A/N: For the purposes of this fic, please ignore the events of 'The Other Woman'; there has only ever been one woman in Ben's life and that's Annie. Also, my German is about as good as Sayid's, so forgive me if the grammar is completely wrong.
Alone in the semi-darkness of the operating room, Benjamin Linus waited.
He had paid the veterinarian – one Dr. Werner – a large sum of money for the use of the surgery and for his silence. Werner had agreed immediately; the man had debts and Ben had been generous. It was for emergencies only; a place to go if Jarrah was hurt in the line of duty. Neither of them could risk being seen somewhere so public as a hospital.
It was an odd alliance, but so far, it had worked well. Jarrah had proved himself a reliable and expert assassin and Ben took great personal delight in having absolute control over the man who had once subjected him to torture. It had been relatively easy to recruit him after what happened on the freighter and the incident in Irvine. Jarrah was out for vengeance and Ben could point him in the right direction.
They had been in Berlin for several weeks now. Ben knew that Widmore had an employee based here and had sent Sayid to gather information from her, to find clues to the whereabouts of their mutual enemy. An 'economist', he was calling himself. Ben knew exactly what Widmore's work entailed and economics had very little to do with it. Now Sayid had been hurt, after getting too close to the girl and leaving himself vulnerable. It had been his first mistake, but it was a crucial one and Ben was far from impressed. He had something much more important to do that day and this was an irritating distraction. He also regarded Sayid's rather fast recovery time with more than a little distaste. Nadia had only been dead a few months. She had been the reason Sayid was on Flight 815. He had claimed she was the love of his life. Knowing what he did about Sayid's involvement with both Shannon Rutherford and now Widmore's employee, Ben was sceptical.
Widmore's men had approached Sayid soon after his return from the island, wanting answers, asking if the others were still alive. Sayid had refused to co-operate. The next day, he had arrived at Nadia's house to find her body lying in a mess of dried blood on the living-room floor. Ben, who had been monitoring each of the so-called 'Oceanic Six' for some time, had used Sayid's grief and guilt against him, convincing him to become his hired killer. Maybe Sayid had loved her after all, in his own way. It certainly wasn't the same way Ben loved Annie.
He could have looked for her eighteen years ago, after the Purge. If he had chosen to, he could have visited her regularly, splitting his time between Annie and the island. But he hadn't dared. He hadn't wanted to risk Widmore finding out who she was, or her connection to him. He had only ever wanted her to be safe. Since his latest departure from the island, however, the danger had become ten times greater and Ben knew that the best way to protect her now was by changing tactics and keeping her close.
Less than an hour ago, he had finally tracked her down. After months of searching the world for her, hindered by having to work under the radar, he had found out her address and telephone number and could not believe his good fortune. As if fate had willed it that way, drawing them back together without their knowledge, she had been living in Berlin for the last six years, only half an hour's train ride from where he was staying. He walked over to where he had hung up his jacket and retrieved a mobile phone from the pocket. He had memorised her number the first time he had read it, running the digits over and over in his mind ever since. As he began to punch in the numbers on the keypad, he was a little alarmed to discover that his hands were shaking. He brought the phone to his ear and listened to it ring; once, twice, three times, four...
"Hallo?"
She had only said one word but he recognised her voice instantly; gentle, warm, familiar. His Annie.
"Hallo? Wer ist dieses?"
He knew he should speak. He had to say something, now, before she hung up.
"Können Sie mich hören?"
He wanted to hear her speak in English. He wanted to hear her say his name.
"Dieses ist nicht lustig."
This was ridiculous. He couldn't speak now, he had waited too long. It had been a mistake to call her. Her voice wasn't enough; Ben needed to see her again, face to face. It would be the first time they had spoken in eighteen years; it shouldn't be over the phone.
The line went dead. With an almost inaudible sigh, Ben turned the phone off, removed the back and slid out the memory card, then took up a pair of surgical scissors and cut the card into pieces. Outside in the corridor, the dogs began to bark. Quickly composing himself, Ben turned to see Sayid stagger to the doorway. With a great deal of regret, he resigned himself to the fact that he would have to wait a little longer to see Annie.
"Take your shirt off," he instructed.
Eighteen Years Ago
"Annie, you're going to have to leave the island for a while."
"What?"
She had returned home to find Ben waiting for her in the kitchen, a packed suitcase by the door.
"You have to leave today. Now, in fact. I hope you don't mind, I've already packed your things."
"Says who? Did Gerald tell you this?"
"I'm telling you. Please, Annie, I don't have time to explain. Do you remember when I told you that there would come a time when I would need you to do something for me and I made you promise you would do it, no questions asked? Well, this is it."
She did not move from the doorway. "Tell me what's going on, Ben," she demanded, a steely edge creeping into her voice.
He walked over to her and laid a hand on her shoulder. "I'm afraid I can't do that, Annie. But it's bad. And you can't be here when it happens."
"When what hap-"
"Annie, listen to me," he said, now gripping both her shoulders and staring at her intently. "You're not safe here. We're going to leave the barracks and head to the north shore of the island. There are some people waiting there for us. They'll take you somewhere safe."
"Ben..."
"Once you reach land, go wherever you like. Start a new life. There's a Swiss bank account with four million dollars in it in the name of Camille Moriarty. The details are in the case."
She recognised the name from a book, but could not recall which. "Who's Camille Moriarty?"
"You are." He took something from his pocket and handed it to her: a Swiss passport, pristine and freshly printed. Her photograph was pasted inside, next to this new name and a birth date which was not hers. She stared at it in disbelief.
"How did you get this?", she asked. "And where the hell did you get four milli-"
"Don't contact anyone from your family and don't talk about this place to a soul. Do you understand?"
"Ben-"
"Do you understand?" He took hold of her again, almost shaking her. His grip on her shoulders was forceful enough to bruise.
"What about my parents?", she said quietly.
"I'll take care of them." It wasn't a lie, not exactly, but Ben felt a little ashamed at the tastelessness of the double meaning.
"What about you?"
"I'm needed here."
"Will I see you again?", she asked, her voice cracking and her eyes filling with tears.
"I don't know," he answered, looking down and blinking rapidly. "Just don't try to find me. Ever. It's not safe."
She stared at him, long and hard, trying to compose herself. "If things are really that bad, Ben, then there's no way I'm leaving you."
"It's for your own good. I need you to be safe, Annie."
"I'm serious, Ben. You're going to have to drag me off this island kicking and screaming."
"Well, that would draw too much attention. I'd just chloroform you." The look on his face was enough to show that he was deadly serious. They stood in silence for a few moments, inches apart, his hands still holding her arms.
"I don't know what I'll do out there without you," she said finally.
"I love you, Annie," he said softly, drawing her towards him and holding onto her tightly. "I always will, no matter what happens. I need you to remember that."
"When all this is over – whatever it is - you'd better find me again," she said, her tear-stained cheek brushing his own as she whispered into his ear. "Come back to me, Ben, do you hear? I'll be waiting, always."