I'm so grateful for all the reviews and follows on this, both here and on tumblr. You're all wonderful and I'm so glad to know people are enjoying will be more to follow and soon, so keep posted. This as always goes out to the super talented Eich, aka enchanteob on tumblr who is one of the most amazing writers in this fandom full of amazingly awesome people. I got so lucky to have her not only as my Beta but to have her as a friend... a really good friend.

"The scariest thing about distance is you don't know whether they'll miss you, or forget about you" - Nicholas Sparks

Enjoy everyone x

The hallway is filled with the smell of pancakes, the soft sizzling of bacon and the melodic sounds of carefree happiness as Holly sings along to the small transistor radio that sits on the top of the refrigerator. She stands at the stove, one hand clutching a spatula, holding it close to her mouth as she serenades the contents of the pan. The small circular table that takes up residence in the middle of their modest dining space is neatly laid out, a vase of artificial sunflowers sit in the centre. There is pre-prepared fruit lining the two mismatched plates that sit on either side of the table and the tall plastic tumblers that accompany them are filled with freshly squeezed orange juice. Holly lowers the spatula and flips the pancake with ease, pausing from her less than stellar rendition of "Hold your hand" to shout again into the painful emptiness of the house.

"Seth… breakfast's ready…" she calls for the third time that morning. She moves towards the table and places the small stack of pancakes down before turning back to grab the maple syrup and plate containing bacon. When she doesn't hear a noise coming from his room, she tilts her head slightly, her brows furrowing in concern. She knows it's not possible he hasn't heard her, the walls of this house are paper thin, she knows because she can hear him talking in his sleep, and she knows he hears her despite the fact that she muffles her tears with her pillow. Satisfied that everything is on the table, she gives him another minute, shaking her head when he doesn't appear she heads towards his room.

She climbs the staircase two at a time, she knows he's not in the bathroom because the pipes haven't been fixed yet and every time they use the cold tap, a loud banging noise erupts from the walls, scaring them both half to death. She doesn't take the time to listen for indications of where else he could be, reaching the top of the stairs she pauses, the silence that fills the air is unnerving and so she continues on.

The walls are bare, an off grey paint that is definitely not her style but she hasn't had it in her to change it. She knows decorating this place means she's staying here, and part of her really hasn't committed this place to memory just yet. A part of her still believes this is all some kind of crazy dream, some sort of nightmare. She had tried, when they first moved in she had made sure to make it some sort of home, if only for Seth. His room had been painted in his favourite ocean green colour, framed pictures of manatees and whales hung on his walls, the perfect compliment to the mass amounts of stuffed plush sea creatures that lived on his bed.

"Seth…" she calls again, passing her room where the bed lay unmade, the duvet tossed to the floor from one of her countless sleepless nights of tossing and turning. Boxes piled high at the foot of her bed, not one of them opened. She sighed to herself knowing she would have to unpack them soon, before the sunlight left a permanent reminder that she couldn't move on, in a place she knew she had to.

She comes to end of the hallway and reaches out to touch the door, placing a flat palm on the light oak wood and pushing gently. She expects to see him pushing his messy curls through the opening of his sweater and adjusting the collar on his t-shirt, expects to hear him mutter an apology for being late or simply taking his time but what she does see causes her breath to trip over her lips and her heart to skip a beat.

He's there, sitting on the floor, his back resting against his bed, his knees pulled up into his chest and she doesn't hear him but she knows he's crying. Her knees find the floor instantly and she reaches out a hand tentatively only for it to hover a few inches above him.

"Seth, sweetie…" she speaks, her voice soft and calm. He doesn't lift his head but she notices he pulls his legs tighter to him and his fist is clenched around a small piece of paper. She leans forward a little, her hand finding his shoulder and resting there as she gives him a moment to adjust to her connection "… what happened? Are you okay?". She doesn't want to overwhelm him with too many questions but she can feel more and more of them building up inside her with each beat her heart begins to pound. His shoulders are making short jolts that tell her this isn't a normal morning of upset, this is much bigger than the moments he's had over the past few months. She allows him some more time, not wanting to push it, afraid she might make a wrong move and cause something, anything, to go horribly wrong. She lifts her hand from his shoulder and reshapes herself until she too is resting with her back against his deep sea themed duvet and her long legs are pulled into her own chest.

"It was my fault, wasn't it…" his words are small, muffled slightly from having to pass through the space where his arm met his knees, his voice is so much smaller than it's ever have been. She can hear a weakness in him that she hadn't heard in months. Not since he had crawled into the back seat of her beaten up old Chevrolet, amongst the boxes that contained their lives, and asked her where they were going to live.

She shakes her head at him, her eyes questioning without words what this could possibly be about. She doesn't understand how quickly he has shifted from the little boy who only yesterday had wound his arms around a strangers neck and made her an instant friend, to this scared little boy who sat next to her.

He didn't make an attempt to speak again, instead his fingers flexed and he lets the crumpled piece of paper fall to the floor, she felt herself sucking in a breath again. Amber eyes stared up at her from the floor, a liars smile and its oblivious target form the image on the paper.

"Seth, where did you get this?" she asks shakily, leaning forward and reaching over him to get the photograph. She fingers the worn edges, touches lightly the corner where the colour has started to run, the after effects of her liquid sorrow.

"I hear you, you know," he croaks, still not lifting his head "… I know you think I can't, but I can. I hear you crying…"

"Oh, sweetie…" she sighs and lifting her hand away from the photograph she finds her arm hooking around him and pulling him into her, coaxing him gently into her lap. He curls his head against her chest, one hand reaching to grip a fistful of her sweater, the other tangling in his own curls as he sought comfort in both himself and her.

"I was looking for Tibbins and I went into your room, and … and…" he stumbles, his words falling in heavy breaths as his shoulders meet resistance against her chest and the tight hold she now has him in "… I heard you crying again last night, and so I was going to swap your pillow with mine, so you didn't feel so lonely and …"

"…and you found that…" Holly sighs sadly, closing her eyes and clenching her jaw, mentally berating herself for thinking that they were anywhere near past all of this.

"It was all my fault. You were happy, both of you and then I came along…" he began, she heard the crack in his voice again and maternal instinct kicked in as she tightened her hold on him, beginning to rock him gently back and forth. She placed her chin on the top of his curls and bit down on her bottom lip.

"Yeah, you did… you came along and made me realise I'd never truly love anything in this world as much as I love you" she admits, as he looks up at her with his eyes wide, rivulets of sorrow and uncertainty rolling down his face.

"She… she didn't want me…" he stated, his bottom lip quivering as he spoke words that caused a chill to crawl up Holly's spine, her stomach clenching and flipping at his words.

"No," she shake her head and cups his face gently, her forehead resting against his she shook her head "…I guess she didn't want us, but you are so wanted Seth, you were so wanted…" she informs him, her own cheeks becoming flooded with tears, her breathing shallow and fleeting.

"But you miss her…"

Holly nodded softly, and then realising what she was doing shook her head "I'd miss you more… You are my world Seth Alexander Stewart. You are my heart, and you are my Sun, my stars and my moon. Don't you ever doubt that. I know this has all been hard on you, on both of us. But I promise you, it'll get better. Soon it won't hurt so much"

"Do you hate me?" he asks, lifting his gaze to meet hers and unfurling his fist from her sweater. She puts her hands on his waist and urges him to spin in her lap until he is facing her, one foot on either side of her now crossed legs.

"Listen to me," she tells him, smoothing her hands along his arms from his wrists to his elbows, "… I could never hate you. I love you Seth, more than I ever knew I would. I could never, ever hate you, okay?"

"I just want you to be happy…" he sniffs watching as Holly smiled wide, the corners of her mouth touching her glassy eyes as she did so.

"I am happy sweetie, you make me incredibly happy," she whispers, the tip of her nose finding his and nuzzling him gently "…you ready to have some breakfast before we go meet Gail at the park?".

"Can I bring Tibbins?" he asks, looking around the room for the stuffed tiger he had carried everywhere since he was two. Holly smiles, reaching a hand over her head and patting her way towards the stuffed toy, finding him and handing him over to the small boy.

"Of course you can, I'm sure Gail would love to meet him".

Seth smiled at the mention of his new friend and clutching the tatty tiger to his chest he squirmed his way off Holly's lap, pushing himself to his feet he made his way towards the hallway. She paused for a moment, her eyes drifting across the thick weave carpet, one hand reaching out to grasp the image from the floor.

She exhaled long and heavy, her fingers, caressing the creases in the photograph, smoothing them out, and for a moment she reflects on the people in the picture. The sound of the dark haired girls laughter filling her ears, the melodic tone of her voice as she would sing Holly's name, and for a split second she wished that she could smooth the cracks in their relationship in the same simple manner she could the cracks in the photograph. But deep down she knew, no matter how hard you try to smooth them out, and fix them, to remove the imperfections or hide them from plain sight, some imperfections will always remain. No matter how hard you try.

She stares mindlessly out of the large windows at the front of the studio space, the rain had arrived shortly after Sadie and Layla had left, and so she had taken a break. Gail loved the rain, there was something about the way it hit the windows like a declaration, rolled down in wavering lines of certainty before finding the floor and washing away the imperfections the day had already left behind, that made her feel… full. Satisfied.

She had found herself approaching the small stack of boxes in the small room at the back of the studio that was to be her office, she supposed. Searching for a solid hour, tongue jutting out of her mouth as she pushed past the disorganised mess that the light tan boxes held, the mess she calls her life.

Eventually finding what she was looking for, her paint stained fingers wrapping around the cold rubber of the wellies that had been a staple during her stay in England. She pulled the calf cut navy blue, with white polka dot, boots out of the box and kicks her feet out of her black biker boots, slipping them into the cold space where her memories live. She tests them out, standing in place and moving her weight from one leg to the other, she smiles remembering the events that had led to her purchasing them. She had been venturing through a national park in the south of the country, walking the length of the river that ran through it, with a bunch of photographer friends who were showing her the ropes. Somewhere between a rock path and the river she had lost her footing and before she knew it, she was ankle deep in freezing cold water. Gail was a fan of rain, but at rivers and wet feet… she drew the line.

She found something else in the boxes, and it quickly caught her attention, and sparked an idea. Pulling it free, she places it on the table, pushing back her countless tubes of acrylic colours until it sat safely. She glances around the room, eyes narrow, knowing what she needs but not being entirely sure where she had seen it last and then it was in front of her. She crosses the room and on her tiptoes, pulls out some large sheets of fabric that had been folded and placed on top of the shelving unit that housed her canvases. Bringing it back to the machine she pulls up two beer crates she used as stools, and got to work.

She had been hard at work for quite a while, pulling and pushing the material through the machine, a spur of the moment notion, executed perfectly as she held the finished product up in front of her, and smiles, Seth will be pleased. The light twinkling of her phone ringing, wakes her from her reverie, crossing the room she glances at the screen in confusion, an unknown series of numbers flashing across her display. She shrugs and then swipes her thumb across the screen before bringing it to her ear.

"Hello, is it possible to speak to Miss Gail Peck, please?…" a voice asks. Gail clears her throat and swallows.

"Um, yeah… speaking Can I help you?" she wonders, listening as the voice continues its speech.

"Hi, Miss Peck, I'm Lara Jacobs, Head of St Augustine's Academy. I saw your work a while back when you were travelling, my husband is a friend of your brothers. We visited his home, saw what he had showcased there and, well, I became quite enchanted with your work" the voice comes again, Gail finds herself a little lost for words but responds before she could be viewed as being rude.

"Oh…I… um… thanks"

"Miss Peck, I heard that you were back residing in the city and was wondering if you'd possibly like to maybe consider a few months placement here as an artist in residence. Our Art programme is a little thin on the ground these days, we could use someone of your formidable talents to spruce it up, give our students a helping hand…"

"Me?… you want me?" Gail asks in surprise, not entirely sure this isn't another of Steve's pranks, or a connection her mother was using her sway to force.

"You are Gail Peck, the artist are you not?" the woman inquires, sounding a little confused. Gail nods fast but then realises that her confirmation hasn't been vocalised and so she speaks up.

"Um, yeah… I am. So um, you said it's for a few months?" she asks, a little intrigued. She knew of St Augustines, it was a local school with a reputation for having its students excel in all areas of study. Most of the pupils went on to study at the best colleges Canada and the US had to offer, most parents would kill to get their children a place. Her own mother had been one of them. It had been the breaking point for whatever had passed as a relationship between them, when at the age of 13 she had told her mother she didn't wanted to spend the next five years of her education preparing for somewhere she never wanted to go.

"Well the standard is a full school year. But it having started already, well, you know. You could start after the Christmas holidays if you prefer and then stay until the end of the school year. You'd teach your own classes, approx ten students per class, and four classes a day, starting at 9am and finishing at 3… Weekends obviously are your own…"

Gail shakes her head in disbelief, blowing out a breath she smiles into the phone, "Wow, this is, um… I'm not a teacher, you know that right. I'm just an artist"

"You're more than qualified to teach art, maybe you'd like to come in later today and have a look around" Lara offers, and before Gail can agree, the electric blue fabric caught the corner of her eye and she declines.

"I can't …I um, I have a something I'm supposed to do this afternoon, but I um, I could come by tomorrow." she tries, hoping that the offer would still be there and smiling when she hears the reply.

"Tomorrow is perfect, come straight to the reception and ask for me… I'll give you a tour and we can talk a little more"

"Okay, I'll see you then" She breathes, a smile finding her face as she stares into the messy space, smiling from ear to ear.

"Fantastic, I look forward to seeing you"

Pressing the call end button, Gail slips her phone into her pocket and walks over to grab her jacket from the boxes she had draped it over. Sliding her arms into the sleeves slowly she finds herself breaking out into a peel of laughter. Things are finally looking up for her, her life was finally beginning to happen outside of the four walls of her studio, her art work had been hosted at a small independent gallery in the centre of the town, she thought it would attract a little attention, she never guessed it would bring job prospects. Walking over to the table and picking up the fabric she folds it neatly, the silk complying with ease as she stuffs it into the small pocket of her faux leather jacket and grabs her keys before heading for the door. She was beginning to think this day couldn't get any better.

He was a whirlwind, rushing through hallway in leaps that causes the wooden floorboards to press closer to one another through the pressure of his landing.

"Come on mommy we are going to be late, the swings are going to be full if we don't go now…" he whines, his hands finding his hips as he stomps his welly-clad feet and rolls his eyes impatiently.

"I'm coming, I'm coming…" Holly calls from the living room, sliding her hands into her fingerless gloves and pushing her glasses further up the bridge of her nose. She walks into the hallway and is meet with a now wide eye Seth who instantly begins shaking his head dramatically.

"Mommy those aren't your waterproofs, those are jeans, mommy you can't puddle jump in jeans, you just can't" he informs her, his tone a mixture of overtired and that childish obnoxiousness that makes a mother a little ashamed.

She glances down at herself and purses her lips together, after this morning's little moment she had lost some of her bounce and had spent the past thirty minutes ridding her room of the final remnants of her relationship with Kate. The duvet cover had been pulled from her sheets and filled with t-shirts, trinkets and a few more photographs she hadn't let herself be free of. She had carried it down the stairs, the weight of it over her shoulder finally lifting from her chest as she dropped it and its contents into the trash can at the front of the house.

"I can puddle jump just fine mister, my waterproofs are hiding somewhere today…"

"But what if you catch a cold…" he protests, attempting to stomp his feet once more, but noticing his mother's narrowed eyebrows and warningly tilted head, he resists.

"I'll be fine, I promise… Come on, let's go get to those swings" she states, placing a hand on his shoulder and turning him around as they head out the door and towards the park.

Hope you enjoyed it xx