A/N: Chapter 4: Completely unplanned but it just kept going so naturally, I just went along for the ride. Hopefully it worked out.

Disclaimer: Don't own anything

Silence had never been more comfortable. For well over an hour, the three laid in quiet company of the other leaving the last few hours as some kind of unspoken understanding. Aaron's even breathing as he quietly played with Ruthie's hair was as loud as it seemed to get.

"I almost don't want to move," she whispered. Martin shook his head. He attributed lack of motivation to just how early they'd been woken up. If he were awake enough, he could probably muster up enough to glare at the little boy, far too easily entertained by the bounce in Ruthie's curls to care.

"Got about twelve hours," he laughed. Ruthie nodded trying to suppress a yawn. "You could use a couple of those to nap," he pointed out. "You're usually around for the day shift. No sane person keeps a brave face this early in the day." Ruthie just rolled her eyes.

"I've got things to do," she countered, the fact that he was a self-proclaimed crazy all on his own sat at the tip of her tongue but she chose to bite down on it harshly before the words had a chance to fall out. Martin looked at her curiously. "Homework," she said simply.

"You graduated….I was there. All of us were." Even if his new priorities did a fine job of sucking him dry, he had enough time to sit through four hours of pointless speeches just to watch the youngest Camden get her diploma. He remembered very little of that night. Some speaker went on about how they were moving onto their next big adventure and the valedictorian wasted everybody's time by saying something eerily similar. The little he stored in his long term memory was the way her long dark hair fell over shoulders and the light smile (no teeth) that graced her face. Everyone was there for their own kid anyway. The ten seconds it took to walk up and shake some person's hand was quickly drowned out by the other thousand who did the exact same thing. Still, Martin went, knowing that with all he'd put her through, he could give Ruthie one night.

Ruthie rolled her lip realizing how easily she was caught in her own little white lie. The truth was she couldn't sleep, no matter how tired she really was. The last few hours left her a lot to think about. What did any of it matter now anyway? Someone had gone and pressed rewind on the tape that was their more than odd relationship. She wasn't even sure what kind of relationship it was anymore. She had someone and…up until the night before, good or bad, so did he. Now they were thrown back into the ring, in no real position to do anything about it. Not that she wanted to. "Your mom was the loudest one in the stadium. You don't have homework."

"I just have stuff to do, okay? So do you. We can't just sleep till 7. As appealing as it all sounds." He had to scramble to make his face as expressionless as possible, her words and the way she used them a bit of a surprise to him.

"Alright, whatever. It's just a suggestion. You can put the claws away."

"I don't have claws," she muttered.

"You haven't met yourself then," he said quietly.

"What was that?" she mumbled turning to him.

"Nothing," he said quickly. "Just be ready, okay? Don't want to be late."

"We've got like eleven hours," she laughed. Now it was Martin's turn to shrug. "You're acting like this is some big fancy dinner when really we're just going to the Promenade. The most exciting we're going to get is maybe a visit to the Dairy Shack if I get pouty enough. Then you'll have to take me," she smirked.

"You're making it sound like this big sacrifice."

"You don't know what we're seeing yet. I might have to drag you through the whole night and then you'll get all grumpy and groan about it for hours, telling me how much torture it is."

"Is this some kind of punishment?"

"I prefer to call it a lesson," she teased. Martin couldn't help but let his stomach turn to knots. Just the idea of being in the same room with her sent his head spinning like a stupid teenage girl. Or maybe he was so frantic because it meant that for just a few hours he could be society's idea of normal. Ruthie had a very simple way of doing just that. No masks, no games. Things just were. Lesson or no lesson, he'd take it.

"Professor Camden," he joked, his quip earning him a single-handed pillow to the arm. "Was that detention?" he laughed expertly avoiding the throw and letting it land on the floor beside him before picking it back up, glaring when Aaron found humor in the whole thing. "Notice how I haven't gotten a shot at her once," he whispered.

"Hardly," she grumbled. Ruthie again found herself piercing her own tongue. Technically, he had, in ways she never even imagined possible. "Are we just going to lie here all day or do you want help getting all your junk moved in?" Martin swallowed hard, not even sure if he could walk through the place without wanting to throw out half of the things that didn't belong to him and burn the rest.

"We should probably go figure that out…"

"Yeah," she nodded. "We probably should." Realistically, Ruthie just wanted to leave everything there as it was. If she as much as set foot in that house she would be swimming in the shadows of people and places she would much rather forget. She was almost certain it wasn't just her either.

"Best to leave him here, I think. We'll just be going back and forth. This way he might just sleep and stay out of Mom's hair." Martin almost caught his own slip but didn't do much about it. The Camdens were really the only stability he'd known, kind enough that they somehow still treated him like one of the many extensions of the family, a courtesy he knew better than to properly deserve considering. If he thought of the technicalities and what he'd just implied, they'd be right back to the beginning. You don't kiss your sister he thought. Not like that. Shaking himself of the thought Martin eased his son off her chest and smiled. "What do you think? Stay here or help us carry boxes big enough to fit you in?"

"That one's easy," Ruthie said, a smile coming across her own face. "Grandma's more fun than Dad any day."

"Thanks…" to which she easily shrugged.

"Just giving you the facts. They can make us cookies and juice. Everybody wins," she said, letting her finger glide up Aaron's leg. This of course got another one of his laughs as Ruthie gave Martin a knowing smile. "What'd I tell you? He loves it."

"I'm honestly not too excited about what we're doing either. Sounds like your day's going to be a lot more exciting." The little boy gave his father a knowing grin before sticking part of his shirt in his mouth.

And it probably very well was. Moments later, Martin and Ruthie were headed over to his house to box up what they could of the things they needed most immediately. It helped that at least half of it was already stored somewhere in the house. Under daylight, he could now see just how many traces of Sandy were really gone. Noticing how sparse she left it made him even angrier, though the emptiness was all the better for him. Literally nothing kept him here if he chose never to come back. Gone were the few family photos they'd taken over the last year, only their frames left propped on tables and a mantle that had gone unused for well over three weeks. She'd even gone so far as to removing the few paintings she had on the walls. Not that he cared for those. He had to assume she had help. There was no way Sandy had taken so much in so short a time. Not to mention how quietly it all had to be done if she wanted to make her escape without incident.

He wasn't entirely sure why there was little to nothing said while they worked. Martin wondered if it had anything or everything to do with where they were and why. The faster they got out, the easier it was to just lock up and forget about life behind these doors. Boxing up Aaron's few toys and necessities he couldn't keep from standing behind the small island, scanning the room for anything else important, taking a few seconds to reflect on what any of it meant.

He was now a single dad, just as his own father was. Though he considered the night before, something about a nearly empty house, which now kept only furniture and a few blankets made it all the more real. The only noticeable difference was that Sandy hadn't died. That made it all the worse. His own mother had no choice in her leaving. The mother of his son was ready and willing, eager to drop the few things that could potentially hold her back from whatever it was she wanted to do with her life.

"I think that's everything," Ruthie said with a heavy and labored sigh as she brushed her hands on her pants. Turning to her, Martin was once again brought back to the present, pulled easily from his own thoughts. So consumed in getting it all over with, he wasn't even sure how long they'd been there, or how many packing boxes traveled back and forth between houses. All that mattered was that they were now on the last few odds and ends.

"Yeah, we'll come back for things later if we need them," he mumbled. Ruthie looked at him carefully, her own eyes clouded with quiet concern. She chose to say nothing on the matter and decided a simple nod was probably enough.

"C'mon," she said gently, a slight tug at his arm. Martin looked down at her small hands, barely able to wrap effectively around his bicep. Those hands were the reason he kept his head at all and he knew it. The walk back to the house was equally as quiet, though comfortable all the same. As promised, they came back to the smell of fresh cookies and ice cold lemonade. "Martin, if you need—"

"No, I'm good," he said quickly. Ruthie met him somewhat skeptically but said nothing. They both knew that was a lie. Even so, she let him believe it for as long as he needed to.

"Just take a minute," she mumbled. "Sit, have a cookie or something. I promise these won't chip your tooth." He offered her a half-smile noticing how much effort even that was, taking a bite as he chewed methodically. As she watched him in silence, she became all too aware of his distance. "If you want a rain check…"

"No."

"It's okay if you do. I get it." No, she didn't but he had to give her points for trying, for being her usually supportive self. Even if she did, there was no backing out of this now. He'd broken enough promises to her for a lifetime.

"We're going," he said. Ruthie gave him a nod, not entirely sure he'd sit well with the decision after a few hours. Putting down his empty glass, he slowly backed away from the kitchen, easing up into the swinging door toward the stairs. "Just going to go…"

"Got it. I'll go hop in the shower and find something decent that's not covered in dust and old paint stains. Ruthie found she was talking to herself now, Martin already gone out the door and up the stairs. She shrugged, taking them two at a time herself. Giving herself fifteen minutes in the shower, she quietly tiptoed back to Martin's room, being sure to stay out of sight. What she found was somehow exactly what she expected. Aaron was fast asleep, curled up on his father's chest, Martin moments from doing the same.

"Ruth." Hearing her name, Ruthie quickly jumped back, knowing her attempt to be inconspicuous was pretty much a fail. "I know you're back there," he mumbled. With her genius plan unraveled, she padded guiltily into the room, pressed up against the wall.

"Sorry. I didn't mean to—"

"Come here," he said sleepily. Unlike the previous night, she was more hesitant with the given invitation, keeping her fair distance until otherwise. "Please?" he whispered. Slowly, still slightly unsure, she nodded sliding in beside them. As she pulled in closer, his arm came around her waist where he let his fingers run slowly along her hipbone. "S'the only thing that works when she's gone," he muttered.

"I know," she said quietly. Even when she was called over to help him, Ruthie often found him curled up on the couch exactly like he was now.

"He's going to want answers…I don't have those," he said, his own voice catching as his other hand ran through Aaron's hair.

"When you need them, they'll be there," she mumbled.

"I barely remember her…" Ruthie was quick to realize that Martin hardly ever spoke of her and that was probably enough reason as to why. "She used to sing…All the time. That much I do remember. Cooking, cleaning, in the shower. She was always singing. She wasn't one of those moms who didn't know she sucked. She was good. Really good. At least I thought so. I was…I think seven when she died. I don't remember dates and stuff. I'll only do that when I go visit her. And then it just…starts over. I'll hear her out there and swear she's fine. Sometimes I see her too and she's got that smile that's not really a smile. It was all in her eyes, that's how you knew. Anyway, I was one of those weird kids who actually enjoyed cleaning. Then again, I was six or seven so what did I know? But that's what we did. We cleaned with the radio on.

Sometimes we'd bake things and I remember eating almost all the dough before it made it to the pan. I'd regret it later. Every time. But when things like that are right there in front of you and you're a six year old kid who knows all about rules and how to break 'em, before you know it, you've got your head in the toilet because you don't know how to pace yourself. I'd get this half-hearted lecture about it too. I think she knew I'd end up doing it anyway. It happened so often that wasting her breath really didn't do much anymore. But it's not like she stopped giving me the stuff so you know.

And then it stopped. I'd come home and the kitchen was basically empty. She taught me how to call the pizza guy on a Friday night. I didn't think much of it. Friday was always that kind of day. She called it "junk day". The one day a week where healthy food was not an option. And then I got to call him on Mondays and Wednesdays too. Well, then I just thought I must've done something really impressive. Thing was, I didn't know what. I didn't come home with an A on my spelling test; I never made the honor roll. I was just your average kid. An army brat but, it wasn't like I was the only one there ever was.

It was always just me and Mom...And the pizza guy. The calls got so frequent they always sent the same one. His name was Steve. Steve was actually really cool. We got to talk about comics and cars. Guy stuff. Stuff Dad was never around to talk about. Until he was. By then, I hardly saw her. She was always curled up in her room. When Dad started coming home every day, the pizza stopped. One day I asked him why Steve never came around anymore. He just told me that we didn't need Steve anymore. That made even less sense to me but you don't argue with him. Then I figured out why. Neighbors started coming by with all kinds of food. I wanted to ask what it meant but I knew better.

Then things got really weird. I didn't go to school for a month. The drill sergeant, who made me go to school, even when I was sick. He let me stay home. I was all kinds of excited about that. Especially on days when I knew we had tests and things. The fact that I got to stay home from school for those…It was almost like Disneyland or something. I got to eat in bed, eat cookies if we had them. Even when I hadn't eaten dinner yet. We spent most of those days in Mom's bed. She sang for the first week. And then just…held me. The only times she let me do anything was when I had to go shower or use the bathroom or get food. The rest of the time it was this unspoken agreement that we'd just lay there together.

"I fell asleep in her arms. She was squeezing real tight then. It was almost impossible to breathe she had me in so close." Martin sighed turning to face Ruthie then. "3:45am her arms went slack. I remember taking her arm and wrapping back around myself. It would just…lay there. If I moved it'd just slip and end up at her side. I did all the things I could think of to try and wake her. For a while, I thought she was just in a really deep sleep so I let her be. I knew she wasn't okay. I didn't know much but I knew that. So I just left her. By seven the sun was starting to come up and she was starting to get cold. I wrapped her in blankets and rubbed her arms and stuff. By nine she was white. I didn't know what to do so I did the only thing I could think of. I called Steve.

It's a good thing he was working that morning or else we would be there until Dad got home. But anyway, Steve came over. When the doorbell rang, I rushed over to make sure it didn't wake her up or anything. I could tell by the look on his face when he saw her that something was really wrong. He told me to stay with my mom and he went to go make a call. Not quite sure how he did it but, he got Dad on the phone and he came over. Steve left after that but not before giving us four free pizzas. I had no idea why but I figured it had something to do with all the free food we'd been getting. Who cares? All that registered was that we were getting pizza we didn't have to pay for.

It wasn't until the funeral when I figured out exactly what happened to her. It was an open casket. She looked like she was sleeping. I remember poking her in the cheek. Things like that always got a reaction of some kind. I got nothing. She just kept laying there. I tried talking to her. She wouldn't even open her eyes. After everyone got a look at her, they closed it. And then we went out to a field….They put her in the ground.

Seven year old logic's a funny thing. Even though I saw her go in there, for the longest time, I just thought she was playing games with me. She'd be back. She'd sing me one more song; bake me one more tray of cookies. I even saved her the last pizza. I let it sit until Dad told me to eat it or he'd throw it out. Mom never came for her pizza." Recalling the gravestone, he shuttered pulling Ruthie to him as tightly as he remembered his own mother doing to him. "My mother died…about eleven years ago. I don't remember if I told her I loved her that night. Part of me thinks I forgot and I hate myself for it. Other times I think I did and I feel okay. I watched her waste away. I waited six hours to call for help. If I hadn't waited so long, sometimes I think she'd still be here. The more logical side of me knows there wasn't anything I could do. She died holding me. I like to think it helped at least a little."

"It did," she said gently. Martin just nodded, not quite sure he believed her entirely. "At seven, it makes no sense to you. You wonder how someone could just be gone. They never explained, they never gave you some kind of warning. God just takes them. August 15…" Ruthie's heart sank as she attempted to clear the sandpaper from her throat.

"Today…" she whispered. Martin barely nodded, a strangled smile coming to his lips as he let his eyes fall closed.

"Beatles. She loved them. Depending on when and where and sometimes why, it changes."

"What's she singing now?" she asked brushing at her eyes quietly.

"It's a pretty easy guess," he whispered tracing a light 'L' along her side.

"She sounds wonderful." Martin just nodded kissing the top of Aaron's head as he continued sleeping. "I like this…Just this is good."

"Yeah…." As Martin carefully folded a few strays behind her ear, he sighed.

"She likes you," he mumbled.

"What?"

"Mom. She likes you."

"I don't…"

"How do you think I hear her?" he smiled. Ruthie nodded, suddenly feeling silly for her thought processing. "Sometimes, when it's really quiet in here, I can hear her by the window. She's there now actually."

"Hi Mrs. Brewer," she mumbled dumbly, her cheeks flushing. Martin just chuckled brushing his lips lightly along her cheek, the soft pink becoming a harsh red as it crawled up her neck. As if sleeping together wasn't enough… she thought. Piece by little unnoticeable piece, Martin would turn her to water. The most frustrating part was that he knew it now. That seemed to make toying with her that much easier. Were they not laying there in complete and utter silence, with the ghost of Martin's mother somewhere in the room, she may have been brave enough to turn on the slightest angle and…No.

"I still wonder why no one ever told me she was sick or dying. I guess it was to protect me or something but, I don't know. Something about not knowing just…"

"…eats away at you," she finished. Again he nodded. "I know. Gets easier," she said as a glimmer of hope, though she doubted it would do very much.

"Not sure when but I hope so. I really do."

"Just listen to her," she whispered. Let it be….

"I…"

"Shh." Martin sighed, effortlessly turning Ruthie over just enough to meet her full on.

"Just listen," he countered. "She wasn't here last night. Needs to know I did right by you."

"Is she going to be watching us all the time now?" she teased, the notion comforting, no matter how odd it seemed.

"Mostly just me," he said."

"Well, that makes me feel better."

"I thought it might. I am sorry Ruthie. For all of it. Not listening, not seeing. More than anything though I'm sorry for," he mumbled, nodding toward his son.

"I don't want to hear it," she said quickly. "You don't get to be sorry for him. How and why it happened, yes. But not him. Never him. I won't let you. It's like saying he shouldn't be here. He is here. He deserves to be here."

"You know what I meant."

"It doesn't matter. And you know you're forgiven almost everything else. If your mom needs to hear it, fine. In fact, since she likes me so much, I'll tell her." Martin quickly dropped his head in his hands running a hand along his face. "Mrs. Brewer? He's forgiven for everything. The rest of it….It's coming."

"What's that even mean?"

"It means, we're not there yet but we'll get past it."

"Right." Even as he heard such a promise, he could only hope that it was true.

"Okay you need to shut back up now. I'm having a nice chat here. You need to stop interrupting."

"Sorry."

"Good. As I said, if forgiveness is what you're looking for, feel free to go,"' she said kindly. "He's been forgiven for a while." Moments later, a slight gust of wind passed them, making Ruthie shiver.

"She's proud of you," she smiled. Martin sighed shaking his head. "She is. I know it. You know better than to argue with me," she grumbled.

"I just…I'm not sure I gave her very much to be proud of. Especially recently." Ruthie practically growled forcing his eyes up.

"Look at me," she whispered. He reluctantly raised his head try hard to avoid her gaze. "My eyes are up here." Though it helped to have her practically force it on him, Martin carefully met her straight on, a light sigh blowing across his face as she breathed. "She has every reason. I don't have to see her, hear her to know that. It's all in what you know, what she taught you

"I'm still sorry," he said softly.

"I know. You can't be sorry for beautiful things, Martin. You made that. He's here because of you. He's made it this far because you didn't give up on him. That is your greatest achievement. There's no room for sorry," she smiled.

"I heard you."

"Good."

A/N: I actually love how this turned out but that might just be writer's bias. You be the judge.