Gloriosa

A LOST Fanfiction

Disclaimer: LOST and all of its characters and situations belong to… well, Disney, actually. Isn't that weird? And I certainly wouldn't presume to own Ben… Circe Widmore *is* mine however.

Summary: Ben and Charles are playing a game that may be the longest con of all. When Widmore's other daughter crashes with 815 will she become a pawn in their game, or is she destined for a much greater role? (AU no time travel Ben/OC??? Sawyer/OC???)

Episode 2: Co-Pilot pt 2

Circe had been so glad to find her pack laying in the sad beneath a small about of plane debris that she had allowed Sawyer (as the man had introduced himself) to hold on to her lighter for a while. She didn't smoke anyway; she just carried the old Zippo with her because it was cool. She'd had in since her last year of school.

Now the sky had dimmed to deep blue and early stars peeked out along the eastern horizon, where they weren't obscured by clouds. She sat down beside the main signal fire with Sayid and a young man who was scribbling on some tape around his fingers. He'd gotten as far as F A.

"Hey," she said, smiling at Sayid.

"Hello again, Circe," he said, without taking his eyes off the fire.

"It's getting a little chilly, huh?" Circe had been sitting with Sawyer while he smoked, but she'd been unable to find anything to put on over her tank top.

The young man looked up. He was blonde, and blue eyed. Circe felt like she had seen him before. "Er, you can have my sweat shirt if you like." He had a British accent.

She smiled and shook head. "Thank you, but I'll be alright. It's warm here."

"Say, are you from England too," he asked.

"London," she nodded, "But it's been a while. Have we, er, met before?"

He grinned. "Don't think so, but maybe you've seen me on the telly. I'm Charlie Pace."

Circe bit her lip, thinking, "Charlie Pace, Charlie Pace… not the guitar player from Drive Shaft?" The band had exploded in popularity a few years before, back when she'd still been going back and forth between England and the States.

"Got it in one," Charlie said. "Not everybody would have remembered."

"I knew a few girls in my class who had you pasted on the covers of their notebooks," she laughed. "I missed the song after I moved to America. Are you guys still touring?"

Charlie's face fell. "Er, not exactly. We were just about to do a reunion tour."

Circe wondered what had happened to break them up, but was too polite to ask. Instead she said, "Well, look at it his way, thanks to the crash I bet you guys'll get great publicity."

He brightened. "Hey, I bet you're right."

"I'm Circe, by the way."

"A pleasure."

They shook hands. Circe got some of the still-wet black marker on her hand.

"Er, sorry about that," Charlie said.

"Don't worry about it."

They sat in silence for a moment. Charlie went back to doodling on his fingers.

Circe looked over her shoulder and saw an extremely large man with dense, curly hair passing out in-flight meal tins.

She looked back over at Charlie and Sayid. "There's a guy passing out food. I'm going to get some. Either of you…?"

Sayid shook his head, but Charlie asked her to bring him some back. As she was walking away from the fire she heard Sayid speak.

"You think they would have come by now."

She kept walking.

"Hey, uh, you," she said, when she was close enough to the big guy. "You got a couple of those to spare?"

The man looked surprised at first. "Huh? Oh yeah, no problem." He handed her a pair of the tins, and some plastic silverware.

"Thanks," she said, "You're a real life saver."

"Yeah, well…"

"Don't be modest; somebody needs to think about the practical aspects of being stuck on a desert island." She paused. "What's your name?"

"It's Hugo. You can call me—"

Circe didn't find out what she could call him until later, because at that moment a strange metallic crashing noise broke through the jungle. As Circe turned her head to find the source of the noise she half expected to see a two-legged Imperial AT-AT stomping through the trees.

She saw nothing at all, but the sound continued, seeming to come closer. She followed Hugo and a growing number of others a little closer to the tree line to investigate. It was the Godzilla response. Get really close, and find out too late that you should have been running the other way.

To Circe's shock and amazement as another crashing, clanging noise reached their ears, some of the trees a little ways off shook, and bent.

"Did anybody see that?" someone asked.

"Yeah," breathed Hugo in disbelieve.

Circe wasn't sure she believed it either. What did that? A monster? A machine? If it was a machine, perhaps there were people there. An infrastructure of technology that would help them get home all the faster. But as the crashing continued, and was joined by a strange keening sound, somewhere between a whistle and a howl, Circe didn't believe that was the case.

Watching trees shake and bend as the source of the noise seemed to move great distances in an instant, Circe thought that it was much more in line with her studies in the paranormal and occult. She was about to go for her pack to get her EMF meter, when she cursed herself. She'd packed it in her main luggage, not her carry on.

The path of destruction continued for almost a minute, before fading away with a final, distant whine.

In front of her she heard Charlie half-whisper, "Terrific."

She couldn't help but agree with him.

000

A fifteen year old Circe stared fixedly at the strange plant like drawings in the book, before her father put his glass down on the page she was examining.

"Daddy!" she protested.

"Why don't you put that rubbish away and do something useful Circe. Shouldn't you be revising for your test this week?"

She silently cursed 'Involved Parent Charles Widmore'. Weren't rich old men supposed to ignore their children and let the help raise them?

"The Voynich Manuscript is NOT rubbish," she protested. "A cipher that goes back hundreds of years without being cracked is important no matter what it turns out to say. Besides, you're one to talk; I know you own plenty of weird old documents, and folk legends. Like all that stuff about the Black Rock."

Her father looked deeply affronted. "That's different. I know what casts the shadow I'm chasing. And be that as it may you are my daughter and you'll do as I say."

"Fine!" she shoved the book away, nearly dumping the glass of expensive alcohol. Her father picked it up, and swirled the liquid in the glass.

"Why can't you be more like your sister? She's got her feet on the ground."

Circe crossed her arms and looked away. "You wouldn't approve of Penny so much if you knew who she was dating," she muttered.

"What was that?"

000

On the second day, it rained. It was a hard, drenching rain that came suddenly, without warning and drove everyone on the beach to find cover, except for John, who stayed where he say, and seemed to glory in the rain.

Circe found herself shivering, huddled under a large piece of overhanging wreckage. She hadn't slept at all the night before, aside from perhaps a few moments of unconsciousness in the minutes before dawn, sitting beside the fire. She hadn't slept on the plane, either. She didn't feel tired, though; she felt like a dull electric current was running through her body.

She wished she had something to do to disperse the energy. Waiting around was killing her.

Eventually the rain tapered off, and as Circe came out of hiding she found herself face to chest with Sawyer.

"Hey there, cupcake," he drawled, grinning lazily at her.

"Hello, Sawyer. What can I do for you?"

He held up her lighter. "Came to return this to ya."

"You run out of cigarettes already?" she asked.

"Not quite. I found me another lighter."

"Oh, good." She smiled.

"Yeah, I found some more luggage over by the edge of the jungle. I thinking there might be some more if I head in a little further. You wanna come with?"

Circe considered the proposal. "We heard that thing again," she said. "While it was raining."

"Aw, ya'll aren't afraid of no boogie monster, are ya?"

She shrugged. "Not especially. How come I'm invited?"

"Might need somebody to help me carry the loot. Saw ya bench pressin' dead guys yesterday with Mr. Clean."

She snorted back laughter. "His name's John. And they weren't dead."

"Sure."

"And we should tell someone where we're going, in case we, you know, fail to come back."

"Anything you say, Rapunzel."

They didn't go particularly far into the jungle. They found a number of bags only a few hundred yards away from the beach. Sadly, they didn't find any of her luggage.

Circe pawed through a large green duffle bag. It had a lot of underwear and socks in it, and at first she was disappointed, until she reached further in, and found a glass bottle, miraculously undamaged, probably thanks to all the cotton padding.

She held it up and declare, "I found where all the rum's gone."

Sawyer looked over from where he was kneeling at some other bags. "Nice job kiddo. Say, are you old enough to have that stuff."

"I'm twenty-one," she lied.

He held out his hand, grinning. "Better let me hold onto it, just in case. But I'll remember it was you who found then big one."

000

When Charles Widmore strolled in the door that night Circe thought she hadn't seen her father look this happy in ages. He looked like the cat that had gotten a hold of the canary.

She looked up from her dinner, "Well, don't keep me in the dark, daddy. What's got you so excited?"

"Be patient Circe, and I just might tell you." Her was cradling a small wooden box like it was a baby. He set it on the mahogany dining table. He sat down across from her.

"Can you guess what it is?' he asked.

She studied it, and raised an eyebrow. "The ark of the covenant? A magic box?"

He chuckled. "Nothing quite so mundane, darling daughter. I'll give you a hint. It involves the Black Rock."

She stared at him, and she stared at it. In the years since Penny had left home, Circe's father had opened up to her just a little bit on the subject of his continuing quest. Nothing concrete, just enough to whet her appetite for the mystery.

"The Black Rock… It can't be, is it the journal?"

"Indeed. It is the first mate's journal, and it tells if a doomed journey."

This was better than the Voynich manuscript. It felt like it had a special, personal meaning for her. "Will you let me look at it?" she asked. Ashe practically begged. If there was one thing Circe loved, it was a mystery.

"Perhaps. It depends on what it says."

000

"Hey, look at what I found," Circe said, holding up a pair of shiny metal handcuffs.

Sawyer glanced over, and, instead of being amused, as Circe imagined, he frowned. "where'd you find those, Rapunzel?"

"They were over here, just sitting on the ground." She motioned to a patch of wet earth where she'd seen them gleaming in the mud. "You think they fell out of somebody's bag?"

"Could be, kiddo. Or could be somebody was wearin' 'em when we crashed."

Now Circe frowned too. She hadn't thought of that. "You know I think I remember some kind of policeman on the plane."

"Looks like we got ourselves a locked room mystery. You hand those over, and I'll try to figure out who done it."

She nodded and handed them to him. "I don't thinkwe can carry much more anyway. We should head back before they decide we were eaten."

"You're the boss, kiddo."

The each picked up a share of the bags from where they'd piled them.

Circe paused, straining to listen. She thought she heard the noise again. "Did you hear that?"

"Sounds like it's a long way off," he shrugged. "Let's go."

She wondered how he could be so nonchalant about it. "Is this your first time stuck on a creepy island?"

"I watched plenty of Gilligan's Island."

"Oh fantastic, you can build us a radio out of coconuts," she said wryly.

"Naw, that's McGuyver."

000

If Circe had realized they would start a fight between Sawyer and Sayid, she would have kept the handcuffs to herself. A ring had formed around them, as if it were a schoolyard scuffle, but the two were going at it with fists and curses.

She was exceedingly grateful when Jack turned up to help beak them up.

"Hey, break it up. Break it up," Jack said.

"Tell everyone what you told me. Tell them that I crashed the plane. Go on, tell them—"

"The shoe fits, buddy," Sawyer spat.

She watched as they were hauled off one another, and into separate corners.

Jack turned to the observers. "What is going on?"

Circe held up the handcuffs, guiltily. "I found these out in the jungle."

Sawyer raised his chin angrily. "This guy was sitting in the back row of business class the whole flight, never got up. Hands folded underneath a blanket. And for some reason, just pointing this out, the guy I saw next to him didn't make it."

"Thank you so much for observing my behavior," Sayid growled.

" Don't think I saw them pull you out of line before we boarded."

Sayid forced his way forward about to go after Sawyer again.

"Bring it."

A brunette woman stepped between them before Circe could. "Stop," she said.

Sayid slunk back, still glaring at Sawyer, who was returning the angry gaze.

The brunette kept talking, possibly just to keep the fight defused. "We found the transceiver but it's not working. Can anybody help?" She held up what looked like some kind of walkie-talkie, but was clearly supposed to get a much longer range

Sayid spoke up. "Yes. I might be able to."

"Oh great, let's trust this guy," Sawyer growled, still pissed over. Circe shot him a glance, but he didn't back down.

"Hey, we're all in this together, man. Let's treat each other with a little respect," Hugo called from the crowd. Circe agreed with him, wishing that cooler heads could prevail.

"Shut up, lardo," Sawyer snapped.

Circe saw the hurt look on Hugo's face and sighed, vowing to keep any new discoveries to herself, until she was sure they wouldn't cause a scene.

"Sawyer," she said.

"Mind your business, kiddo."

Circe was about to retort that it was her business when Jack cut it. "Hey, give it a break."

"Whatever you say, doc. You're the hero." Sawyer shot them all a last angry glance, and slunk away.

Circe hesitated and then went after him. "That wasn't very diplomatic," she said, after they were out of earshot.

"Yeah? Well I ain't no diplomat." He kicked a puff of sand up, and pulled a cigarette out of his pocket.

"Clearly."

To be continued…

Author's note: And that's the end of chapter two! As you can probably tell, we're still following the show's timeline pretty closely, although there are a couple of changes. Walt found the handcuffs originally.

There will be more of Ben soon, I promise. I can't keep that manipulative sneak away for too long 3

Just as an aside, I'm sure people know, but in case anyone doesn't, Circe's name is pronounced "seer-see".