Hi everyone. Ok, I felt everyone needed a new chapter now that the show is on winter hiatus. I've had this written for about two weeks, but my stupid computer had other plans so I wasn't able to post it until now. So, here it is. Enjoy.

Martin sat though Christmas Eve dinner at his Aunt Betsy's apartment in New York. It was kind of awkward-or at least to him. His Father and his Aunt were both chatting away, about politics, life, and their respective jobs. Martin hadn't said more than two words all night.

His Father had warned him on the plane ride there that he was to tell his Aunt about his situation with Sandy, or it would be a very uncomfortable holiday.

It wasn't like telling her would make it any less uncomfortable. But they'd been in New York for two days already, and Martin hadn't even alluded to Sandy's existence, let alone confessed the whole situation.

Betsy was happy to have her brother and her nephew with her for the holidays, but she knew them well enough to know that something was wrong. Beau was acting perfectly normal, but he was still obviously holding something back. Martin was the dead give away, though. Ever since he'd arrived he hadn't been himself. Normally he'd jump at the chance to tell her about school, his girlfriend, baseball, or just about anything else. However, this Christmas he hadn't even managed to look her in the eye.

Betsy finally decided that enough was enough, and if Martin wasn't going to talk to her, she'd have to break the barrier herself.

"So, Martin, how's school going this semester?"

She could swear she saw her nephew jump when she addressed him, almost like she'd frightened him.

"Pretty Good.". He answered without completely raising his head. "I've got enough credits to finish off by the end of January. After that the principal says I can just play baseball for the rest of the year."

"That's good." She smiled, glad that at last he volunteered some information. "So, what else is new? How's Meredith?"

At the mention of Meredith, she noticed the expression on Beau's face change. It wasn't really a grimace, It looked more like he'd just eaten something sour.

"Beau? Is everything alright?" She asked. Her brother didn't answer right away.

"I think It'd be better for Martin to tell you." He said finally, and then focused on taking a sip of wine.

Betsy felt her anger rising. Something was wrong here, and something had been wrong for a very long time. What was upsetting her was that neither her brother nor her nephew had bothered to tell her about it. "Okay, that's it. Martin, whatever's going on, I want to know what it is."

Martin didn't move.

"Now." Betsy said, a little more forcefully than she'd meant to.

The eighteen-year-old slowly lowered his fork, and looked directly at his Aunt. He had never intended to keep this from her. After all, everyone else in his life already knew. But of course, this had taken over his life. He could never go anywhere anymore without this stupid mistake following him. Everything was always about this; Sandy, the baby, and him.

"I'm gonna be a father. I got a girl pregnant."

Wow. That wasn't exactly was she'd been expecting. No wonder he'd been acting oddly.

"How does Meredith feel about it?" The poor girl. After all Martin had said about what she'd been through in foster care, and now this.

It took Martin another few seconds before she told her. "It's not Meredith. It's another girl."

Another girl? What other girl was there? If it wasn't Meredith, then the only other possibility was...

"Ruthie Camden?" Betsy was shocked at the thought. Ruthie was only sixteen, she and Martin weren't even a couple. How had this happened?

But, to her relief, Martin shook his head. "It's not Ruthie."

Betsy shot a look at Beau. He'd heard all of this before, no doubt. She felt bad, because she knew how much her nephew idolized his father. Maybe she should talk to Martin alone.

"Beau, I just remembered, I'm out of dishwashing liquid. Could you walk down to the convenience store on the corner and get some for me?"

"No problem." Beau said, rising and taking the napkin out of his lap. "I'll be back in a few minutes." He'd gotten the hint, Betsy knew. He'd be gone for a while.

After a few seconds, Beau's footsteps could be heard walking down the hall towards the elevator. Betsy and Martin looked at each other in silence.

"Was she a one night stand?" The blonde asked her nephew. A look of shame was present on his face as he nodded his head.

"She's a friend of Simon's."

Betsy listened intently as Martin told her the entire story, from his mistake with Sandy to the brief phone call he'd made to her a few days before he'd come to New York. The phone call in which he'd told her that he was sorry for insulting her, but he didn't want to be a father.

"So, other than that phone call, you haven't talked to her at all?" She asked when he'd finished.

"Not really."

What was odd about the whole thing was thathe seemed completely fine with the fact that he was about to abandon his own child. This wasn't theMartin she knew.

"Why don't you want to help her?"

Martin was quiet for a second, only to fume in anger the next. "I don't want to help her because she's probably been doing this her whole life! Do you think she lost her virginity to me? She's probably slept with half the college, what did she think would happen sooner or later? I just happen to be the unlucky guy who was in the wrong place at the wrong time"

Part of her was tempted to yell back at Martin. Regardless of who this girl was, or what her past was like, this was his baby she was having. It would have his DNA, his genes, his flesh and blood. But no, yelling wouldn't make him see that. But maybe something else would...

"Martin, come with me a second. I want to show you something." She said with a slight smile, trying to look encouraging.

Looking a bit unsure of himself, Martin stood up and followed Betsy down the hallway of her apartment, toward the back room which he knew to be her bedroom. He had no idea what it was she wanted to show him, but whatever it was he hoped it wouldn't involve a lecture.

Once inside her room, Betsy motioned for him to sit on the bed. Meanwhile, she went over to her dresser and opened the top drawer. After rummaging around for a bit, she found what she was looking for. She lifted what looked like a miniature binder out of the drawer and shut it before taking a seat on the bed beside Martin.

"This is pretty old. I made it; Eighteen years ago, actually." As she handed him the item, he noticed that it was not a miniature binder, but a photo album. It was light blue and covered in matching lace, with a heart-shaped stitch in the cover. Inside the heart, in cursive writing, which Martin felt sure it was difficult to stitch into lace, was one word: Martin.

Gingerly opening the cover, Martin flipped through the pages of the album. He saw that there was one picture for each year he'd been alive. From his first birthday, to his eighteenth, and most recent. Each picture was unique. One was a Christmas card photo, which he didn't recall, as he'd only been two at the time. One was a school picture he remembered as being taken in the third grade,in whichsmilingwith a grinthat was missing two front teeth. Yet another was from his Elementary school graduation, where he held his diploma up for the camera, upside down. The first birthday he'd had in Glen Oak, just after they'd moved in, which had been his sixteenth, was also there.And finally, his eighteenth birthday, which was represented by a picture of him at the batting cages, helmet on and shirt soaked with sweat.

That was when he realized that in each picture he was alone, which was intended, by the looks of his Aunt's hard work at cropping the pictures. In each picture except for one. He hadn't noticed it before because it wasn't in chronological like the rest of them. It was in the back, separated from the others. This one was not from any of his birthdays, or rather, not one of his celebrated birthdays. He knew that immediately by looking at it. As he slid it out of the plastic protector, his Aunt spoke.

"I took that picture. At Middlebury Hospital in Santa Rosa, California. Fourth Floor, room 275. Window side."

Martin inspected the picture more closely, and saw that it was of his father, quite a few years younger by the length for his hair, and the smoothness of his skin. He stood beside what looked like a hospital bed, but Martin couldn't tell for sure, since the photo only included about half of it. The look on his Father's face wasn't exactly a smile, but it wasn't a look of shock, either. It was only comparable to the look of a small child on Christmas morning who looks under the tree to find that everything he ever wished for is there. It was only then that Martin could see what it was his father was looking at. In his arms was a newborn, wrapped in a blue blanket, barely visible in his muscular arms. The dark haired baby looked very familiar, as it should have. It was Martin himself.

"How do you remember all that?" The young man asked, thinking it impossible that anyone could remember that much detail from something that had happened so many years ago.

"How could I not remember it? You were my first nephew, I was counting the days until I could spoil you." Betsy said, smiling at the memory. "Plus, let's be realistic, I was sixteen when you were born, I needed the baby-sitting money."

Martin took the picture from her hand, and gently traced his finger down the edge of it. His Father looked tired, like he'd been up all night. His dress blues were not crisp and ironed like they normally were, and his hair was tousled beyond belief. The Bill Brewer that Martin knew was never discombobulated, but rather very straight laced and organized. A true Marine. To see him like this, even if it was only in a picture, was laughable.

"Your Dad was a total wreck that day. And when I say 'wreck', I mean, it was bad." Betsy put an arm around her nephew, patting him on the shoulder. "One of the doctors gave him some scrubs to wear, and he when he went into a supply closet to put them on, he was gone for a while."

"What, was he lost or something?" Martin asked, having never heard the story before.

Betsy shook her head and continued. "I was starting to wonder where he was, so I went and knocked on the door of the closet, and asked if he was in there. The next thing I heard was Bill calling 'Betsy, I can't get out of here, the door's stuck!', so I tried pulling on it from the outside, but It still wouldn't open. Then I realized what the problem was, and I yelled through the door. 'Beau, did you remember to unlock the door before you tried opening it?' Sure enough, he unlocked the door and walked out. He looked so mortified, I wish I would have taken a picture."

Martin laughed genuinely for the first time in quite a few weeks. It felt good to laugh again. He'd almost forgotten what it felt like.

"All that aside, there's a reason I wanted to show you all this" She took her hand off Martin's shoulder, and instead soothingly stroked his head of shinny dark hair. She was reminded that her hair was the same color, she only dyed it blonde to be more fashionable.

Opening the photo album again, this time to the very back cover, she carefully lifted a piece of paper that had been taped there. It was folded in half, so Martin couldn't read what it said, but he had a feeling that he was about to find out.

"This was the card that your Dad wrote to you when you were born. They accidently left it behind when your Mom was discharged, so I took it, but somehow it got lost in the shuffle and I never managed to give it back. Anyway, I think you should read it.

Martin took the card from her. It was small, and it looked like it had been purchased from the hospital gift shop, as it was very simple. 'For my Son' was written on the front, but nothing else. The handwriting inside, which he recognized as his Father's, was kind of sloppy, so it was probably a rush job. His eyes slowly scanning the page, Martin began to read:

We are a family now, a whole,
Of which you are a part,
And I would not have ever guessed
that you could own my heart.

There is no limit to my love,
No boundary you might cross,
No price you might be asked to pay,
No need to fear it's loss.

We are now one, the three of us,
The windows of one home.
As long as I have life and breath,
You'll never be alone.

Martin bit his tongue to avoid the subtle sting of tears. He couldn't imagine his Father writing something like this. Even when Bill would send Christmas cards to his wife, they were signed simply 'Love, Beau.'

"Did Dad write this himself?" Martin inquired, glancing at the page again.

Betsy nearly laughed. "Your Father? Are we talking about the same person, Martin? You know as well as I do that Bill Brewer is many things, but a poet isn't one of them. He found this in a book the library. He was too beside himself to speak at the time, so he let the poem do it for him."

Martin knew what she was getting at. Why hadn't he seen it before?

His Aunt looked at him seriously. "Martin, I know it seems really far away right now, but I know you, and I know that when your son or daughter is born, you'll love them just as much as your Dad loves you."

He remembered the look on his Dad's face in the picture. That familiar sense of regret in the utmost capacity bit at his mind again, and for a short moment he wished he hadn't said some of the things that he had. Was that what it was like to become a Father? Was that how he would feel? The eighteen-year-old couldn't believe it. His Father had wanted him, had been in love with his mother; this was different.

"I don't think I'll be able to love it, Aunt Betsy." He said, yet for some reason he was unable to look her in the eye. "It's too complicated, this wasn't supposed to happen."

Betsy stood up, facing her nephew. "No, it wasn't. But sometimes you can't control things that happen in life, sometimes you just have to let fate take over. Remember that, Martin."

And with that she stood, put the album back in her dresser, and left the room. Martin stayed put, drowned in thought.He couldn't begin to predict what would happen in the coming weeks, but even if he could, he wasn't so sure that he wanted to know.

That's it! Hope you enjoyed, please review!-Tessie:)