Disclaimer: I do not own any of the characters in this fanfiction except the ones clearly my own (i.e Angel, not to be confused with Buffy the Vampire Slayer; Angel is just a name I like) but all characters are property of Crystal Dynamics. Obviously, this is a fanfiction and written for your entertainment. :) I hope you enjoy reading it.

Summary: It has been two months after escaping the island of Yamatai and Lara is still struggling with the aftermath. Until she meets a young man at a club by the name of "Angel", who invokes an unpleasant memory of Alex Weiss and the last time she saw him, reminding her of how she was the sole reason for his death. Who is Angel and why does he make her feel so afraid, yet strangely secure...?

Aftermath

-Chapter 1-

"Sometimes, you've got to make sacrifices, Lara..."

"I KNOW about SACRIFICES."

"No, you know about loss. Sacrifice is a chose you make, loss is a choice made for you."

Lara Croft closed her eyes as Conrad Roth's familiar Yorkshire accent echoed inside her head; the painful reminder causing pain to throb at the base of her chestplate. She clutched it with one hand, eager to keep herself from falling apart; trying.

Keep breathing. Oh, keep breathing, Lara.

She couldn't believe this. Only two months had passed since escaping Yamatai, and here she was, enduring what she assumed to be post-traumatic stress. At least, that's what her doctors would say. Over and over and over…like damn broken records.

She didn't want to confront that possibility, though. There was absolutely no way in hell that she was reacting negatively in dealing with the aftermath of surviving Yamatai. Because that was exactly it; she had survived. She was done with the nightmare of Himiko and the Solarii and the Stormguard and Matthias...wasn't she?

"Drop your weapons! Or we kill your friend!"

"Don't fuckin' do it!"

As if to spite her efforts in trying to forget, Grim's screams ripped through her head, and she hastily squeezed her eyes tight, willing away the unwanted truth. That ugly piece of knowledge that threatened to force itself upon her every chance it got. The big, horrible voice reminding her that it was her fault that they had died.

Grim...

Alex...

…Roth.

All because of you, she scolded herself.

"No no no no...," she muttered, rocking back and forth, arms wrapped around her in hopes that these memories wouldn't rip her to tiny pieces until she was nothing more. She moaned as yet another memory arose, forcing her to watch. She had become a slave to her own mind.

"I'm not going to make it out of here, Lara...How many guys like me get to be the hero?"

A painful cry ripped from her throat and she turned her head to bite down on her shirt. Stop thinking of all this. What if Sam were to come by? She'd try to send you off to another psychiatric hospital.

"Lara?"

Dammit. She quickly swiped away the tears on her face and stood, smoothing her sweaty palms along her jeans, desperate to recollect herself as best she could. With a shaky breath, she moved down the hallway and opened the door, revealing her best friend's concerned face. It seemed to be the only expression she saw on anyone's face these days. Reyes, then Jonah. And now Sam, of all people. She was sick and tired of their pity, but she had to endure it.

"Sam? What's going on?" she asked, crossing her arms and leaning against the doorjamb, attempting to seem cavalier.

The other girl hesitated a moment, as if shocked at Lara's efforts, before saying, "Um, a few of the girls from downstairs were thinking of heading to a club later and they invited me...said I could invite whomever. I want you to come. You game?"

No, no I wouldn't be "game". Lara bit down on her lip and started to shake her head, intent on saying just that but Sam jumped in first.

"I know you're having a hard time dealing with the Yamatai aftermath."

"Really?" Lara asked with mock shock. "Then you must already know my answer."

"Yes, I knew you'd try to back out, but Lara; that's what you've been doing for almost two months now. Staying inside, sulking, indulging in all the horrors of your memories; it's not healthy."

Lara sighed and rested her head against the doorjamb, dropping the fake air of relaxation. "Sam, I don't know. I've been so paranoid lately. I don't think I'm ready to hang around crowds. I can still lash out at anyone that might provoke some unwanted memories of the Solarii or...Matthias."

Sam nodded but stepped forward, gripping her hand tightly. "I know it's hard, L. But don't forget...you're not the only one reliving the past every single day. You're not the only one being forced to look at horrifying images each time you wake up from a restless sleep. So, yes, I understand your pain - more than you know."

"Sam...," Lara started but got interrupted again.

"Don't 'Sam' me. You're coming tonight; I think it would be really good," Sam released Lara's hands and glanced down at her Rolex. "Now, the girls want to leave at seven, which is an hour from now - so you can clean yourself up and be good by then. Right?" Lara didn't say anything, just looked off into the distance and slowly nodded her head. What would be the point in arguing? Whenever Sam Nishimura got something into her head, it was nigh impossible to get it back out again.

"Good, this'll be really great for you, I promise. Seeya then, babe." With a swift hug and peck on the cheek, the other girl turned on her heel and disappeared down the hall, abandoning Lara in the doorway, glazed look in her eyes.

"Good job, Croft. Your communication skills are astounding today," she scolded herself. But with a sigh, she wiped her cheeks again and shut the door firmly, sliding home the bolt in the lock.

Checking her watch, she strode over to the tiny kitchen and plucked up her iPhone, unwinding the earbuds and absentmindedly sticking them in her ears. Perhaps listening to her favorite music would wash away the unwanted memories that seemed to love taunting her lately.

"Siri, play Florence and the Machine."

Looking up from underneath

Fractured moonlight on the sea

Lara stepped into her room and hastily plucked up a fuzzy blue towel, then proceeded to her bathroom where she quickly jammed hr phone into it's player, and stepped into the shower, trying to ignore the flashes of horrible memories starting once again in her head, and focused on the lyrics of the song and beat of hot water pounding her backside. It was difficult, because the memories always seemed to flicker in her mind like a moving picture show. It made reliving the past so much harder than it already was.

Reflections still look the same to me

As before I went under

After finishing up, Lara picked out an ordinary outfit of standard gray cargos and a navy blue sweater; and then just sat at her desk, allowing her thoughts to keep on wandering, despite her regretting where they usually led. Why not, though? She had nothing better to do and feeling the pain of Yamatai was the only reminder that it all hadn't been a dream. It kept her course, there was always the obvious choice to read a good book or one of her father's many journals - but ever since Yamatai, the very idea of jumping back into archaeology made her sick to her stomach.

And it's peaceful in the deep

Cathedral where you cannot breathe

As she closed her eyes again, she was surprised to see the face of Alex Weiss, the last time she saw it, a look of pure desperation in his clear green eyes.

"Finally, I impressed you."

"Let's get you out of here."

She shook her head and pressed both hands to the sides of her face, unable to bear the pain of missing the sweet, nerdy young man that had held nothing but admiration for her. Why couldn't she just accept that he was gone, and never coming back?

Because it's your fault he's dead, that's why, she cruelly reminded herself, fighting back tears. He loved you and you were too absorbed in your own silly life to notice. And now he's dead.

No need to pray, no need to speak

Now I am under all

"Stop it," she groaned, disappointed in herself for going so far. "It's not your fault. Stop beating yourself up." Maybe Sam was right. This little outing was probably a good thing for her. After all, it was a chance to get out, see new people and surround herself in a loud environment, which would hopefully distract her thoughts from drifting to the very thing she desperately wanted to forget,

With a deep sigh, she wiped both eyes once, stood up and grabbed her bag. She trudged over to the hallway mirror, looked at her reflection and studied her appearance. She looked pale; her normally rosy complexion heightened by light freckles was now ashen and her normally rich brown hair looked limp and consisted mainly of split-ends. Dark circles ringed beneath her eyes like charcoal, immediately giving away her lack of sleep and the corners of her mouth pulled down in a permanent frown.

"Lara Croft, you are one heaping mess, you know that?" she told her reflection, running a shaking hand through her hair and swiftly pulled it into a ponytail, allowing a few strands to fall out around her face just as she liked it. She pinched the apples of her cheeks and dabbed on some smoky eyeshadow from her bag.

"There, that doesn't look quite so demure," she admitted, scrutinizing herself once more. "At least it'll have to do."

Moments later, the doorbell sounded and she met Sam and the others out in the hall, faking a smile before following them out into the midnight air.

"Come on, Lara! Dance with me!" Sam's voice seemed to echo like a dream as she shimmied over and gripped Lara's hands, yanking her in the direction of the dance floor. Her skin glowed with sweat, and her dark brown eyes bright; clearly the affects of the alcohol still very much in her system. Typical Sam; always one for a good time. Ever the partier, she was.

Lara groaned and planted her feet firmly on the ground. She had agreed to accompany them to the club, but she drew the line when it came to bouncing around on the bloody thing they called a "dance floor". It was hideous with it's flashing neon tiles, not even pulsing to the beat of the damn music - which, by the way, was none other than Jennifer Lopez's Dance Again.

"No no, I am not dancing, Sam. I am going to sit right here and enjoy my drink." Lara forced a teasing smirk and gestured at her beverage, eager to prove how serious she was at not dancing.

"Ugh, my god, Croft. You're SUCH a wet freakin' blanket!" Sam tried once again in vain to tug on Lara's arm, but she wouldn't budge. Thank god she had acquired all that new muscle back on Yamatai, else Sam might've had a chance in extracting her from her chair.

With a defeated sigh, Sam released her hand and marched off into the sea of people. Lara chuckled lightly and took a small sip of her drink, swallowing thoughtfully as her eyes drifted out over the people's heads, allowing her mind to wander. It was less dangerous now that the pumping music distracted her enough to not be negatively affected by the horror that was now her mind. However, she still saw all the faces of the loved ones that had died flickering like blacklights in her peripherals, and it still made her heart skip several beats.

Especially since the first face that floated out in front of her was none other than Roth. Again.

"I'm sorry, Lara. I'm sorry. You can do this...you're a Croft."

She took another deep swallow of beer and slammed down the glass, wincing as it unexpectedly shattered on the table.

"Damn it-" she cursed and hastily tried to mop up the mess with the sleeve of her sweater, until she realized too late how it would make her reek. She groaned in disbelief and stopped mopping, glancing up to see if she could spot an available bartender. One young man with a mop of unkept black hair stood out behind the counter, seemingly unaware of the people in the club. He seemed to be the only one not tending to bumbling drunk clumsily ordering another beer.

"Brilliant," she breathed, as she swiftly beat a path to the man, tugging on the hem of her sweater and smoothing down her ponytail.

"Um, excuse me? Might I borrow a few napkins?"

The man, not even bothering to look at her, shoved over a napkin dispenser. He didn't even utter a word. Lara thought that quite rude. Back when she had worked at the Nine Bells, she had been constantly reminded of the importance of being nice to customers.

This guy, for lack of a better term, sucked balls at his job.

"Excuse me?" came his annoyed retort, now suddenly looking up and glaring at her with sharp blue eyes.

Oh shit, she thought as the realization hit her like a cold splash of water. Had she just said that out loud? Ugh, this was why she hardly ever drank alcohol. It had a tendency to make her speak her innermost thoughts.

"Oh, I'm...nothing. I'll just...take these." She clumsily grabbed at the napkin dispenser and tried to make a quick getaway when the man suddenly stood up, circling the counter to where she still stood.

"You're a bit open-minded, aren't you?" came his sharp tone, causing Lara to stumble back a little, taken by surprise. But it was shortlived because she quickly shook herself of the shock and faced him, putting down the napkin dispenser.

"Not all the time, only when I notice when someone is being rather rude."

"And how was I being rude?"

"By acting like the world's shittiest bartender."

"You asked for napkins, did you not?"

She paused, then nodded very slowly. "Yes, I did, but-"

"And I gave you the dispenser, no?"

She huffed and crossed her arms. "You did, but no eye contact and no word came with it."

He chuckled bitterly. "I never realized giving one napkins had to come with conversation. I guess I didn't get the memo."

She rolled her eyes and grabbed the dispenser again. "Forget it. You're not worth my time, anyway." She turned on her heel and moved back to the table, still feeling irritated over the young man's rudeness. She knew though, that she had been a tad harsh. Who was she to judge someone she didn't know? For all she knew, he could've had other things on his mind, and she, like always, just refused to see those signs.

As she started to clean up the mess she made, she suddenly felt a presence beside her and hastily looked up, heart flying into her throat when she saw who it was. She quickly schooled her features into a disappointed frown.

"Oh, it's you again," she spat. "I'm sorry, was were my last words to subtle for you? Did you think I meant 'I'd love to keep chatting'?" But much to her surprise, he smiled at her and stuck out his hand. "Actually, I'm here to apologize for being so rude. I'm Angel."

Lara rolled her eyes and turned her back on him, continuing to mop up her self-inflicted beer-mess. He's not here, not here...a cute male specimen is not talking to you; especially not after being such an obvious bitch to him. She scrubbed hard at the table.

"Now who's being rude, Miss No-Name?"

"Oh, for god's sake," Lara slammed down her damp napkin and turned to face him again, not bothering to fake a smile. "It's Lara, actually. Lara Croft." She flashed a quick smirk and turned her back on him to pick up the damp paper towels still lying on the table.

"Lara Croft. L.C. Nice. Almost makes one forget how unpleasant you are."

She froze as the sudden memory slammed into her like a tidal wave.

"We got everything crossed for you down here, L.C."

She suddenly dropped the napkins and collapsed against the table, the only thing keeping her from sliding and falling to the ground being a hand suddenly gripping her waist.

Angel. His name's Angel.

"Whoa, careful there."

Say thank you. "Thanks" she managed to slur out, aware that her vision had gone completely fuzzy. All she could focus on was the jarring memory still radiating at the center of her mind; like some cruel joke meant to antagonize her.

Meant to remind her that Alex was dead.

Because of her.

"No," she moaned, as an overwhelming wave of emotion hit her again and she felt her knees give out then, unable to hold her own weight.

Angel managed to keep her upright and swung her effortlessly into his arms, carrying her out of the club. Lara barely registered any of it, except that she did feel slightly better when the crisp night air bit her face, thus shaking the horrid images out of her mind.

As soon as Angel set her on her feet, she closed her eyes and took a deep breath.

"Feeling better?"

She hesitated before answering, "Yes. Thank you." As she started to smooth herself out, and collect her bearings, the young man broke the heavy silence that had managed to set in.

"You, um, you need help getting home? I could drive you..."

Lara then looked up at him, taking the time to really study his features. He was handsome; not normally her type but definitely had a devil-may-care look about him with his messy black hair, hints at five-o-clock shadow and sleepy look in his glacier blue eyes. He was what Sam would call "supersexy". He wasn't enormously buffed, but he definitely had definition. And she liked the name; it definitely suited him.

"Um, hello, earth to Lara?"

Oh, shit, you're staring. She quickly turned her face away so it seemed like she wasn't being rude, and tried to remember what he had asked her. But she was coming up blank.

"Um, I'm sorry. Can you repeat that?" she blushed. "Alcohol makes me fuzzy."

He chuckled. "I asked if you need a ride."

"Oh! Yes, that would be love-perfect. Yes. Perfect. That would be perfect. A ride would be...perfect." She cringed and clamped her mouth tightly shut, in hopes that would stop this meaningless rambling that seemed to have come out of nowhere.

"Great," replied Angel. "Stay here and I'll be right back."

As he left her alone on the abandoned sidewalk, she suddenly realized how quiet it was in comparison to the noisy club. She didn't like it; because the silence tended to endure the worst of her PTSD and like always, she tried to avoid it all costs.

"Don't think about it, Lara. Don't think about it," she comforted herself, drawing in a deep breath of cool air. "You're gonna be fine."

That's what you think, L.C.