Disclaimer: I do not own Tomb Raider or any material related to Core, Eidos, or Crystal Dynamics in any way or form.
A/N: Thank Joey Montana's "Tus ojos no me ven" for helping me finish this fic. Otherwise, it wouldn't be here and I would have died as a writer.
It's strange, being with her, here, like this.
The park is crowded with people, families picnicking, kids chasing each other, smiling couples snuggling close, groups of teenagers laughing. You'd think that, with the life I lead, I'd want to avoid this. But it's not as though I've had a choice, not with Gunderson's orders and Eckhardt hunting us all down. Still, it's strange to see all this normalcy for once.
-.-.-
It almost hurts to walk amongst these people in their everyday lives, knowing that I'll never be a part of it with the profession I have. Everyone says I love solitude, and I do, but even I crave human company every now and then. Perhaps that's what led me to agree to coming out today.
I almost turn to ask him why we're here, and I barely catch a glimpse of something in his eyes when he grasps my hand, and it feels like liquid lightning, the shock that travels down my spine. My body tenses for seconds that feel like hours as I struggle to consider what I should do-kill him? kiss him? God knows we've come close to doing both too many times before, but what am I to do?-and suddenly, miraculously, I'm gripping his hand just as lightly. I wonder if he can feel, if he can hear, my heart pounding?
-.-.-
My hand slides into hers, my fingers curling around hers, and I can feel the callouses and scars that mark her skin even as I'm praying to a god I don't believe in that she doesn't pull away. When she doesn't, when she grips my hand in return, I let out a breath I didn't realize I was holding.
She's beautiful. I have no other words to describe her otherwise. She's intelligent, strong-willed, sharp-tongued, fierce, terrifying, ruthless, determined, and I find myself wishing my parents could have met her.
-.-.-
He's frustrating. I can't think of another word to describe him. Sly, perhaps. Stubborn, too. Persistent, aggravating, gorgeous, mysterious; everything I imagined a Prince Charming to be when I was a child watching those ridiculous princess movies.
He's looking at me from the corner of his eye, I can tell; it's easier to gauge his expressions now that he's cut those scruffy bangs of his. Shame, really. I would've loved to have pushed them out of his face just once to look at those sapphire eyes of his, sweep my fingers over the line of his jaw to feel the tingle his stubble would cause.
-.-.-
I have no idea when this all started. Maybe it was when I leveled my Boran at her head, or when she whirled around after I disarmed her, gazing at me with those deep brown eyes set in a seductive gaze that I nearly gave into. Maybe it was when she walked into the Café Metro, but I can't worry about that now, not when she's looking at me with one of those rare gazes of hers, like I have all the answers in the world.
It's looks like those that makes my heart and stomach clench, the pain so sharp and sudden I have to look away to pull myself back together. How can she trust me so, knowing my past, the blood on my hands? I suppose I could ask the same of her, but I never will. It's just one of those things between us. Don't ask, don't tell, but we both know and that's more than enough.
-.-.-
He looks away suddenly, and I can't help but feel hurt. I bite the inside of my cheek and start to pull away, steeling myself to close my heart once more, but he stops me, pulling tightly on my hand with a suddenly terrified expression on his face. I'm sure mine mirrors his.
-.-.-
What would she think if I fell in love with her?
-.-.-
It suddenly occurs to me that I could love him.
-.-.-
Maybe I already do.