glen Oak to be closer to the Sandy and the baby).

Apparently Aaron – that was the baby's name – was actually fathered by some guy Sandy had met at a party about a week prior to sleeping with Martin. And now she and party-guy were trying out the whole 'living together and raising a family' thing. And Martin was, Lucy had told them, coming back to Glen Oak to continue high school (even though, technically, he'd already graduated).

Strange how these things worked out, wasn't it?

She'd always imagined – in her daydreams, at least – that she'd be happy, ecstatic, if something like this ever happened. That she'd fall into Martin's arms, the ones that she'd always felt had fit her so perfect, her face pressed up against his chest, his lips planting smooth kisses into her dark curls. Life would be perfect.

But life wasn't feeling perfect now, and she wasn't feeling happy. She had just been starting to let him go. But knowing that he would be returning soon (tomorrow, actually, Lucy had said), living across the street from her, maybe even giving her rides to school again, brought a sharp, searing pain to her stomach.

She wanted to punch something.

Why was he coming back now? Why did he have to ruin everything? There was only, like, two or three months left of the school year left anyways – why come back for those two, puny months? Why not just continue at college, playing baseball and doing college things?

Ruthie grabbed her pink throw pillow and threw it across the room in anger. After all, what better use did a throw pillow serve, anyways? But it didn't help to get all her frustration out. Instead, she found that she was still very much in a bad mood.

Why couldn't things go her way – just once?

It wasn't fair that he was coming back now, when she was finally getting her life in order. She'd just started going out with Brian – having finally received her parent's permission to date the eighteen year old – and now Martin was going to come and screw everything up. Typical Martin.

Ruthie let out a sigh and went to grab her throw pillow, tossing it back on the bed. Then she curled up under her covers, leaning back against the headboard, and brought her knees up to her chest.

It was going to be a long night.

--

She watched him from her room.

He was lugging boxes and suitcases into his house; his father was helping him. She kept peeking through the window at him, the curtain open barely an inch so he wouldn't see her watching. Every once and a while he would glance over at her house. Sometimes it looked like he was looking at her window, almost directly at her and, during these occurrences, she would quickly shy away from the window, praying to God that he hadn't seen her.

Not like it mattered, anyway. She couldn't avoid him forever, she knew. Eventually, he would either come over here – it would be the polite thing to do – just to say 'hi' to everyone, or, if he didn't (she sure wouldn't if she was in his place), then she would definitely be seeing him at school Monday. They were bound to bump into each other in the small hallways at one point or another. She was just praying that that point would never come.

"Ruthie?" her mom's voice interrupted her watching Martin and she jolted upright, quickly letting the curtain fall.

"What?" she asked, a bit rudely, embarrassed at being caught watching, but also angry at being interrupted.

"We're having breakfast downstairs – chocolate chip pancakes."

Ruthie crinkled her nose. "I'll come down later and just have a bowl of cereal or something."

Her mom shook her head. "No, Ruthie," she reprimanded, "You'll come down now and eat with the rest of the family."

Sighing, Ruthie obliged her mother, grabbing her robe and pulling it on over her pajamas before making her way down the stairs.

"I'll just have one pancake," she announced, sliding into the seat next to Sam.

"Martin's back," David said, as if she didn't already know, while Annie slid a pancake onto Ruthie's plate. She took a bite, munching it slowly, before swallowing.

"I noticed," she commented dryly.

Annie shot her a warning look. Ruthie shot her a I-don't-care look back. Then Annie shot her a stop-this-attitude-now-or-else look, so Ruthie sighed, resigned.

"So," Ruthie asked, shoving another piece of pancake in her mouth, "What are you boys up to today?"

"We're going to play at the park with Maddie."

Ruthie stifled a laugh. Maddie was one of the twin's best friend – and also, she was convinced, both of their love interests (even if they were still only seven).

"That's nice," she said. Polishing off the last of her pancake, Ruthie stood up quickly from the table, heading over to the sink to rinse off her dish and then stick in the dishwasher.

"I'm going upstairs to get ready," she said, "I have a date today. With Brian." Annie nodded and Ruthie hurried up the stairs, noticing that after all of her Martin-watching that morning, she only had about forty-five minutes left to get ready. Heading into her room to grab some clothes – jeans and a long-sleeved shirt and a gray cardigan vest – she took one last quick peek out the window; Martin was staring at their house. As soon as he she saw him watching her house, she let the curtain fall, quickly exiting the room and heading towards the bathroom.

As she massaged her favorite berry tea shampoo into her scalp, Ruthie's mind kept wandering back to Martin – why had he been staring at their house? Was he going to come over, or something? Because that was the polite thing to do, though Ruthie was feeling torn on whether or not she wanted him to come over. She hadn't really talked to him since the baby had been born and he'd left for college. It would be awkward if he did come over, she decided, that much was for sure.

She finished up in the shower as fast as she could, but her hair was a whole other obstacle. It took her nearly twenty minutes to get all the tangles out, but she finally managed to turn her wild curls into a somewhat controlled mess. She got dressed quickly then left the bathroom – Brian would be here any second.

As if reading her thoughts, she heard the door bell ring. "I'll get it!" she called, tying up the laces on her ankle-length high-heeled boots as quickly as she could, "It's probably Brian!" She hurried down the stairs, nearly tripping in the process, then slowed to a casual walk as she reached the front door. After all, she didn't want to appear too anxious.

Straightening her white shirt, she reached for the handle of the door, slowly pulling it open. What – or rather, who – stood on the other side took her completely by surprise.

"Martin?" The name spilled out of her mouth as she took in all six feet of the boy in front of her. He looked a little older, but mostly just the same. God, it felt weird seeing him this up close again. It was enough to send chills up her spine.

"Ruthie," he said, stuffing his hands into his pockets, "Hey."

She swallowed the lump that was rising in her throat. "Hey," she said back. She had been right – this was awkward.

"Can I, uh, come in?" he asked.

"Oh, yea, sure," she said, sort of absentmindedly, stepping aside to let Martin in. He stepped past her and she shut the door behind him.

"So," he said, regarding her.

"So," she answered back, getting nervous. She rocked back and forth on her heels – he was making her feel uncomfortable and awkward and embarrassed, yet her stomach was churning, filling with butterflies – a feeling she hadn't felt in a while, a long while. "What brings you to this side of the street?" Oh, God. Had she really just said that?

Martin chuckled. "Just wanted to say hi – you, uh, you did hear about Sandy and the baby, didn't you?"

Ruthie nodded. "That the baby's not yours? Yea, we heard; Lucy told us. She still talks to Sandy, you know."

Martin nodded. "Of course."

There was another awkward pause and then the doorbell rang for the second time that morning. "Ruthie?" Annie called, hurrying into the entryway, "I thought you said you were going to get the door."

"I did," Ruthie answered, gesturing to Martin.

Annie's mouth formed into a little oh-shape. "Martin," she announced, surprised, trying to regain her composure, "How are you?"

"Good, thanks Mrs. Camden." It was silent, save for the shuffling of feet, and then the doorbell rang again.

"Oh!" Ruthie explain, feeling a bit frazzled, "I should get going." She grabbed her purse lying by the door and slung it over her shoulder.

"You're going out?" Martin asked suddenly, taking her surprise.

Ruthie nodded, her hand laying on the doorknob. A swift knocking was heard on the other side. "I have a date," she explained. With those words, Ruthie swung open the door, where Brian stood, waiting.

"Hey you," Brian said, "What took you so long?"

She glanced over her shoulder, where Martin and Annie stood, watching them. "Oh, hey," Brian said, lighting up and stepping inside the house. "Martin Brewer! I heard you were back. Man, we've been having a kil-ler season without you. I knew you'd be back!" He slipped an arm around Ruthie's waist as he talked. "Man, we might actually beat the Hawks this year! How cool would that be?"

Martin nodded. "Yea, sounds great." Ruthie tried to gage his reaction to Brian and her date – nothing. His face was a blank slate, a poker face.

"Sure as hel – I mean, heck, sorry Mrs. Camden. Sure as heck will be! And guess what? I finally got a car, man! A Chevy Camaro – how wicked is that?"

"We should get going," Ruthie said, tugging on Brian's hand, "If we want to make that early showing." She pulled him towards the door with her, trying to reach it as quickly as possible. "Bye mom. And Martin, it was good seeing you."

"You too," she thought she heard Martin say, but she couldn't be sure because the door was already closing behind her and Brian and they were walking towards his car.

"Hey," he said, as she headed to the passenger side of his Camaro, "I never got to say hello to you properly." The next thing she knew, Brian's lips were pressed up against hers, and she was pressed up against the back of the car, the door handle digging sharply and uncomfortably into her back.

As he kissed her, and she, admittedly, kissed him back, she felt like something was off – it wasn't an uncommon feeling; his kisses had been feeling like that for a while. The first time he had kissed her, she'd believed it was the most amazing kiss she'd ever tasted – full of passion and want and longing and need. But the novelty had worn off and, lately, she was starting to notice another, sharper edge to his kisses; they seemed forceful, almost, hard and rough, and she was always the one to push him away.

This time was no exception. "Come on," she muttered, gently prying his lips from her own, "We're going to be late." Before he could plant another kiss on her, she was turning around and climbing into his car, slamming the door behind her quickly. She didn't look back at her house as they pulled out of the driveway – much too quickly, always much too quickly, as Brian seemed to like to drive as fast as possible (even faster than Vincent had liked to drive, which was saying something).

If she had looked back, she would have seen him watching.

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A/N: So, how was it? I'm excited to get started on the next chapter – I have great ideas for this story! Review, review, review, pretty please!