The rays of the morning sunlight were unable to penetrate through the thickly-woven curtains. Instead, it cast the room in a somber, reddish glow that could almost give one the impression that daybreak was hours away. Certainly, the figure underneath the sheets was blissfully unaware of it, and slept soundly as the minutes of morning ticked by.

Unaware, of course, until the door was gently opened, bedside table cleared aside with some amount of noise and the curtains parted dramatically.

But the sleeper would not be daunted and turned her back to the sunlight without a word.

"Lady Croft, it is eleven in the morning and as per your instructions, I have come to summon you out of bed. With force, if necessary. Your appointment will be here in an hour." The man grinned at his articulate abilities causing many a wrinkle to form over his good-natured face.

A low grumble sounded from beneath the sheets. And then finally, a more sensible string of words.

"I'm beginning to believe that saying, Winston – 'you are your own worst enemy'."

"I was merely following your instructions, milady." remarked Winston, as he instinctively began to tidy up the clothes that had been carelessly strewn across the Chippendale furniture near the bed.

She bravely opened her eyes and squinted at the glare. "One hour isn't enough to acclimatize oneself to one's routine." She shifted her position in bed and made as if to go to sleep again.

Winston took a step nearer, and spoke – his voice perfectly calm and level. "Lady Croft, if I may..." A grunt on the young heiress' part was indication enough for him to continue. "You did agree to meet with Miss Shadel's lawyer, and you did schedule the appointment three weeks ago. It would be most disappointing, to him and you both, if the meeting did not occur."

Suddenly, she was fully alert. Propping herself up quickly in bed, she regarded Winston with an angry fire in her eyes. "I did not agree to meet with her lawyer – he's a middleman, if anything. I wanted to talk with the woman herself. Let me remind you that it is she who's too cowardly to come meet me in person to discuss the matter. If there is any reluctance on my part, it's only there because of this useless charade I'll have to enact in the next hour. We'll be exchanging nothing but pleasantries – and he'll tell me absolutely naught about the expedition little Miss Connecticut is funding."

Winston nodded sympathetically, despite having heard the complaint several times. "But sometimes we must make do with what has been given to us. Even if that is nothing. It is merely part of being..."

"...civil." she concluded, with some reluctance.

"Precisely."

"Civility aside, I would like nothing but to shove legal technicalities up her –"

" – your breakfast is getting cold, Lady Croft."

Giving her butler a small smile, she swung her feet of the bed and began to get ready for her day.

He stood silently in the reception parlor, intently studying the canvas portrait of Louis XIV. His hands were held behind his back, and his briefcase stood solemnly at his feet. He was attired in what could be considered to be a truce between dull yet professional; only a fool would place him in a profession that lay outside the legal realm.

And that was how Lara Croft perceived him from afar. She would have liked to study the man longer – perhaps arrive at more conclusions, but this time about his character – however, time was precious. And as this was a meeting that could quite possibly make her teeth grind, it was best to get things over with as soon as possible.

She cleared her throat, announcing her presence, and the man turned around quickly. He regarded her with a gracious smile that she immediately categorized as feigned, and held out his hand to grasp hers.

Following the handshake, Lara gestured for him to come sit with her in the main hall, and she followed behind him.

"I trust Winston offered you something to drink, Mr..." said Lara as she took her seat opposite him.

"It's Goethe, actually. And yes, he already did." And then, at a brief attempt at levity, he added, "I asked him if there was a Starbucks around here and –"

" – you would have to go into town for that, Mr. Goethe."

She was not quite in the mood for casual banter, he decided. Very well then, time to get down to business. Placing his briefcase neatly on the table, he clicked it open and pulled out several files. Withdrawing some papers, and oblivious to Lara's involuntary frown, he began to speak. "As you know by now, I am Miss Shadel's legal representative – from the Robbins & Oppenheimer firm based in Chicago. She wants me to convey her disappointment in being unable to meet with you in person – being a recent heiress; there are a lot of legal matters she has to attend to, certain social obligations...I'm sure you understand."

"Of course." replied Lara blandly.

Goethe looked up. Her face was expressionless. Damn, the woman was hard to read if anything. He wondered quietly to himself if this was a resolute British phenomenon. Then he pushed all his thoughts aside, and plodded on. "We have all the documentation, the visas and permits that we need to proceed. However, there is one last thing that would help our expedition immensely."

Outwardly, her face remained placid and calm. Inwardly, questions that ranged from bemusement to anger began to bubble to the surface. Surely he wasn't here to ask for her to accompany their team...? Of course not, she chided herself, don't be so gullible. It was presumptuous of her even to believe that Miss Shadel had sent her lawyer to her for a mere apology. Then what the devil was this show of all these documents and legal counsel for?

She raised her eyebrows slightly – an indication for him to continue.

"Since your father had completed the preliminary work in Delhi, we thought –"

Immediately, Lara held up her hand to interrupt him. "My father completing the preliminary work…" she repeated, "I wonder, Mr. Goethe, is that your information or simply what you have been instructed to say? Because if it's the former case, then you have been seriously misinformed. My father was a primary author on the first paper written about such burial rituals. He was in graduate school at the time and it was a dissertation, but all the findings were his own. After receiving his doctorate, his work was not passed down to whoever was next in line. He pursued studying about this tribe, and went on to publish several more papers on the subject. I find the implication that he collected only preliminary data quite offensive."

Goethe swallowed.

She stopped there, trying to reign herself in. There was so much more she would have loved to have released, but she would see to it that it would not be she who would turn this meeting into a war of words. He was, after all, a bloody lawyer.

Goethe quickly assumed the role of placater. "I assure you Miss Croft, in no way did I intend to tarnish the tremendous work your father did. I am sure you are perfectly correct – I must've just been misinformed..."

Lara narrowed her eyes. Why the groveling? Not only was it unbecoming, it was uncharacteristic – especially for a lawyer. What was the dangling carrot, she wondered?

He continued. "We know that in his studies he did keep certain artifacts, relics...unimportant trinkets," Goethe saw Lara wince but maintained his resolve, "...things that were not handed over to the British Museum but were kept for his own private display." On seeing a flash cross over Lara's eyes, he hurriedly pressed on. "Not that there was anything improper in what he did! He had made the displays available to public viewing on a yearly basis...and such viewings were free of charge – a very charitable gesture!"

"Your point, Mr. Geothe, seems to have eluded you. If you wish to view these artifacts, you would have to come back in the summer – which is when I have decided to make my father's collections accessible to the public. Otherwise, you would have to observe the photographs and other documentation that my father has provided to the Museum of those in his collection."

Goethe shook his head, trying to ignore Lara's growing hostility. "I...or my client, rather, would like to have these remnants. On a temporary basis, of course, and we've now determined that they are imperative for success of our expedition. You would be financially compensated for their brief period of absence."

Lara leaned back in her seat and crossed her arms. "Mr. Goethe..." she began slowly, trying to control her temper, "...try to view the situation from my point of view. All the evidence of this previously undiscovered tribe – their culture, their marriage ceremonies...and mostly importantly, their burial rituals – were brought to light by my father. In the 1950s, despite his youth, my father had already become a noted authority on the subject. Even though he went on to pursue other areas of archeology, this was one of the few finds that he kept near to his heart. It was immensely personal to him. For you and your client to step in decades down the road, and continue his work without giving credit where credit is due is extremely disrespectful. To use excerpts of his unpublished work is outright plagiarism. Just because a loophole exists in the system for your exploitation does not justify your actions."

"My father not being around to defend himself is to you nothing but a convenience – and it is my duty, as his daughter, to speak in his stead. Since you did not ask for my approval, or even the approval of his colleagues, I would have to condemn every step you have taken as an insult to my father's work. And to come into my house and offer me money to obtain possession of these artifacts only compounds the insult. At this point in time, there is nothing that you could bring to the table to convince me to share any information with you."

All the while Goethe had been listening intently with a sinking stomach. So far, nothing had gone according to plan. Perhaps then...he would use his last card. "There is...one more thing, that we could offer you."

"And what would that be?"

"Your assistance. We could make you the second leading expert on our team, and compensate you well for your time. You would, or course, be traveling with us – all expenses paid –"

" – what is with you lawyers and money? What makes you think that the same things that appeal to you appeal to the other members of society?"

"Miss Croft," spoke Goethe slowly, "we are asking you to accompany us on the expedition. That way, you could personally see to the safety of your father's findings and help continue his work."

Lara held her breath. This was what she had wanted him to say all along, really. She hadn't believed that the words would come to be – it had all been wishful thinking, until now. She had reached an intersection and she had to make a choice. Lara studied the weaving of the Turkish carpet beneath her intently. Working alongside and with the likes of Goethe troubled her deeply. However, could that fact be overshadowed by the continuation of her father's work? Or would they use her just as they were maneuvering Goethe's own tongue and actions? Being manipulated, being restricted...those were some of her greatest fears. And working for people who had tarnished her father's work, even if unintentionally, would be quite the betrayal.

She had made her choice.

"The situation and my decision, Mr. Goethe, has not changed. The success of your expedition lies entirely in you and your client's hands. I simply cannot spare you the time. Thank you very much for coming, and it is unfortunate that we could not have met under better circumstances." Her tone was cool, but polite, and it was obvious that the discussion was closed.

Goethe didn't see it that way, however. "Lady Croft –" He began to rise out of his seat but Lara had already beat him to it, and began walking away.

"Winston will see you out, Mr. Goethe. Do have a nice day."