Hands To Heaven

Summary and disclaimer: What if Lara and Hillary actually were lovers in TRCOL? How would he have responded to her absconding with Terry Sheridan, and, more importantly (!), what would they have done the night before she left? This is a one shot fic. The title of this one is from a song by Breathe-lyrics at the bottom of the story for anyone who's interested. I'm making no money, and I only write out of love for the Lara/Hillary pairing. This one's for the Chris Barrie BBS-hope you like it, guys!

The fading lustre of the setting sun washed over James Hillary as he stood, casting his pale features with the illusion of warmth and colour. The large bay window that looked out onto the front "garden" of Croft Manor had recently become a favourite haunt of his in his quieter moments. Tonight, the view across the grounds did little to lighten his mood. As the shadows grew longer across Lara Croft's elegant but cosy private drawing room, Hillary swirled the glass of scotch in his hand and took a sip. Long since discarded, his tailcoat lay across the back of the chaise lounge and his normally immaculately pressed white shirtsleeves were rolled to his forearms, revealing his elegant hands and slim, yet muscular wrists. The shirt itself was untucked but still clung just enough to his torso to hint of his well toned frame, honed to a wiry yet substantial perfection from years of sparring with Lara. Tonight he was alone, which explained the dual irregularities of his appearance and his intrusion into what was essentially Lara's private room. Although not one to take liberties when his employer was away, tonight was different. It was the first night he had been alone since…

It had been twelve hours and fourteen minutes since he had said goodbye to Lady Lara Croft, and already the temperature in the house had seemed to drop fifty degrees in her absence. They had become lovers only recently, and Hillary still found his dual position in her life unnerving. For the past fifteen years he had been her butler, physical trainer and confidant. To this remit was now added the role of lover and Hillary was still getting used to the unsettling and yet erotic contrast of seeing Lara as both paramour and employer. Of course, their relationship had never been simply that of mistress and servant-it was built on mutual trust and appreciation and had been so for years, but the recent shift in the dynamic of their rapport still took some getting used to for a butler who was set in his ways.

Hillary thought back to the night before this one; how exquisite Lara had looked as she had lain in his arms, her long raven hair splayed wildly over the pillow and his chest as they'd held one another. Their lovemaking that night had been rapturous, but tinged with a kind of desperation, as they knew that these would be their last moments together for some time. Lara's beautifully proportioned, voluptuously curvaceous body had driven Hillary to heights of passion that he hadn't felt with anyone before. The way she had responded so strongly to his touch astounded him, until he realised that they had been dancing with one another for years, in combat and in life; why wouldn't they dance well as lovers? From the outset, their union had been exquisite, and that night they had touched and tasted one another with a passion borne of deepening love.

Having only recently discovered their infatuation, and still in the throes of first love, their imminent separation was something that neither had wanted to contemplate. For the first time, Hillary had spent the whole night in Lara's bed, and as she slept the exhausted sleep of one who knew she had a long day ahead when the dawn rose, he had watched her. Innocent in slumber, she clung to him, the gentle contours of her body complementing his own perfectly. He knew, at that moment, that he could never be parted from her; that he loved her more than life itself. And yet, as dawn's grey fingers infiltrated the velvet night sky, Hillary knew that they must, temporarily at least, be parted. The thought of Lara's imminent departure, little more than four hours away at most, kept him awake for what was left of the night. He would never betray his true feelings to Lara; his fear that she might not return; his desperate hope that she would not have a sudden change of heart when she was away; the burn that began in his chest whenever he contemplated being parted from her; those were feelings that he must keep from her. He knew that she had to fulfil this particular task, of finding Pandora's Box; not for MI6 but for herself. If she didn't, she would be forsaking some of the very qualities that he had grown to love about her, but that didn't make his heart any the less tender for the knowledge. When she had awoken sleepily a few hours later, he had pulled her close, relishing her nearness while he could; but all too soon it was time to part.

Lost in reverie and taking another sip of his whiskey, Hillary contemplated the events of the day. He was not, by nature, a melancholy man, but after Lara had left Croft Manor that morning he had felt his eyes sting in a way that he hadn't felt for many years-a tumult of emotion that was as foreign to him as he had once perceived Lara's desire for him to be. The steady, reliable, some would even say stolid butler, who had cared for the Lady of the Manor since she was barely twelve years old, was, if he wasn't careful, going to unravel. Although they had said their goodbyes previously in private, Hillary still felt his heart lurch as Lara left the manor, and he knew that every moment until she returned to him would be an eternity. Logically, he had reasoned to himself as she left, he knew that neither of them was ready to go fully public on their new relationship just yet, so to all intents and purposes, the rather businesslike farewell at the front door was a façade; but that didn't stop his raging emotions from threatening to break through as Lara walked, once more, from his life.

No onlooker, not even Bryce Turing, could have imagined that ten minutes prior to their parting at the gates of Croft Manor, they had held each other tightly, both dreading the end of the embrace. They knew that they would be parted for some time, and that there was very little that they could do about that. Although Lara had taken the challenge of finding Pandora's Box willingly, and she was absolutely determined to do so, her emotions were clear as she had looked into Hillary's eyes.

"I love you," she had murmured quietly, and with the barest touch of gentle, warm lips, she had kissed him tenderly. When they parted once more, Lara had nestled against the broad shoulders of her friend and lover while he had stroked her soft ebony hair from her face, marvelling once more that he held Lara Croft in his arms.

Quite unable to speak, Hillary had embraced Lara for one last time, his own body trembling as much as hers. Not even the thought of her spending time with Terry Sheridan could have spoiled that moment for Hillary. She loved him, and finally, after all these years of quiet service and contemplation, he wanted to tell her the same. But for the moment, he could not. Instead, he settled for "Please be careful, Lara," the standard response when she informed him of her adventures. This time, however, the sentiment was all too clear.

"I promise I will," she had replied, smiling. "After all, I've only just found you-I'm not going to go getting myself killed if I can help it!"

Hillary had smiled back, and, becoming friend and butler once more, he had ushered her to the front gates where the MI6 car was waiting. The blacked out windows of the secure car blocked her from view the instant she stepped in, but Hillary waited until he had lost sight of the car before he closed the heavy front door. She was gone; with every fibre of his being he prayed that she would return.

Soon after Lara had left, and to counteract this wave of feeling (for, as the rational part of his brain argued, it was pointless to spend time moping over circumstances over which he had no control) he had embarked on a cleaning spree of the lower levels of the manor. Carefully avoiding any of Lara's private rooms, he had spent most of the day sprucing up the wine cellars and filing away decades of Croft family memorabilia into more manageable piles. His predecessor Winston had never been one for systems, and he found that the work occupied him enough to take his mind, if not entirely his aching heart, off Lara's departure.

Eventually, he had to return to the main part of the house. It was late in the day, and though he would usually retire to his own suite of rooms to read and relax, he felt an overwhelming need to feel closer, in some way at least, to the woman he loved. That was why he had broken the age-old protocol of Croft family butlers and he had entered the family space without a reason, or an invitation. In all honesty, he couldn't see Lara objecting to his invasion tonight, and hopefully for a long time to come. He just needed to feel that he was near her.

Etiquette would not allow him to drink from Lara's own decanter, so he had brought his own bottle of Famous Grouse with him. It was small comfort, but it did warm him a little as the night began to draw in. He gazed out as the last fading rays of the sunset began to disappear, and he wondered if Lara was thinking of him. He knew that she could handle whatever trials were thrown at her, but that didn't stop him fearing for her safety. Now that she had been gone some time, he also couldn't help but feel a stab of jealousy that she had chosen as her partner in the adventure a man who had treated her so callously. Hillary had been the one who had picked up the pieces and offered comfort when Sheridan had fled from Lara's life, pushing his own feelings into the background both during and after Lara's affair with the bounty hunter. Although he was safe in the knowledge that Lara loved him, Hillary was only human, and the thought of a ruthless bastard like Sheridan being in close proximity to the woman he loved was enough to put a bitter taste in Hillary's mouth.

However, jealousy was counterproductive and futile. There was little point in worrying about what he could not change. Hillary finished his glass of scotch and picked up the bottle. He crossed the drawing room floor and decided to see if Bryce needed any help decoding the orb. Returning briefly to his quarters to shrug on a jacket, he headed over to Bryce's caravan. Hillary was not a natural technophile, but he thought he could be of use to Lara in some small way, and Bryce had taken many of the reference books with him for further study.

Bryce's caravan was small and filled with all manner of computers, and the man himself was preoccupied with a flight simulator when Hillary entered. He looked up briefly as the butler sat down.

"Any news?" Hillary asked, his voice carefully casual.

Bryce grimaced. "Not yet-with only half the orb to go on we'll be lucky to get anything new. Hopefully Lara will get back to us sooner or later with some more intel." The techno geek smiled briefly. "If anyone's going to get the information, it'll be Lara. D'you want a drink, Hillary?"

"No thanks," Hillary replied. "I'll get stuck into some more Greek history while we wait for news." He settled down as best he could with a book and tried to focus on the ancient text, but it was very little use. As if on cue, there was a tinny ringing sound. Heart thumping, Hillary sprang from his chair and rushed over to Bryce.

"Lara, you alright?" Bryce asked, all of his attention now on the small screen to one side of him.

"Smashing," Lara replied wryly. "I'm on my way to Shanghai and I need you to look at something for me."

Hillary was glad that Bryce was fielding most of Lara's questions and instructions, because he could barely utter a word. As she held up the medallion, and Bryce responded, it was all Hillary could do to stop staring at her. She looked fine-tired, but fine. There was so much he wanted to ask her, but time was short, and so he had to make do with the fact that she was OK. All too soon the conversation was over.

"Miss you," Lara's low voice came through clearly and sent a shiver down Hillary's spine.

God, how I miss you, he thought, but once again he was unable to speak beyond a commendably steady "Bye." As the connection was severed, Hillary looked away for a moment, trying to collect his thoughts.

"She's OK, Hillary," Bryce said gently. "She's going to be fine."

Hillary looked at the other man in astonishment for his candour, and as he met his gaze, he saw the compassion and understanding in Bryce's eyes.

"I know. She always comes back." Hillary replied. "I just worry too much."

"Not too much," Bryce responded. "Just about enough, I'd say." He placed a consoling hand on Hillary's shoulder. If he hadn't before, Hillary was now certain that he'd given his feelings away.

Pause.

"You love her, don't you?" Bryce asked softly. "You always have."

Hillary sighed. There was no hiding it. "Let's just say that I will be very glad to have her back on English soil, the sooner the better." With that, he stood up. "I'll see you in the morning."

"Sleep well, man." Bryce called as Hillary left.

Until the woman he loved was back in his arms once more, Hillary knew there was very little chance of that.

Hands To Heaven-Breathe

As I watch you move, across the moonlit room
There's so much tenderness in your loving
Tomorrow I must leave,
the dawn knows no reprieve
God give me strength when I am leaving

So raise your hands to heaven and pray
That we'll be back together someday
Tonight, I need your sweet caress
Hold me in the darkness
Tonight, you calm my restlessness
You relieve my sadness

As we move to embrace,
tears run down your face
I whisper words of love, so softly
I can't believe this pain,
it's driving me insane
Without your touch, life will be lonely

Chorus

Morning has come, another day
I must pack my bags and say goodbye, goodbye

Chorus

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