A/N: Hello all! First things first: this is my first LXG fic, so be patient with me. I have written and posted in two other genres, so I'm not a complete novice at this.
Disclaimer: If you recognize it, then I don't own it. If it's something that you've never seen before, then odds are, it's mine. If you want to use any of my OC's, please ask first.
Ummm…I would like to send a special thanks to my beta-reader, Clez. I highly recommend her fics, so, if you haven't already, go check them out. After you read and review mine.
Now, on with the show!
Bloodlines
Chapter 1: New Beginnings
Twelve-year old Abigail Quatermain stood next to a crude grave in the middle of an old graveyard. Bits of moisture still clung to the chunks of fresh dirt baking under the hot African sun. A cross stood at the head of the grave, bearing nothing more than a name: 'Quatermain'. Abigail knelt down next to the grave and gently planted a white flower under the cross. Unshed tears welled up in her eyes, and one escaped its glittering prison. She quickly wiped it away as she stood. Lightly kissing her fingertips, she brushed them on the cross in a final farewell.
"So long, Harry," she whispered, and turned to go back to the Britannia Club. A carriage waited out front, and the driver placed two suitcases in the back. A stern-looking man stood on the steps over-seeing the process. As Abigail approached he turned to her, as though silently beckoning her to hurry up.
Abigail ignored his unspoken request, and dragged her feet slowly, trying to make the walk last as long as possible. Finally, she reached the bottom step and looked up at her father.
"All ready?" he asked gruffly. Abigail cast a look over her shoulder to the gravesite behind her, then looked back at her father.
"Do I have to go?" she asked, desperation flooding her voice. She knew what his answer would be, but she still couldn't leave without giving it one more try.
Allan Quatermain sighed heavily. "Now Abby, we've been over this. Africa is no place for a young lady. Elizabeth and Jonathan are expecting you. Now come on, we have a boat to catch."
Abigail took one last look around the African plain, and then drank in a long view of the only home she had ever known. With a sigh, she reluctantly turned and stepped into the carriage with the assistance of the driver. Her father stepped in beside her and the driver hopped into his seat. As the carriage moved forward with a jerk, Abigail leaned her head up against the side and stared at vast grasslands stretching out to the foot of the mountains. She closed her eyes against the grit of the dirt that was flying into her face…
Eighteen-year old Abigail opened her eyes suddenly, her dream fresh in her mind. The vivid memory of her last day with her father burned with a bitter sweetness that was only intensified by her dream. Abigail sat in her chair staring into the bright flames in the fireplace for a moment before she leaned over and picked a piece of paper off of the floor. Her father's handwriting starred back at her and she glanced over the words that were already seared into her memory.
I've been called on a mission for the government. I'll be coming to England for the details, but I don't know how long I'll be there. Maybe when it's over I'll come by for a visit.
Abigail rubbed her eyes and sighed, placing the letter on the end table next to her. That had been over a month ago. Behind her the door to the sitting room opened and a tall, thin man in his mid-fifties entered quietly.
"Adrian," Abigail said without looking behind her. The older man smiled.
"I've always hated when you do that," he answered. Abigail stood and turned to face him, a smile playing on her lips as well. His response was part of an old joke that had been going on between them for years.
"It's not as though I can help it," she responded. Then she took on a more serious note. "Tell me you have good news."
Adrian Turner looked away from his charge, exhaling heavily. Then he straightened, his stance reminiscent of something military, and began to report his findings.
"I have been unable to locate Nemo or the Nautilus. They have been changing ports frequently and seemingly at random. We have not been able to track them." Abigail sighed heavily and looked away, turning to face the fireplace.
"However," Adrian started, causing Abigail to turn back in a rush. "Agent Sawyer has returned to America. He is currently in Washington awaiting his next mission."
Abigail raised her eyebrows and cocked a grin. "America?"
Adrian returned her smile with one of his own. "So it would seem."
Abigail grabbed the half-glass of sherry that had been sitting on the end table and finished it off in one gulp. She played with the empty glass in her hands and turned back to her mentor.
"I've always wanted to go to America."