Disclaimer: Harper's Island and the characters are not my property nor my creations. They belong to and are copyrighted by CBS. Sarah Wellington, however, is mine all mine and I'm delighted to claim her as such. Feel free to consider her a Mary Sue if you want, it won't bother me. But give the girl a chance-you're going to love her!

Secondary disclaimer: For those who are re-reading this story, I have changed the ages of Sarah and the other characters. Go me the novice fanfic writer! It took getting to the fourth chapeter of this story to realize it was going to take forever for things to progress is Sarah was so much younger. Thus the change. Instead of a seven yeard difference between Sarah and Shane, it's now just over three.

She Knew Him When...

He could remember the first time he saw her.

There wasn't anything remarkable about the day; it was June, hot. It was like any other day during the summer-boring and predictable.

Aside from home and school, his Dad's boat, the Pride and Joy, was where most of his time was spent. That day was no exception, and he'd been long at work on some torn netting when it happened.

He'd been moving mechanically at that point, bored to tears when Thomas Wellington and his family made their annual descent onto the Island.

His six year old eyes blinked a few times, squinting as the sun hit them when they looked up at the commotion. Diana Wellington moved past with the eldest, Shea, barely taking note of the stir their arrival had caused. Trish Wellington wasn't far behind. She laughed gaily as a weedy boy about his own age stepped onto the dock further down.

Blue met blue as his eyes rolled heavenward.

Henry Dunn was such a looser.

And watching Trish run down towards the other boy, he decided she was an even bigger one for thinking Henry was anything special.

Summer kids. Sheesh.

A smirk made its way across his lips before he could stop it, but the nudge to his shoulder quickly brought him back to earth.

"You'll be here for supper at the rate you're goin'." His father's tone was mild despite the rebuke. He nodded towards the forgotten netting. "Focus, boy. Then you can go with the others."

Oh, yeah. The others. He barely managed to hide a second eye-roll. As if that's what he wanted to do.

"Yessir," he mumbled. His eyes darted downwards to the work at hand. But they moved back up when a pair of smooth looking leather shoes stepped into his line of sight. They shifted a little as if they were bearing extra weight.

"Max." Thomas Wellington had stopped in front of his father's boat. His eyes inspected Pride and Joy with detached interest before shifting his weight once more. "I don't suppose you have any hands you can spare the next few weeks? I'll be happy make it worth their while-and yours."

He'd seen his father's mouth open to decline, but quickly stop at the mention of compensation.

Typical.

"I think we can." He forced a smile at his son while his eyes ordered him to not stir up any hornet's nests. "We'll manage just fine. Won't we, son?"

"Sure, Dad," he agreed, voice sullen. His eyes drew back to the taller figure of Thomas "I-can-buy-anything-I-want" Wellington and paused in their angry perusal.

He was holding a very young girl.

No wonder he'd been moving around. Though for a while he thought maybe it had been caused by that stick up his-

"-as always. It's so nice to see the little one finally joining your family on the Island, sir!" His father was saying, voice more jovial. His salt and pepper hair moved as he nodded fervently. "Children are such a blessing."

A more genuine smile touched the steel of Thomas Wellington's eyes as he looked at his youngest daughter.

"Her name is Sarah," he said proudly. "Named after my mother."

"She's pretty." He said it without thinking, really. Because while his old man had been yammering about children being a blessing, he'd been examining the youngest of the Wellington clan. Dark hair, blue eyes, and a very stern expression.

Pretty much a chip off of the old Wellington block.

But were children supposed to look that serious? He wondered. Maybe it was him True, she didn't seem bothered by his hard stare. If anything, she was eyeing him just as curiously.

"Thank you, ah…" there was a searching quality to his tone.

Thomas Wellington had no idea who he was, he realized. It may have ticked him off a little, but the sudden movement of child's chubby arms distracted him from his train of thought as his father supplied his name.

"Shane, sir. Me and my wife's only." A line drew itself between Wellington's eyes before he nodded.

"You helped Henry and the other boy, what's his name-"

"Jimmy," Shane said curtly.

"Yes, James. You helped with the boat last summer." His eyes flicked to his Dad once more and threw out, "He can help out again if he wants to earn a little pocket money."

"Yeah, lots of places to go spending money around here," Shane muttered. He ignored the hard look his father sent him as he turned back to the netting.

"He'll be glad to, sir." Max answered, eyeing his son coolly. "Anything you need, he'll be happy to be of assistance."

"But Dad-" Shane shot up in protest. His fists clenched angrily around the net, thinking of how the time with his friends would be cut short.

"'But Dad' nothing!" Max hissed. "You could use the extra discipline. Maybe then you'll learn to stop shooting your mouth off whenever you feel like it."

Shane's mouth closed into a thin line and he tossed the netting over the bench he'd been sitting on.

Either oblivious to the mini-family drama or simply not caring, Thomas Wellington gave a vague nod in their direction.

"Good, good. Tomorrow then. Say eight? I want to take my girls sailing before noon."

He was turning on his heel to leave, Shane's black look bouncing between him and his Dad when it hit him.

Literally.

His hands reached out to stop the object from hitting him in the face, and in the process dropped his reclaimed netting into the water before he could stop it With a frustrated sigh he glared at the tiny stuffed rabbit the youngest Wellington had thrown at him.

"Pain in the ass," he swore, lobbing it down to the boat's deck. A stray brown wave fell over one eye as he looked down the dock at the little dark haired assassin.

She was laughing.

"Pain in the ass!" he repeated, sliding down against the side. The rest of the Wellingtons were bad enough. But that one? That kid was going to drive him insane.

And unfortunately, he had no idea how true that would be.