That's Why My Hand Was Shaking by Teenage Anomaly
You in the dark
You in the pain
You on the run
Living a hell
Living your ghost
Living your end
Never seem to get in the place that I belong
Don't wanna lose the time
Lose the time to come
Whatever you say it's alright
Whatever you do it's all good
Whatever you say it's alright
Silence is not the way
We need to talk about it
If heaven is on the way
Chapter Five: London Calling
Two Years Previously
There were many things Elliot would rather be doing than following a loud, boisterous and large family around London. However, that happened to be precisely what he was doing.
The mother, intent on herding her brood safely onto the train, sounded slightly stressed as the father shouted at the youngest girl to hurry. The littlest boy, a tiny, fuzzy-headed thing, was bouncing everywhere as Elliot stepped onto the Tube train. The two eldest stepped onto the train next, looking alarmingly alike, bickering good-naturedly and grinning, the boy being downright weird and the girl using cutting sarcasm along with a toothy grin.
The mother sank into a chair, looking exhausted, and the younger girl, a child who would obviously grow up to be stunningly pretty, sat next to her and immediately lay her head on her mothers arm, a wide smile on her face. They all had the same smile- wide and somewhat crooked. The little boy in the soccer jersey went to stand next to his father, whose shirt was tucked in and whose eyes, surprisingly and violently blue, just like those of his eldest children, were hidden behind dark shades.
The eldest two continued laughing at each other and Elliot smirked whilst listening to their childlike, though admittedly amusing banter.
He'd adopted so many disguises over the course of the past week and a half the family had been in London, he rather felt he deserved an Oscar. Today he'd donned an almost black wig and had darkened his skin several shades and even used a prosthetic nose, making him look distinctly Arabic. Even if they'd seen him before, he doubted they'd recognize him. There was nothing of the green eyed, fair-haired immortal in this swarthy man's face.
Although- the eldest girl had looked had him oddly this morning as they passed each other entering Finchley Station. Elliot had watched this girl grow up, and he knew the difference between the appraising look she gave a man she thought was attractive and the one she'd given him. It'd been a quiet, searching look- and it hadn't been the first one of it's kind he'd been given by this child. He'd bumped into her several times over the course of her life and especially in the past week and a half, and that's when those looks had started. Elliot didn't even think she realized it, but she knew him, in a way.
The train began moving and the family was focused on their own affairs, something that relieved Elliot, although Katty did glance his way more than once, that odd look on her face. Whether she was checking him out or making sure he wasn't armed; Elliot didn't know. It was hard to tell what this girl was thinking.
The seat next to him creaked and Elliot glanced over and knew, immediately, that this man was not from England or even Europe, and neither did he have any interest at arriving at the next station. The man looked at Elliot and gave him a coarse smile before nodding at the oblivious Katty, who was still grinning like she knew something the rest of the train didn't, her round cheeks lifted happily, no longer looking at Elliot.
"Pretty one, isn't she?"
Elliot said nothing, simply looked hard at the man, who leaned forward and whispered in his ear, "I know what you are. I know about her, the island, and your brother. Bring her by Whitechapel at midnight tonight."
Elliot said nothing, simply looked at the man, who looked back at him.
"What if I decide I don't really want to?"
The man quirked an eyebrow. "You know who I am, Alpert, and you know who I work for. If you don't bring me the girl… then he's is going to blow up Venice. So, you see, either way, she dies. But if you bring her tonight, she'll be the only one who dies."
Elliot glanced over at Katty, who was now making a face at her father, sending him into gales of laughter. He knew what would await her if he complied to the requests of this man.
"Except killing won't be the only thing you do to her, will it?"
The man laughed. "Not what you're thinking of. We've got… ah, professionals for that; we don't want virgin maids that don't know what they're doing. We'll run some tests on her, of course, but she won't be treated like some experimental toy."
"And I have your word on that?"
The man's eyes glittered, but he nodded.
"My word."
"Hmm. Too bad we both know your word isn't worth anything."
The Shermans got off the train, Katty throwing Elliot one last odd glance, before she disappeared into the sea of people.
Elliot tried to stifle the odd pain in his heart by thinking about what Richard would say. He rose too, and turned back to the man once he'd reached the doors.
"It's going to take a large bomb to destroy Venice. I suggest you start looking now."
And without a backward glance, he stepped off the train and followed after his family.
-
Elliot was skulking around Whitechapel, simply waiting for the man to show his face. Katty was miles away, in her dorm, sound asleep- he'd peered in her window before coming down here.
A laughing, drunken British couple wandered past him, not even glancing at him. When Elliot or Richard went into old cities, they were hardly noticed, because, in most cases, they were older than the city surrounding them- and that, the age, somehow provided a very powerful camouflage.
There. A flicker in the light- it was him. He wasn't even trying to be subtle, his hands shoved in the pockets of his long coat, standing in the light from the lamps.
The ghosts of 1888 lingered, women who hadn't deserved their horrific fates.
The man turned, and Elliot realized that it wasn't a man at all. It was a woman, medium height, thin, with short hair and high cheekbones. Elliot's brow furrowed. Was she working for Widmore? Or someone much more sinister?
He didn't think so.
The woman turned more and, although it should have been impossible for her to see him, shrouded in darkness as he was, he saw her arched brows tighten infinitesimally before she began making her way over to him, her coat swaying around her thin thighs. Realizing there was nothing for it, Elliot straightened up and stepped out into the light, just a few feet from her. The woman didn't look remotely surprised to see him.
"Are you Elliot?"
Her accent was French.
"Yes."
"Wondered if you'd ever turn up."
He just looked at her and she sighed.
"Listen, why don't you come get a drink with me? This is going to take a bit of explaining."
And so they set off to the Ten Bells (another sting from 1888) and she told him her story, her extraordinary story, and something in her glass green eyes made it hard for Elliot not to believe her. She told him about her family history (he knew something about stakes and fire and false accusations) and how the gift had manifested itself in her, generations later. How she'd Seen him, and come to him. She knew about the island, and, somehow, Jacob.
"What's your name?" he asked her finally, slowly, searchingly, his long fingers wrapped around a tankard of ale. It was better than American, but the best liquor had been made during the Prohibition.
She looked back at him, that short, straight, wheat-blonde hair falling into her eyes, before she said, "Maggie."
-
A month passed. Then two. Then ten. A year. A year and a half, and Venice was still there. Of course, Elliot had expected it to be.
And, when he wasn't watching over Katty or spending time on the island, he was searching for answers- for starters, why Venice? What was there that Widmore wanted to hide or destroy?
And, more importantly, was it even Widmore these people were working for? There were forces much larger than he and Ben battling for the island, and lately, things had begun to happen. Unsettling things; things that indicated the old wars may be on the brink of revival. And that could not spell well for the bulk of humanity.
Elliot didn't really think it was Widmore's men; he'd watched him grow from a boy to a man and though he was hard and did what was necessary, he'd never been cruel and didn't particularly like taking innocent lives, though he would if he had to.
However, Jacob's enemy- he and Richard didn't even know the man's name, and they were Jacob's closest confidants- didn't mind killing innocents. Jacob, in fact, suspected that there was a part of him which liked it.
So, the question remained… what was in Venice?
-
Two years had passed since Elliot met Maggie, and the Sherman family was again in London, and, again, Elliot was following them once more. Two weeks flew by, and then they were going home, and so was he, back to the island, back to Maggie.
Then Katty was headed out again and Ted, her father, had been made an offer he couldn't refuse to teach in London for three weeks, and they were all leaving. Elliot watched from behind a newspaper in the airport as Katty hugged her family goodbye as she left with the student ambassador program, swearing she'd meet up with her family in London.
She got on the plane, sitting awkwardly next to an attractive boy in the program who stared just a little too intently at her, and Elliot sat a few rows behind them, unable to ignore the knowledge that something was very, very wrong here.
A week passed with no problems-
And then Katty got herself lost in Venice.
He watched her wander around, clutching at the frayed straps of her bag, her eyes wide and her jaw clenched, a sign that said 'fuck-off, I'm terrified' stamped very securely on her forehead. Elliot sighed, chuckling and rolling his eyes at this girl whom he'd grown to be very fond of.
Later, he'd wonder that he hadn't caught her in the act when she was getting him drunk. It was done perfectly- very smooth and very impressive.
And, under the influence of alcohol and the intoxicating feeling of danger close by in the city, she'd slowly begun to morph from a girl he considered a mixture of a sister and a best friend into something exciting, mysterious, and toxic. And when you'd lived as long as Elliot, not many things seemed mysterious. He'd been to Area Fifty-One, for Christ's sake.
But there she was, looking up at him with those round, analytical eyes and her mouth set in a firm line and he'd-
Fallen asleep. Right on top of her.
He came to a few seconds later when she murmured his name and wrapped her little fingers in his hair, and he just hadn't been able to help himself.
She tasted sweet and young, like sarcasm and roses and a girl on the verge of being a woman.
-
Pain.
Katty's shocked eyes.
Then he was falling, his eyes rolling back in his head, and, through the darkness, he felt an ancient rage wash over him, a rage that wasn't his. He heard gunshots, felt a rush of unbearable heat, and then he knew nothing.
-
"Elliot? Elliot, baby, can you hear me?"
"Richard, what is going on-"
"-when did you find him-?"
"-how long ago was the bombing-?"
"-Elliot, listen to me-"
Voices swirled around him. Familiar voices. He heard Tom, Ben, his brother/uncle, and Maggie.
"Katty." An old language, one that hadn't been spoken aloud in centuries.
"Did he say something?"
"Move!"
There were hands on his face, not Maggie's hands or Katty's either, big hands, ancient hands, turning his head one way and then the other.
"Elliot," said the low voice of his brother, "can you hear?"
"Katty," said Elliot, more insistently, in another old tongue. He couldn't quite muster the energy to open his eyes yet. He could almost see Richard nod.
"She's fine, she's here, on the island, her plane crashed-"
"Venice." Yet another.
"Elliot, look at me."
Very slowly and with stupendous effort, Elliot opened his eyes. His brother's face hovered over him, and if Elliot hadn't known him as well as he did, he'd never have known just how scared Richard was at this moment. He saw the tension leave the older man's shoulders.
"How long was I out?" groaned Elliot, reverting back to modern English, sitting up with a hand on his head. He was sitting on a couch. Richard handed him a glass of water, which he drank thirstily.
"Almost two weeks. We didn't even find you until two days after the bomb went off-"
Elliot's eyes rose to see Maggie's, white face, with her jaw clenched, staring at him.
"Maggie-"
She took a deep breath, and when she spoke, her voice was normal, if a little higher than normal. "Are you alright?"
He winced at the tenderness in his ribs. "I've been better."
Be stepped forward, fixing him in that piercing blue gaze. "What happened to the girl?"
"You know more than I do," said Elliot honestly, his voice hoarse, looking from Richard to Ben. "She should have died; we were right at the heart of the blast-"
Richard was shaking his head. "She's definitely not dead."
"Scarred?"
"Her back," said Ben with a slight jerk of his head. Richard was staring at Elliot intently.
"I met her yesterday," said Richard, his eyes unreadable. A grin spread over Elliot's face.
"What did you think?"
"She…. she's definitely odd. There's something you need to know," he added, under his breath, in a dialect that hadn't been spoken aloud by its native people for over a millennia. Elliot stared at him and Richard regarded the rest of the room.
"Can we have a minute?"
They all filed out, Maggie giving Elliot one last, searching look before the door shut behind her. Elliot immediately turned to Richard.
"What?"
Richard raised his eyebrows. "There was a little boy on the plane. A little boy named Elliot."
Elliot felt his heart drop out of his body as he thought of a baby he'd held for five seconds before he was rushed away; he though of the dark eyes and long hair of the boy's mother.
"Is he-"
Richard nodded silently, and Elliot's eyes widened as he sucked in air.
"And… Jenna?"
Richard said nothing and Elliot closed his eyes as his heart twisted.
"Who's taking care of him now?" he asked, his eyes still closed. He heard Richard chuckle, a dark, ironic sound. Elliot had heard that laugh before; it usually meant the end of a civilization was coming.
"Katty."
LOST
"Letting the Cables Sleep" by Bush
A/N: So I guess this is sorta the equivilent of 'The Other Forty-Eight Days', right? Lol. On the plus side, the next chapter's got some hot Sawyer action :). This chapter isn't particularly interesting, I know, but it's kinda important. Not as important as the next chapter, but it's not something you wanna skip over. Plus I had London on the mind, what with being there, and all, so this just kinda... came pouring out.
To answer some questions: Katty Sherman is a real person. Something I do when I'm coming up with a story but hit a block on a character is get onto sites like Facebook or Myspace and find names and sometimes faces to use. I had this story planned out, but I was kind of at a loss as to the character and how to develop her. So I got on facebook to find some cool names and one of the first ones I saw was 'Katty Sherman' and I thought, um, okay, that's a pretty cool name. And the girl was really pretty, to, in a really odd way, so I decided to base the character's looks off her as well. Took a few details from her page (she's an artist, sixteen, lives in the south, etc) and I had a character! Then a girl reviewed this story and her NAMED WAS KATTY SHERMAN ASD;SJAL;JSFADJ. I thought she was gonna be pissed but she was super excited and okay with it, and she even said that if I needed stuff for a backstory, I could basically use her past. And she's got a really interesting family and is all around an amusing and interesting person, so I figured, hey, dude, that's awesome. So that's the story!
Btw. Nestor Carbonell ships Richard/Kat(ty)e. "I wouldn't mind if Kat(ty)e ruined Richard's life."
LOLOL JUST WAIT HONEY.
Also, just so everyone knows, enjoy Katty/Saywer while it lasts. :(. They're both too stupid for it to carry on much longer. But I love Juliet, so I guess it's KIND of okay.
Love,
Sarah