Since LF is gone and LOST has taken a backseat, I felt I had to keep on writing to keep my character, my OC, Elizabeth Grecco, alive and well. To my fans and followers that were on here that read my first season of Elle, I apologize for never uploading the rest. But to those that still believe in her, as well, as me, please leave comments. LOST will never take a backseat in my life.

"Fly the ocean in a silver plane. See the jungle when it's wet with rain. Just remember 'til you're home again, you belong to me." -Michael Buble

Australia: On its Side.

The pleasant ding of the PA system alerted Elle to her current flight. She cocked her head to the side to double check and when the woman's Australian accent announced that Oceanic Flight 815 would be boarding, Elle, smoothed the front of her blouse, threw on her brown leather jacket, picked up her worn, messenger bag, and headed to the gate. Standing in line, she took notice of the people around her; that was something she didn't have to be paid to do, she liked to people watch, she was an observer.

A petite woman curled a blonde tress of hair around her finger and Elle nursed her lip as she noticed the woman's cuticles were bitten to the quick.

"Nervous," Elle mumbled to herself as she looked to her own polished fingernails and if it weren't for the thirty-dollar manicure she acquired while in Sydney, she'd be nipping at hers as well. What she had done, was careless. Careless, perhaps, but it was necessary. She had the papers in her bag and she focused on her daughter's face, luring her home, back in Los Angeles.

The young woman turned to check her surroundings and caught Elle's lingering gaze. Elle smiled politely and eyed the woman with care; she saw that she was round with child.

Elle pointed and asked, "How far along?"

The woman grinned, caressed her stomach with care, and shuffled from one foot to another; as if she was stepping on hot coals. I almost forgot what that's like, Elle smiled to herself as she took in the young woman's surreal expression.

"A few weeks left," she laughed, "but judging by all the kicking, I don't think they told him that."

She rolled her incandescent blue eyes and Elle couldn't help but laugh along with her. It was as if she had known her from somewhere and she couldn't place her. What about this woman made her think of someone else? She gave her the once over; petite, wild, waves of blonde hair, and those sparkling blue eyes. Scanning the mental cortex of her memories, faces began to rush past her, and slowly they began to stop, until one face presented itself; Lily. A warm smile fanned itself across her face.

"Oh gosh," she put a hand to her hair and pulled at some invisible knots, then she patted her face, "I don't have something on my face do I?" she asked Elle, her Australian accent laced with worry, "I was in sort of a hurry this morning."

"No, not at all," Elle came to, "I'm Elizabeth," she offered her hand, "you just remind me of someone."

The woman took her hand and shook it, "Claire," she smiled, "is she pregnant too?"

"Lily?" Elle didn't stifle the laugh that came with the imagery, "We have a strict rule with her, if she can't keep a plant alive, she has no shot at raising a child."

Claire laughed and her cheeks turned a rosy shade of red. She looked over her shoulder as the line began to move, and shuffled herself along. "Been there," she sighed, "in fact I'm pretty sure I left the stove on and forgot to water my plants, before I got a taxi this morning."

"Witty," Elle winked, "you two have that in common too."

"Are you going to see family, in Los Angeles," Elle inquired, "have them meet the new man in your life?" She pointed to Claire's rotund stomach for emphasis.

At this, Claire blanched and Elle knew she had said something to upset her. She placed a hand on the woman's shoulder and apologized.

"I should probably remove the foot I just shoved into my mouth," Elle bit her bottom lip.

"No," Claire brushed her hand off, carefully, "no, it's not you, it's just I'm going to meet a family, you know, potential parents, that are looking to adopt."

Elle nodded and Claire mentally kicked herself as the child within kicked at her as well,

"Oomph," she braced herself, "I don't know why I keep saying it's a 'him', but it's like I know," she looked up at Elle with those needy blue eyes, "you know?"

Elle smiled a familiar smile,

"That's intuition," Elle offered her and she searched within the breast pocket of her jacket and retrieved a card,

"If you need anything," she handed Claire the card, "while you're in Los Angeles," she tapped the front of the card, and Claire read the bold lettering,

Det. Elizabeth Q. Grecco, LAPD

Special Operations Task Force

(818)555-1516

"No offense, Elizabeth," Claire said her name with a bit of uncertainty, "but I'm sure this trip won't end with anyone in handcuffs."

"Turn the card over," Elle motioned with a circulating index finger, "there's the name of a Social Worker who is assigned to my cases," Elle smiled warmly, "she's the one who could really help you out."

"I just promote her, since she's basically family," Elle's eyes laughed as she read Lily's name on the back of the card.

Claire turned the card over and read the information. She played with her bottom lip mulling over Elle's offer and felt as if it was too good to be true. Claire wondered to herself, why anyone, let alone a stranger on a flight out of Sydney, would want to help her. Elle noticed Claire was uncomfortable and attempted to assuage the situation.

"Even if you just need a familiar face to help you through the adoption process," Elle smiled, "call me, okay?"

"I'm always around," Elle cocked her head to the side and chuckled, "and I promise you, no handcuffs," she held up her two hands, "I swear."

"That's awfully generous of you," Claire bit at her lip to stifle it from trembling, "but I'm not some charity case, you know."

"I know that," Elle placed her hand on the girl's shoulder once more and squeezed, "I also know that what you're going through is something you shouldn't have to do alone."

"So call me," Elle pointed to the gate, the line had begun to move towards the terminal, "day or night."

Claire waved the card, nodded, and with that small gesture, the child inside calmed himself, and Claire too was ready for the flight to Los Angeles.

Inside the plane, Elle passed several rows from First Class, and headed towards the midsection of the plane, looking for her aisle seat, in Business Class. On her way, she noticed Claire stuffing her carryon into the overhead compartment and they locked eyes. Elle waved and moved on past her and found her seat; to her left was a man, with a tawny complexion, dark curls, and poignant black eyes.

He straightened himself up and smiled as Elle tossed her carryon into the overhead compartment. She struggled and he stood to offer his assistance,

"May I be of assistance?"

He reached around her and gently pushed her carryon into its spot and Elle turned, awkwardly, and found herself standing too close to the man, who, when she inhaled, reminded her of hot, gritty, sand, and the salty air, that smothered the skin. She closed her eyes and reveled in the images and when she opened them again, the man, still had not moved.

"Thank you," Elle's lip curled, "for your assistance."

The man stepped back from her, eyed her strangely, but being one not inclined to linger he returned her smile, and agreed as she suggested they both take their seats. She slipped out of her leather jacket, turned to sit down, when another man, briskly walked past her and slammed into her shoulder, spinning her around.

"You mind?" Elle didn't care that she came off a bit arrogant, but he did catch her off guard, something that rarely happened in her line of profession. He didn't seem to flinch from her aggressiveness, instead his green eyes flittered, a speck of desire floated past them, and when he spoke, Elle was reminded of maple syrup, thick, and sweet.

"Can't say that I did, Brownie Bits," he nodded taking in her molten chocolate eyes and for a second she too can't take her eyes off of him, but he graciously excuses himself, tapping his boarding pass to his temple and sighing,

"No, I didn't mind at all."

She could not for the life of her get him out of her mind and as she settles into her seat she is overcome by a warmth that starts in her stomach and rides its way up to her chest. She feels the plane crushing like a sardine can all around her and she exhales, the imagery too much to handle.

"Are you okay?" The man to her left asks and she releases her hands from the seat and reaches a shaky hand to the call button.

"Fine," she feigned a smile, "nothing a drink couldn't fix."

"Allow me," he presses the button for her and offers his hand, "I'm Sayid, and you are?"

"Elizabeth," she thanks him again, "but you can call me Elle."

"My pleasure, Elizabeth."

She pursed her lips and slowly began to smile, the warmth in his eyes, consoled her. She instinctively cocked her head to the side and with humor in her eyes shook his hand,

"Doesn't sound so bad when you say it."

Sayid had called the flight attendant over, and ordered their drinks. A vodka for Elizabeth, and a diet cola for himself. He wanted to pursue the conversation, with this beautiful, yet distant, woman, but as he glanced at her, he noticed she had focused on the aisle, ahead of them, staring determined and lost in thought. Instead, he adjusted the air conditioning above his head, and leaned back in his chair. He inhaled her perfume, light, and airy, with a hint of sand and surf, and sipped on his drink.

She shouldn't have been in Australia. She shouldn't have left that weekend, without her supervisor's permission. Hell, she may have been the number one detective in the Special Ops Unit, but that didn't give her the right to leave Los Angeles. Technically it was her weekend off; technically that meant she was still 'on-call'. She had numerous messages from her partner, which she deleted right away; his heart was in the right place, but she wasn't ready to hear him rant at her hastiness. Two were from her supervisor, wondering where the paperwork was on the case she was working on. Elle returned his promptly, directing him to her top drawer, third file folder in, and told him she'd see him on Monday morning.

Thinking back to the look on Sully's face when she located him at the hotel, she was glad she had left town. It wasn't her fault that he had skipped the legal proceedings, took flight and refuge in Sydney, Australia of all places, in the arms of his lover; the bane of Elle's existence. Nevertheless, it was just like Sully, to leave her, wanting. She despised having to rely on him and he knew that. Their divorce, albeit tedious, was final. The beatings, the bruises, the trips to the ER were over. She filed for full custody of their two year old daughter, and he absconded, the day of the hearing. She promised her lawyer that she'd leave it up to the police department to find him.

Bernard Nadler just wasn't quick enough to realize, she was the police department. And it wasn't until after trying to reach her, on her cell phone, and work cell, hearing the same message to her voicemails repeatedly, did he realize she had already booked a flight to Sydney. Dropping the phone back into its cradle with a small sigh, the old man shook his head; he wouldn't want to be in Sullivan's shoes, the moment Elle located his worthless hide.