A/N: Hello there and welcome to my new fanfic! If you are here because you have read my previous (and current) fanfic - Mass Effect: Pendulum - then thank you for supporting me :) If however you are new then please check out the aforementioned story, I like to think it's worth a read! Unlike my other story which is updated every Monday (usually!), this one is only going to be updated as and when, so please stay tuned. Well, enough ranting. I hope you enjoy and as usual please feel free to review or if you have any questions then you're welcome to send me a message and I'll answer it as best I can.

Disclaimer: I do not own the Tomb Raider universe or any of it's characters, with the exception of Tom Mallister, he is my creation.

Prologue

The constant, rhythmic sounds of waves clawing at the hull of the ship had become as familiar to Tom Mallister as breathing. Overhead thick, grey clouds cast a brooding shadow upon the restless ocean. On the horizon, bursts of lightening streaked through the sky, illuminating the evidence of their isolation. A fast, swirling wind whistled loudly through the air, turning the ever-present army of rain drops into sharp daggers, stabbing at the uncovered faces of the men and women aboard the Endurance.

"A fine night for a walk, wouldn't you say Tom?" The captain of the Endurance, Conrad Roth, was making his evening rounds on deck, braving the force of the gale and the battering of the swift rain.

As an ex Royal Marine, Roth was a stickler for routine. He had a habit of checking every inch of the ship before retiring to his quarters for the evening, often accompanied by half a bottle of cheap scotch and an illegally smuggled Cuban cigar.

Crouching, Tom tightly held the sodden hood of his sunflower yellow raincoat as he finished checking whether the rusted anchor was secure. Satisfied that the garish lump of shaped iron wasn't shifting an inch, he stood to face the captain before he responded, face red from the cold.

"I've never exactly been one for the cold, sir!" Tom shouted above the torrent of the wind.

Despite the piercing cold and the continuous bombardment of rain, Roth grinned.

"That'd be your damn Southerner blood!" joked the burly Northman, "If it weren't for your father, I might be tempted to throw you overboard!"

Tom laughed as he swept a few stray strands of pale blond hair across his narrow forehead and out from his deep, green eyes.

"If it wasn't for my father, I might be tempted to throw myself overboard!" In front of him Roth barked with laughter.

"That's the spirit lad!" In the distance the sharp crack of lightening was audible. Roth put his hand on the young man's shoulder. "When you're done here, you'd better get some rest!" he suggested. Tom nodded in agreement as Roth headed inside and out of the driving rain.

Small chips of white paint scratched away at Tom's hands as he used the ships cold railing to guide him down the port side of the ship and towards the stern. He lost his footing several times as the deck of the ship had been glazed with a layer of water from the constant crashing of the waves.

Below decks he imagined the crew in their cabins, a hot drink in their hands and warm food in their stomachs. Tom guessed that Sam would be playing around with her camera, perhaps editing some footage that had been shot earlier that day or making a video diary. By now Roth would be in his quarters sipping a glass of highland scotch or maybe chatting to Lara as she studied the countless maps and historical documents that were being consulted on the voyage. Ever since Dr Whitman, the original leader of the expedition, had disagreed with her about the direction the ship should be sailing, Lara had emerged as the person now calling most of the shots, something that sat well with everybody except Whitman. Tom couldn't imagine how a fool like him had scrambled his way into becoming a 'leading figure' in the archaeological community.

At the stern of the ship, Tom could make out Jonah's figure struggling with fastening a crate onto the deck. Despite the weather, Jonah stubbornly wore his red rugby vest, shorts and flip-flops, something that amused everyone on the crew to no end.

"Need a hand, Jonah?" Tom shouted above the thrashing of the ocean. The big Samoan beckoned the young man over and together they began securing the crates related to the expedition.

"You shouldn't be about in this kind of weather, little Englishman," he scolded. Jonah insisted on calling him 'Little Englishman' despite the fact that Tom stood at a satisfying six foot two, only marginally shorter than the Polynesian man himself.

Tom assumed that it had nothing to do with his height. Jonah liked to refer to Lara as 'Little Bird' and Tom was fairly confident that Lara couldn't fly, although watching her climb did certainly raise some questions. Despite the amount that Roth boasted, Lara didn't believe she was a particularly good climber, even though everyone knew that she was one of the best.

"Just finishing my rounds," Tom replied. "Besides, Roth didn't seem particularly concerned." Next to him Jonah laughed.

"Well you know him. If you pretend that there isn't a problem, then you don't have to worry about one," Jonah clapped Tom on the back, nearly knocking him off balance. "All English people are the same," he quipped. Tom chuckled and rolled his eyes.

Both men cast their eyes skyward as a bolt of lightning connected with the water less than a mile away.

"Storm is getting bad," Jonah commented nervously. "Perhaps we should head inside?" he suggested. Beside him Tom nodded in agreement as they began to head towards the steel door.

Inside the ship the roar of the storm was dimmed by the narrow steel hallways and the sound of the crew going about their business. Tom looked at his old, tatty watch and decided that there was still some time to get a hot drink from the mess before heading to the alluring warmth of his bed.

"Hey man, you headed to the mess to?" Behind him, Alex Weiss was jogging to catch up.

"Yeah, I thought I'd snag a quick drink before I hit the sack," Tom replied as the nerdy American caught up to him. Alex was one of the few people – aside from Jonah and Roth – with whom he had any kind of real connection. When he was younger he didn't have many friends but he was sure that it would be safe to call Alex a friend, maybe even his best friend.

"The storm's bad huh?" Alex commented suddenly as they neared the end of the corridor. Tom looked at him with a grin.

"Observant as always," he replied as the ship swayed slightly to the right. Tom decided to drive his joke home. "If you think it's bad in here, then you're welcome to join me on a…" The ship listed sharply to the left as they exited the corridor, knocking Tom off balance and causing him to fall.

"Ouch!"

Tom looked down to see that he'd fallen in to someone.

"Oh, sorry about that," he apologised.

"Hi Lara," Alex said as Tom roughly pulled her to her feet.

It had been obvious to the whole crew for a while now that Alex was madly in love with the young adventurer – and Tom could certainly understand why. Despite being a tiny five foot four, Lara Croft had a habit of punching above her weight, and not just in the boxing ring. At only twenty-one years old she was widely considered by many to be a huge up-and-comer in the archaeological world having graduated with honours from University College London. Now, this expedition was the start of what was looking to be a long and fruitful career in the subject. To look at she was certainly pleasing. Her plain, brown hair was tied into a lazy ponytail. Her features were well-defined, something that Tom imagined hadn't escaped Alex's notice.

"Oh, hey Alex," she said nonchalantly as she rubbed her elbow and picked up her iPod.

"Are you going to the mess?" he asked, looking a lot like a loyal puppy. Lara looked up from the device.

"No, I'm just going to go to my room and listen to some music for a while, you know, to calm the nerves ahead of tomorrow."

Alex nodded profusely as Tom tried to suppress a laugh.

"Oh, yeah, I understand. I was just heading that way too. How about I walk you there?" All of a sudden Tom got the feeling that he'd be heading to the mess alone.

"Yeah sure," she beamed. Lara was one of those rare people who had the ability to make everyone she talked to feel like they were special. Tom had noticed in the conversations she had with the other crew members, they were always completely immersed. Unlike Alex, who was oblivious to most things, Tom had never had the courage to speak to any of the important people on the ship, with the exception of Roth, whom he had known since his days growing up in Sussex.

"See you later," Tom called as the pair walked off.

With the dreary prospect of being alone at the mess hall, Tom decided to forgo the cup of hot chocolate that had him salivating just moments earlier and go straight to bed. It was going to be a busy tomorrow with everyone expecting to find Yamatai, or at least some evidence of it.

Tom was awoken by the sound of an alarm.

Quickly slipping out of his cosy bed and hastily putting on a pair of khaki trousers and a crumpled olive green shirt, he opened the door and stuck his head into the corridor.

All along the hall people were running about, constantly showered in the red flashing of the emergency light and the sounds of panic.

"Oh shit!" Tom cursed as he ran back into his room to find his still wet work boots.

All of a sudden there was an almighty crack of thunder and the boat was hit so hard that Tom was flung across the room like a ragdoll and smashed hard into the bare table that adorned the corner of the room nearest the porthole. "Fuck!" The force of the impact had dislocated his shoulder so that it now hung limply by his side. Also his face and arms were pot marked by multiple embedded splinters from when he went careering into the wooden table, leaving thin streams of blood trickling off his fingers.

Before Tom could decide whether to try and reset his shoulder or not a chorus of screams echoed from the corridor. Dragging his useless right arm with him and leaving a trail of scarlet behind him he ran to the doorway and peered round.

At the end of the hall a torrent of ocean water was gushing towards him.

"Oh double shit!"

He swerved quickly back into the room, put his back against the cold, hard, steel of the door and with all the strength he could muster, he pushed. Tom felt the heavy object budge and begin to swing shut, "Come on, you bastard!" he screamed, face red from effort and blood.

The door was inches from shutting before Tom was jolted forward and onto the floor. He choked as the potent taste of salt battered its way down his tired lungs, making him scramble up in panic as freezing sea water invaded his room like a horde of angry barbarians.

The water level was rising fast as Tom desperately looked around for any way out of the room in which he was quickly becoming entombed. There! He thought to himself as the metal sheen of the room's only porthole caught his attention.

Tom waded towards the back wall of the room farthest from the door, legs like lead and teeth chattering from the ice-cold of the unrelenting onrush of water.

By now the ocean had reached chest height as he searched frantically for a release catch.

The porthole opened with a shot as water rushed in from both the door and the window, bringing the level up to Tom's chin. Using his remaining arm as a lever he hoisted himself into the gap and gritted his teeth as he attempted to pull himself through the small window.

His dislocated shoulder snagged on the frame, causing Tom to scream under the water. With a great surge of effort he was able to force himself through the gap. Had it not been for his injury, his normal broad shoulders would have sentenced him to an early grave.

Tom kicked his legs furiously, surging towards the crinkle of light that the moon was selflessly radiating as his lungs burned without the air they so desperately craved.

After what seemed like an age he burst through the surface of the violent waves and gulped down as much oxygen as he could. Tom latched on to a nearby piece of driftwood that was formerly part of the ship. Looking around he could see that the ocean was littered with debris from the Endurance. People were dotted around, some alive and some not. To his right the facedown body of a crew member floated aimlessly by him, a large iron rod protruding from the small of his back, leaving a red stain in the surrounding water.

The Endurance was in two halves.

One was sinking and the other appeared to be relatively stable, although Tom was sure that wouldn't last long. For a brief moment he thought he saw someone jump between the two halves before falling into the deadly grasp on the ocean below. Tom hoped it wasn't anyone he knew.

The sky was illuminated as a bolt of lightning cracked the top of the remaining half of the ship. A sound that reminded Tom of a whale permeated the air before he saw that a large shard of the radio tower had splintered off from the top of ship and began its descent straight towards him.

He paddled ferociously but the current of the waves meant that he was being constantly buffeted.

Tom looked up to see if he had escaped death once again.

Then everything went black.

Well I hope you enjoyed the first chapter of this new story, it certainly took me long enough to write! As I said earlier please feel free to check out my other story :) I don't know when I'll be uploading a new chapter here but hopefully it wont be too long!

Until the next time...