—chapter two, or...

  ❛ words to live by - and names to die by. ❜  

THE FIRST THING ELODIE VERBECK THOUGHT WHEN SHE FIRST WOKE UP was very simply,

 'fuck'.

For a long moment, she just laid still and refused to open her eyes. She waited for something to happen, a rush of more oddities to pelt at her skin or overwhelm her mind again. Some weirdo alien godlike species to lift her up and dropkick her into some new spirit world, or threaten her life, or send her through space and time or...well, something. 

The worst thing was, she had no clue where the hell she was. She could not even remember half of what led up to getting there, only flashes of pain and words...Ellis had been talking, but it had been so hard to hear over the rush of blood and the pain swelling all over her failing body...it was just a jumble of sounds and blurs of faces, smiles and glittering eyes, someone coming but...

Wait.

Double fuck.

Her eyes flew open and Elodie sprang up, only to immediately regret the hasty move. Her entire side lit up in pain like it was stuffed with fireworks and she had just lit the match. It took all her energy to not cry out — and even cramming her fingers into her mouth, a hoarse whimper still escaped, making her throat feel like it was bleeding.

How long had she been asleep?

Guess she'd find that out on the go. There was no time to waste on how horrible she felt or how her skin felt like it was crawling with a thousand bugs. She had to figure out where the hell Ellis and her were...and when. 

Her half-lidded eyes scanned the room, jumping from light to portrait to the right of her bed. She froze, staring a man dressed all in white who stood hadn't looked her way. Elodie swallowed her shriek and stared bug-eyed, unsure who he was or if he was even there. Maybe she had imagined him up, too.

"H--h-" A large, hacking cough rattled her system. "Hello?"

The man didn't look up, just as he had not when she had first sat up. Instead, he simply continued rapidly writing on his clipboard, muttering under his breath as he did so. Elodie couldn't hear a word of whatever it was, but it didn't sound like anything good.

She swallowed. Her throat ached.

"Where am I...?"

No response.

"Where's my brother?"

The man said nothing. He just wrote, and wrote, and when he was done, turned away from her bed and marched right out of the door, muttering as he did. Elodie watched him leave until the door swung shut, and she was alone again.

"O...kay," she murmured, confused and more than a little concerned. It wasn't like with the Not-Grandmother, because he seemed to hear her just fine; he just had no interest in responding. The man in white didn't look at her once. Just kept scribbling at his papers and mouthing along to whatever he was putting down. Spells? Curse words? A stellar soup recipe? Who could say?

Elodie looked around once more. It was a bland room, dressed all in white like the man had been. It reminded her of a hospital room, and she would have thought it was if it wasn't for the ornate border of gold that decorated the tops of the walls, connecting to a pattern of panels on the ceiling. Maybe in the past hospitals spent their budget on fancy ceilings, but Elodie had a feeling that wasn't really the case. She had to be in some sort of home.

There had been another man. He had certainly seemed human. Such a smarmy smile couldn't be replicated. So where did he go?

And where's Ellis?

Her blood ran cold at the thought of him and Ellis. A flash of fear-prompted adrenaline had her struggling to her feet, swaying and clutching at her bandaged side. She wasn't wearing the clothes she had before. Instead, someone had dressed her in all white linen. Normally that would freak her out — and the thought of someone undressing her did make her nauseous — but she couldn't focus on that. Nor the fact that a small red stain was spreading across her torso.

Elodie's side killed, but she gritted her teeth and continued standing. If anything happened to Ellis because she was worried about a scratch...well, she wasn't sure what she'd resort to. Maybe burn the whole damn place down.

She was just about to stumble towards the door when suddenly it swung open. Elodie startled and stepped back, only to lose her balance to fall right to the floor in front of the surprise visitor.

"Oh, dear," cried the voice, deep and far above. "I'm sorry, I did not mean to startle you."

Elodie offered no answer; she only stared. The man above her was the same guy who took her and Ellis. A tall, smartly dressed man with a wide smile like (and she was ashamed to even think such a comparison) those old drawings of Santa. Only he didn't look half so jolly. He was wiry and cold, with salt-and-pepper hair perfectly draped across his long face. Every part of his suit was perfectly pressed, the lines of plaid folded to encapsulate his thin figure.

He almost looked familiar. If only she knew why.

"You should not have even been out of bed," the man hummed, with a peculiar lilt to his voice. He turned and called, drawing in the same man in white from before. "Put her back, make sure she's alright."

Elodie was too weary and confused to protest. She didn't wriggle out of the stranger's arms when he lifted her up. Instead, she allowed herself to be carried like a child back into her bed and prodded at like a test animal. The man in white — a doctor, probably — pressed his fingers into her side and fiddled with the strips of bandages until he looked satisfied. He patted her once, nodded and zoomed away.

"I..." she looked around, only to find the man in white was gone, and she was alone with the stranger from the car. "W...what's going on?"

"I'm sorry about all that. I wasn't sure when you were going to be up, but I suppose I should have set up a less alarming welcome, eh?"

Elodie blinked.

The man came a bit closer, drawing up so he was almost touching her bed. "The name's Richard. Richard Livingston."

He said his name like it should mean something to her. It didn't.

"Uh...pleasure," she mumbled, slipping her hand into his with great reluctance. He squeezed once before drawing away and wiping his hand off on a handkerchief he slipped from his pocket. Strange, she mused to herself, but maybe the 60s were different. "Thank you, I s'pose, for the—"

"—don't feel the need to say anything of the sort," he interrupted, waving his hand with an airy grace. His smile didn't waver once. Nor did he blink. Like some sort of lizard-android hybrid. Was he one? Was she actually in a sci-fi movie? "I'd not be the man my mother raised if I were to let a woman and her son die on these cursed streets."

Son. That had to be Ellis' doing. Either because Livingston had just assumed that, or he had created the guise for their own safety. Maybe both. Whatever the case, it was reassuring to know that Ellis was at least fine enough to come up with an explanation for their presence in an unknown time (that was not at all their own).

"So, uh, where is my br...boy?" she asked, weakly. "Is he okay?"

Livingston nodded. A strand of steel gray bounced upon his forehead. "Freddie has been quite good. Very worried, but after assuring him that you would be alright, we were able to talk quite a bit. I think we spent one afternoon sim—"

"—sorry, one afternoon? How...how long was I out?"

If he was bothered by her hasty interruption, it didn't show. "Only about four days, my dear. But you were in quite poor condition when you arrived. Really, it's a marvel you're up and going right now," he remarked, with a strange twinkle in his eye.

"Yeah. Yeah, it is...uh...weird."

"If I might say, finding a young woman with a bullet wound so severe as yours is hardly a normal happenstance of mine. And while I am a man who values privacy of my own, I have to ask just how on earth you sustained such wounds?"

Elodie stared at him, wide-eyed and empty-minded. She had nothing. No clues, no ideas, no ways to get out of it without sounding like a complete lunatic — or facing death all over again. If only Ellis was here, though she imagined even he wouldn't be able to explain their circumstances. She didn't know much about history, but a young woman in weird clothing and a massive bullet wound barely cauterized probably wasn't a common theme.

As if he had read his mind (which he hadn't, but he probably thought he did), Livingston chuckled. He sank down into the small chair by the bed and folded his hands in his lap. He was very elegant with all of his movements, like he was a king of some kind. He never seemed to miss a single beat. Impressive. 

"You see, I have my own theories, if you'd entertain them." His thin-lipped smile grew colder. "A young woman in men's clothes with a young, terrified son and a gunshot wound stumbling through Texas alone...suggests you were not where you were supposed to be."

She blanched. "Sir, I—"

"—I am not a man to judge," Livingston continued, either oblivious or uncaring to her panic. "And again, I am a child of my mother's, God rest her soul, and I might understand better than most, the troubles of a young wife. The hardships that men press so carelessly, into such soft, innocent skin."

Elodie chose to keep her lips shut on her opinion on that. She had the feeling that no matter what time they were stuck in, she'd met the same man about a dozen times before, and that she wasn't really going to enjoy his boasts of 'feminism'. Not with comments like 'innocent skin', at least. Honestly, if her life wasn't in his hands she would blast a hole through his forehead at his smarmy words. But she didn't even know if she would have the strength to lift her hand, much less set it on fire.

So, she simmered silently.

"I imagine that you had a difficult choice to make," Livingston drawled, and she finally heard just the hint of an accent — not Texan, something different. "And you made it for the sake of your son, and had paid the price with your own flesh. Would I be right?"

Slowly, Elodie nodded. He might not be too far off (if she understood his convoluted way of speaking), so maybe it wasn't really lying. "I...family has always been the most important to me. My b...my son's success, and happiness." Also not a lie.

The older man sighed. The somber sound didn't match his smile. "You know, my mother stayed with my father for twenty-two years before I could buy her out of that cursed marriage. She did it so I could have the life I deserved. And I owe it all to that woman. Everything I have, the world I have built, would not be possible without her strength and will. And I know we might not know each other well just yet, my dear, but I think that there are a lot of similarities between you and her."

"I...thanks. I guess." 

He dipped his head in response. "A statement I'm sure I will stand by. But, if I may...such a choice, to leave that man behind..."

"...he won't be following," Elodie muttered. "The, uh, he told me so himself. He never really wanted the kid, he only wanted that control and I...left with all the sh—care he could give to us. I wouldn't be worth his time to worry for."

She wanted to ramble on, explain some sort of rich backstory that he couldn't question, but Ellis must have said more than their relations to one another. And if their stories didn't match up, well...

"Where do you folks hail from, anyways?" Livingston asked. "Your son never said much to that, only that it wasn't here."

"Oh, um...North," she squeaked, voice rising with her uncertainty. "Small place, hardly what could be considered a town."

The man cocked a brow, "and you came here?"

"Ha — trust me, it wasn't planned. We left fast. Escaped with nothing but ourselves. We have family, but..." Elodie sighed, and did her best to really emphasis what plight she could to sell her story. "I just couldn't lose m'boy."

And to her surprise, the man did not get angry, or laugh in her face, or cast her out and report her to whatever acting police there was. Instead, he did as he had done the entire time they had been talking; smile, and nod, like she was telling him about the weather and not a talltale of her and her son running away.

"You're a brave woman, Miss Cruise."

Miss Cruise? Another one of Ellis' ideas? "Uh, thanks."

"Yes," was his solid response, factual as everything else he had said. "And again, I might not know you, but your brother certainly spoke greatly of you, and — I like to think, I'm quite good at picking the kind from the selfish."

He bared his teeth, and Elodie caught the glint of a golden tooth in the back.

"You should know, I have been in search of an employee to fill out my current staff."

Elodie felt her hands burn, and without thinking buried them in the blankets. Underneath they clasped and unclasped, nervous worms unsure of their next disaster.

"Call it a housekeeper. Someone who can oversee this house when I cannot. Because, well," he chuckled, and the laugh chased shivers down her spine. "it's a large house for a man like myself to take care of by myself."

She didn't speak.

"I'd be interested in hiring a woman like you," why did he insist on saying it like that? "to fill that position. Someone with morals, but also someone who doesn't have a...shall we say past to tie her back. Do you follow?"

Elodie nodded numbly.

"That woman, of course, would be handsomely compensated, with a place to live and a chance to experience a good life within these walls. Food, clothing, a good school for the boy," he waved his hand through the air, "free with the work. Honestly, I would imagine it to be good, for those down on their luck. A chance to start over and evade those who, you know, might have more questions than I."

And she really did not have to be a genius, to understand what he was alluding to. 

"And such an offer...well, you should know that I am a very influential man, in these parts." Once more his teeth were bared, angled and glinting in the white lights. "No one can avoid the truth, not even those with a good heart. And those who believe otherwise, could find themselves back in whatever small town up North they had ran from. Or wherever you fled."

Elodie squirmed against the stiff pillows. Suddenly everything was uncomfortable and all the fabric around her scratched at her skin like pins and needles. Her body burned, but without an outlet or will to let the fire breathe, everything just hurt more. 

This was bad. This was very, very fucking bad. Potential cult bad. Serial killer bad. Diego's psycho dad, bad. But there's no way out. Not safely.

"But such an offer...I'd be miffed if someone actually wanted to turn it down. Wouldn't you be?"

She gritted her teeth against the desire to spit in his face. "Are you offering, or demanding?"

And Livingston could not have looked scarier, just then, with his smile a slash against his thin face and the lights turning his skin a dull yellow tinge. If she had not grown up with monsters, Elodie might have actually shirked from his press; as it were, she allowed him to pat his knee, and even jutted out her chin to prove her courage.

Even if it really, really did not feel like she had much of that left.

"I think we can help each other," he hummed, taunting and cruel. "I have your best interests in mind, believe me."

Elodie had never been the silent type; she was brash, impatient and even after years of therapy, was quicker to anger than a flash of light. But in the face of such a cruel being, she knew snapping back would only get herself hurt. It clearly was not a time where she could bite without paying dearly for it; any semblance of an insult, and a man like him would probably get her abandoned on the side of the road. Or worse, considering what she had already told him.

And Ellis. She had to think about Ellis. He was the reason she was still alive and the sole reason she had stayed kicking for so long. Setting Richard Livingston's house ablaze might feel good in the moment, but it would only harm the boy in the long run, and she refused to be the cause of that.

And so, Elodie did what she had learned to do; she put her little brother first, and held her tongue. Ironically, it was her father's own words that rang through her head; 'you have always been a stubborn, selfish, child'. A quote so full of hate and spite, hating her for never bowing to his cruel and twisted games, and allowing him to break her into his weapon.

Inwardly, she grinned. If only he could see her.

"How long will it be until I am, uh, functioning again?" Her question was more than a request. It was a silent acceptance veiled in innocence, promising herself to him. Like a damn fool.

Livingston's eyes danced with poorly hidden glee. "I would imagine in a week, you'll be walking around normally. My doctors' were surprised to see how fast you healed — I imagine that's a good sign of health."

Her eyes dipped down to the scratchy comforter surrounding her. "And will such a time work for this...proposal?"

"There's much to learn about this house, m'dear," he smiled, "and I am sure by the end of the week, you could know more about it than me."

That was the only answer she needed.

"Your son has been waiting to see you, and I'm sure you're eager to see him, too. Would you like him to come in?"

Elodie just nodded.

"He's quite the boy genius," Livingston remarked, so casually that it had to mean more. "I had a clock sitting on a table for several years without working. I had become so wrapped up in work I forgot to get it fix, but your son solved my problem in maybe ten minutes time. Quite casually, too, like he just had looked for something to fiddle with." He laughed, filling Elodie's throat with bile. "Were you always aware of how special he was?"

Flashbacks echoed in her head as he stared at her, dropping and scattering snarl after growl after coo of that same word. Special. She had always heard that word growing up, but it wasn't good; it was a curse, a plague, something that followed her into adulthood and led her down paths of great tragedy. Her father had declared her his special child and it had left her with nothing.

She refused to allow her little brother down that same warpath.

She raised her chin a little more and folded her arms across her chest. Her nails dug into the skin of her arms. "The boy is bright, yes, but I wouldn't consider him any genius." A blatant lie and it hurt to weave. But she would do it for him. "He's just fidgety."

Livingston considered this a moment. "Intriguing," he said, running a hand over his hair. Not a lock moved, save for the one so perfectly coiled across his forehead. "But you know, I've always believed than there is a prodigy to seek in every generation."

"I really wouldn't think that's him."

His gaze only grew shrewder. "I'll call your son in now, and allow yourself some time. Don't over-exert yourself, remember; I'd hate to see you fail now."

And with that cruel sentiment, he was gone.

Elodie collapsed back against her pillows and let out a dry sob. Her fingers fell from her arms to the sheets below, and she noticed blearily the marks they had seared into her skin; glowing tracks remained after her fingernails had raked across, disguising the marks underneath. It vaguely hurt, but she couldn't even feel it amidst the mental crisis raging in her head.

They were screwed. They were alone in a time she did not even know, stuck in a lie that had just cost her her freedom, and who the hell knew what else. For all the things she did not know about him, Livingston seemed obviously sketchy, and not in a charming manner. The sort that would leave her bleeding in a ditch and him taking Ellis for himself.

And throughout it all, Ellis still remained, a problem she didn't know how to fix. That strange girl on the bike had told her that he had something in store for him, but was Livingston what she meant? Them getting trapped in a hellscape where she couldn't leave without her new 'boss' permission? Elodie was glad to be alive, she'd gladly take it over leaving Ellis to it all alone, but...

Her chest heaved again in a tearless sob, then another. I'm not meant for this. She wanted to be good, and strong for her brother, the role model she never had but dammit, was it fair for the universe to take everything from her? Everything?! Hell's sake, she didn't even have any hobbies! Nothing of her own, just pain and shit upon shit, upon—

—the door swung open, and Elodie immediately dropped her arms. She sniffled once before forcing a smile on her face, grinning as Ellis swung into the room.

He looked different, at least from when she had seen him last — he was all cleaned up, and dressed in what she could only assume was accurate to whatever decade they had landed in. His button-up was a soft, light green, paired with the same high-waisted pants that so many had worn when they first landed. His hair was styled, too, pulled back with gel and no longer hiding his bright eyes. But at least his smile was the same; at least Elodie had that small comfort.

"Elodie!"

"Ellie," she cried, her voice cracking with the call. "C'mere, c'mere—"

He practically fell into her arms. The bed groaned and creaked as Ellis crawled up it to her, falling against her with a loud sigh of relief. She held him carefully to ensure he didn't get burned by her hands, but close enough so she could feel the quick pit-pat of his heart.

"I'm so glad you're okay," he murmured, muffling in her shoulder. "I — I thought that —"

"Don't worry," Elodie soothed. She knew exactly what he was going to say, and had no interest in even hearing it, knowing it would only stress her mind out more. "I'm okay. We're okay, and...everything's gonna be just fine."

Ellis adjusted himself so he could stare at her, eyes jumping around her face like he was trying to catch her in her a lie. "Are you really going to be okay?"

"According to the Doctor, yeah. It'll be about a week 'fore I'm up again, but I'll be just fine."

He smiled, moisture welling in his large, dark eyes. "I'm so glad."

"Me too." She brush at his cheeks, wiping at a falling tear. "But, Ellis, you have to explain to me what's going on. Where are we? What happened?"

The younger boy bit at his lip. "It's very complicated."

"I'm afraid everything's complicated in this line of business, but I'll still take some answers. And a name, 'cause I guess I'm no longer Elodie here, yeah?"

Ellis shook his head solemnly. "I...I had to try and lie. I didn't want to, but Mr. Livingston seemed like he could know too much, and I couldn't—"

"—hey, hey, it's okay. Just...fill me in, we'll work it out."

And so, he told her.

It was quite complicated, which was a little surprising considering it had been mere days — but also not, considering...well, everything else. After Elodie had passed out, Diego's not-little-little brother, Five, had created a plan to send them back in time enough to solve the problem. It was clear Ellis glossed over a lot of details with that; his eyes misted over and all Elodie got were mumbles of vague promises (mostly from Diego, though Klaus had claimed godparent rights over him, oddly enough) and then somehow they were whirling off to whatever was before.

Only, of course, they went back too far. Ellis did not explain much of that either, but that wasn't really his fault. Neither of them were experts on superpowers and certainly not of those they only vaguely knew. So when they landed alone in an alleyway, Ellis had freaked out. Understandably so, Elodie had assured him.

He had sat beside her for hours, he explained, trying to make sure that she was still breathing and looking for a way out. Her heart ached, hearing that. While she was chasing the afterlife shadow-version of Grandmother, her poor, helpless little brother had been stuck alone in a new world, trying to keep his sister alive. The trauma of that alone, she couldn't begin to console him for — and she had a feeling no matter how she tried, it wasn't going to fix a thing about that.

Though, there was some good. Ellis had found out the time from a newspaper that had floated by with the date: June 14th, 1960.

"So we're...lost like six decades before the apocalypse?!"

Ellis nodded slowly. "In Dallas, Texas. And from what I remember, it's not great to be here — I mean, things are a little better, but there's not much more than scraps for...well, anyone who's not a straight, white man."

Elodie's lips twisted at that, but she waited to tell her brother what Richard Livingston had told her. "Okay. So after I woke up, we started running, and...?"

"Well, there was this lady who appeared out of — outta nowhere. Literally!" The boy shook the bed with his weight, only to apologise a second later when his sister winced. "Sorry. But — yeah, she was tall, taller than even Dad, and she had these great big silver eyes that I could somehow see? I was miles and miles away but I could see almost everything, like I was looking through a magnifying glass. It was so strange!"

She half-smiled at that. "Fascinating."

"But, I mean, that's not the important thing," he rambled, cheeks reddening a little. "I thought she was somehow one of the siblings, like maybe they landed somewhere else, but I didn't really recognise her. And then she looked really mad and started to run, and...well, that didn't seem good."

"How did we get away?"

"Well," Ellis sighed, picking at his bottom lip, "that was the weird thing. I don't know if she was there."

Elodie cocked a brow. "Like, you think you were seeing things?"

"No! Yes. I-I don't know. I mean, I don't think so, but no one else reacted to the great big lady charging through a Texan street! And she probably could have killed us with some sort of alien witchcraft, but she just ran, and then stopped randomly like she had to catch her breath, but I don't even know if aliens have to catch their breaths—"

"—she was an alien?!"

"Not sure," the boy admitted again, cheeks flushing even deeper. "She seemed out of this world to me, but...well, to be honest I don't know what happened to her. One moment she was there, the next the guy, Mr. Livingston, was pulling up and I looked back and she was gone."

Elodie heaved a great gust of breath and flopped back to her pillows. She certainly did not remember that part of the chaos. And though she was out of it and completely falling to bits, wouldn't she remember a strange alien woman with silver eyes charging her brother? That'd be a keeper, wouldn't it?

"Crap," she mumbled, running a hand through her thick hair. She frowned at how gross the frizz felt; how long had it been since she had showered?! "That...that is a mess."

"But we escaped, and the man — Mr. Livingston, he somehow could do it all. He brought us both into his huge house, and took you up to his hospital suite, where like, this guy was already there waiting? I didn't watch most of the surgery, but the guy was good, too. He did it so efficiently! Mr. Livingston said that was a natural in the medical field...for some reason." Ellis shook his head. "But yeah, he somehow just knew how to fix this. How to fix you. Can you believe it?!"

Unfortunately, Elodie could. Not that she'd tell him that. He couldn't know yet; not when she herself wasn't sure of the threat.

She patted his hand. "Good thinking with the mother/son cover. I mean, I look a bit young to have a nearly thirteen-year-old, but..."

"Having kids young was more common, 'round these times," Ellis grinned, "and besides, you weren't that young. You'd'a had been like sixteen. Or..."

Elodie groaned, protesting time and the problem with trying to calculate age in time travel, and the boy just laughed. And for a moment, it could have been like it was back home.

But like all good ones do, the moment died.

"Are you...are you scared, Lola?"

Elodie shivered, ducking her head so he couldn't see her face. "I don't know, buddy. Are you?"

"A...a little."

"That's okay. I mean, we did travel through time, so..." she trailed off when it was obvious he wasn't in the mood for humour. "I am a little scared, too."

"Do you think we'll get back and get out of this okay?"

If Elodie was honest, she would laugh, wipe a tear from her eye and then yell a hearty 'I don't know!' to the universe, flipping them off as hard as she could. But she had the feeling that Ellis wasn't looking for sarcasm, or even her real answer. He was looking for comfort.

She reached out to clasp his hand, willing her skin to cool so as not to burn. "What I do know, is that we got extremely lucky, having each other. And wherever Diego and his siblings are, they're probably going to show up very, very soon. I mean — if I know anything about that Five guy, is that he always manages to finish what he sets his mind to. You think he'd leave us here?"

Ellis gave a watery half-smile. "I don't think Diego would let him give up on you."

"Ha, you have a point - I bet right now, wherever they are, Diego's stuck in a pissin' match with the little dude right now, trying to get things right again. Right?"

"Yeah. Right."

"So," she sang, and she did her best to really sell the optimism, "I have no doubts that one day, we're going to laugh about this, and soon. We're going to be okay."

Elodie wished she could believe that for herself. But, for now...all that mattered was Ellis. Just like she had told the girl on the bike, and just like it had always been. She'd give anything to keep him safe and if that meant playing housewife for some creepy sonofabitch for a while until she found the Hargreeves' again... it'd be a small price to pay. One she'd pay happily.

"So," she continued, "what can you tell me about 'Miss Lucille Cruise'?"

So, a little timeline on Ellis, 'cause I know that it's sort of confusing and really I only worked it out in this sequel. In the original book, Ellis would have been twelve/thirteen around this time, working out his birthday in 2007. But that wouldn't make sense because Elodie would have been 18, and she wouldn't have had that attachment period raising Ellis. So, here's the full bio (sort of) on this lil' boy. Bear with me. :)

Ellis was born July 21st, 2005, when Elodie was sixteen. Events will be explained later on but essentially, Elodie raised this boy from birth as really, his mother. His mom was not in the picture. So Elodie raised him up to the age of nineteen (he was three), when her father was first, uh...shall we say caught, for now (again, explained later). She realised that while her father had connections, he would continue to get into trouble and also had no real interest in providing for Ellis, who he didn't see as worth his time due to him not being 'special' like Elodie. This is when she leaves them and moves to the city, where she eventually works at Wallow's, meets Diego, yada yada.

Ellis is quite a smart kid. He's not supernaturally so, but he comes to knowledge and facts in an easy fashion. Call him a boy genius. Elodie noticed this early on and pushed for his academic success. Aka, pooling all her money and giving most of it for his expensive schools, which'll be touched on later. They also still have a quite maternal/son relationship, and they have a close knit relationship, creating more of a dependence on her at thirteen/fourteen and so on than most kids would have.

Anyways, in the first part of Chaos Theory, he's seven to nine. In the second half, he's fourteen, which is how old he is now. When we reach 1963, of course, he'll be seventeen.

Thank you for reading, let me know what you thought. :)