Hide and Seek.

Chapter 1

Sarah watches him kneading the dough back and forth, back and forth. Knows that he will do this for exactly nine minutes before the mixture is ready to rest for another 45. She could never have that much patience. It drives her borderline insane how calm Allan can be even in the middle of a heated argument. But then again, the heat only comes from her part. She is usually met with his condescending - yet somehow comforting - silence. Allan is steady and reliable, when she is unstable and short-tempered. He always has to be the one to remain calm, because he knows she has enough sparks for both of them. Hell, she could probably set the whole house on fire with just how aggravated her temper gets sometimes. Luckily, Allan doesn't hold it against her.

Things have been tense with their wedding approaching and her growing more and more restless with it. Allan tries his best not to take her moodiness personally, but it was not an easy task. It certainly came with a price as well. He would sometimes stay a few hours in the kitchen testing new recipes, and leave her to work upstairs until her anger had dissipated. It also took all his strength not to ask her what was that made her so damn irritated. Because, deep down, he already knows what it is. Always have actually.

"Sarah,"

"I said, no." She says again, and he sighs. They've been running in circles around the same point, and Sarah can tell that he's tired already. She is too. "I don't even want him in the wedding, let alone in the house. He's not coming."

"Sarah..." Allan pleads, tries to reason with her, even though he knows her to be far beyond reasoning at that point. Still, he has to try. He won't be able to forgive himself if he doesn't try to do everything to make her feel better. To help her heal. He wipes the sweat from his forehead, leaving little blotches of flower that will soon run down his cheeks and turn into a ghostly white mess. "It's just one night..."

"Can't he stay in a hotel? Isn't he a big shot whatever now?" She can feel the dryness in her tone - dryer than the air at night, when it snows - still too cold to bear, though. The chill running down her skin to settle painfully on her tired joints.

Allan keeps his eyes on her like they are holding a staring contest. She grits her teeth and pretends to be distracted by one of her long auburn waves. It doesn't work. He can see right through her.

"What?"

"It's Peter, Sarah. " She shifts uncomfortably on the chair. After all these years, the simple mention of his name shouldn't bother her so much, but it does. "Your brother."

"Step-brother." She corrects him quickly. "We're not family, not really. Not like Maddie and I were." But she can hear the lie as it escapes her lips because even though they weren't blood-related, they were raised that way. Linked and together. Just like she and Maddie were. Family.

There are a long few moments of silence, only broken by the faint sound of Allan's fingers gently working the dough. Only two more minutes to go, she thinks.

"Sarah..."

"You know I can't. Don't ask me to." She looks down at the floor, where her bare toes are touching the cold wooden floor. Anywhere but at him, and those eyes that are far too old for his baby-like face. "I can't."

"I know," he says softly.

Allan sets the mixture aside to rest and adjusts the small timer so he won't miss the dough's ideal window of growth. Sarah is still looking down, but she can feel him watching her again. Allan looks at her with his big rounded eyes, that Peter used to mockingly compare to the ones from a Keane's Big Eyes replica they had in the middle of the living room. Hers, on the other hand, he had compared to the Eye of Sauron and said that no one could hold her gaze long enough without feeling like they were on fire themselves. Yet another one of their many differences. Still, Allan smiles at her lightly, giving his infamous all-knowing eyes, desperately waiting to fix whatever might be wrong. Little does he know that some things couldn't be fixed. No matter how much he tried.