A/N: Tomb Raider 2013 reboot.

Considering the rather traumatic storyline of this game, I though it highly unlikely that Lara Croft would simply sail off into the sunset with a newly awoken thirst for adventure after everything was said and done. However, it's just a game, and the story obviously has to end somewhere.

That didn't stop me from wondering exactly how Lara might deal with what happened if she hadn't been bulletproof and this hadn't been a game.

Warning: Dark fiction ahead. You've been warned.

Sam is surrounded by pulsing light, connected to a levitating dead Queen by … what? Life force? There isn't even a word for what this is, how messed up it is … She's screaming. So filled with pain and fear, so raw. It's not a sound Lara ever wants to hear coming from someone she loves.

Maybe not anyone.

Ever.

What do you do? What's the protocol for body snatching? For soul stealing? For dead thieves? Lara knows she's done this, knows she made this decision before in good time, but now the seconds feel like they stretch into minutes, into hours, as she stands there with her best friend's life in her hands. It's a stake through the heart. Or is that for vampires? What is this thing then? She leans in, puts her weight behind it, feels the resistance of flesh, edges the ragged point of the wood in deeper.

Looks up into Sam's eyes. Sam? Are Sam and this thing one already? Who has she killed? Did she come this far to lose her – twice? She can't stop, and she can't think.

"Sam? Are you in there?"

"No." Sam's voice behind her, and she turns to find her friend there, blood seeping from her chest. "I'm in here."

But she's not. She's just the one thing now. It's too late.

This is Himiko.

Lara wakes up screaming Sam's name, lurching up so fast in the narrow bunk that she clips the side of her face against the bottom of the rail above her. There is an audible pop and then a hot pain, and in this inbetween place she thinks she is still pressing that fiery arrowhead to her ruined side. She windmills back against the wall before realising that her hands are nowhere near her wound; that her erratic motions have torn the rough temporary stitches worked into her flesh by the Japanese ship medic; that – once again – blood is blooming in a dark patch through the material of her shirt. The pain that folds her in half comes at the same time as the voice at the door.

"Lara?"

Reyes, staying just outside the doorway, her dark eyes ambivalent as she takes in Lara's crumpled posture. Lara caused the death of her lover – by accident doesn't take it away – and Reyes is stuck somewhere between reluctant gratitude for being saved by this girl, and something dark and unsettling that can't ever be forgotten. "It seems that anybody close to you has a pretty low survival rate," Reyes had snarled on the island, and "Better keep your distance, then" Lara had snapped back as they'd nearly come to blows. They weren't exactly friends before, and they certainly will never be friends now.

Reyes isn't ready to cross the divide, but she is still human. She might be one of only a few left. "Lara?" she repeats from her tentative waiting post.

Lara knows that if she asks for it now, Reyes will come to her. Will patch her together as need be. Not warmly, but efficiently. And Lara knows that when Reyes bends over her, she will see herself bending over Roth, treating his injury, and perhaps Reyes will see the same. That vision isn't worth any amount of help.

"I'm fine," she snaps from behind gritted teeth, and the obviousness of the lie almost makes her laugh. Reyes won't buy it. And Reyes doesn't, but from the look on her face as she sums up the situation and doesn't make a move, it isn't worth it for her either.

"Lara?" This time it's Sam, and Reyes catches Lara's eye with one last look before she steps out of the doorway to let Sam through.

"She needs your help."

Sam's dark eyes are huge as she crosses the small space between them and drops down, putting soft hands on Lara's thighs. Like she's trying to calm a spooked dog.

"Lara? Did you have a nightmare? You're bleeding again."

It's not a lucky guess. They're supposedly bunkmates, sharing the narrow double bunks in this tiny little cabin, but Sam's been sleeping elsewhere. The third time Lara woke up screaming they agreed that this wasn't going to work. Sam was exhausted, Lara was fraught. Sam needed rest, and what Lara needed nobody could help her with. Sam argued that she wouldn't leave, and Lara argued right back that she had no choice, and Sam left feeling quietly relieved, and Lara stayed feeling stupidly abandoned. It's like this a lot now. Ambivalence, pain, everyone trying not to hurt everyone else when it's way too late for that.

"Let me see what you've done," Sam goes on, as if she's given up on a response, and her hands pull at Lara's thighs, tries to coax her closer.

There's a lot of stuff I've done.

Clenching her eyes shut for a moment against the flooding imagines Lara scoots closer, biting her lip as the motion sends fire streaming through her nerve endings. She's proud of the fact that the noise that escapes is a muffled whimper rather than a roar, but it doesn't fool her friend. Sam waits for Lara to perch on the edge of the bunk before she reaches up and touches a finger just under Lara's bottom lip with sad sympathy.

"Don't bite it – you've opened the cut again."

That's why she's tasting blood. Oh. Well, a concrete reason is miles better than what's going on in her head. She sits quietly, watching with distant indifference as Sam gets supplies and begins to patch her up. Watches as the other woman lifts her shirt and grimaces at the sight of the infected ugly wound, the popped stitches sticking out of her torn skin in places like dead black insects.

"We'll be on dry land in two days," Sam says. "We'll get this fixed up soon. Just hold on. Keep it clean. Don't move around."

Lara doesn't think Sam is actually talking to her, so she just watches the movement of the dark hair as it shifts about Sam's heart-shaped face. Such softness in the hands fluttering about her body. Sam wraps her side, mouths a silent apology as the tightening bandage pulls Lara into a taut arc, and then reaches up to her face.

"What's this? This is new."

Her fingers trace around the outside of Lara's right eye, and it takes Lara a moment to place the ache.

"Oh." Her eyes flutter closed against the love in that touch. "I hit my face when I sat up." She indicates the underside of the bunk above them, and though Sam doesn't look up she nods.

"You have to be more careful."

Me? I have to be more careful? Lara thinks of all the men she killed, of the things she had to do to save one life. "Yeah," is what she settles on as she closes her eyes again and presses her face briefly against Sam's hand. "Yeah."

Sam's hand stretches against her skin and cups her cheek. "Yeah." Lara feels the other woman's touch shifting, and then suddenly she's being embraced. Sam's arms are light around her, careful, and Sam's mouth is pressed against her temple. Then her cheekbone. She opens her eyes just as Sam's mouth presses against hers, and finds those brown eyes inches from her own. It's uncomfortably intimate. She doesn't know that she's ever wanted this from Sam, but for now Sam's mouth means Sam's breath means Sam's alive, and so she holds that gaze and lets the kiss ride out.

As soon as it started it ends. Sam pulls back, spilling hot breath over her face. "Sorry. I'm sorry…" She's about to launch into a typically Sam-like monologue and then stops. Her eyebrows contracts and she puts her forehead to Lara's. "Sorry. I'm just so grateful … you were there."

Lara rests in the embrace, wishes that Sam had just babbled, gone on and on the way she used to. Normalised the situation. Fill the space. But nothing is the way it used to be.

"I wish you'd talk." She says it before she can stop herself, and when Sam pulls back she can see in the other woman's face that she doesn't understand.

Sam sighs. "I wish you'd talk, Lara. I only know … any of us only knows parts of the story, and you're not letting anybody close. What's going on inside you?"

What's going on inside you, Sam?

"Hey, at least you didn't have some crazy trying to funnel a dead woman's spirit into you." As if Sam's privy to her thoughts. "Thank God for small mercies." A smile, and then Sam's hand on the side of her face again. "Lara, you have a bit of a fever. I'm going to check what other meds they have on this ship. Okay?"

She feels like she's just shifted back up against the wall and rested her head when Sam is back, tucking away the loose strands of her hair as she washes down some meagre pain pills with water that tastes like chalk.

"It's all they have, but it might make you a little more comfortable. You need to sleep."

Ducking under the top bunk Sam scoots in next to Lara and wraps an arm around her shoulder, pulling her closer. This is how it used to be. Relaxing into the warmth, Lara slides down and rests her head against Sam's shoulder. It hurts like hell to sit like this… but then, she hasn't found a way that hasn't hurt since Yamatai.

"Go to sleep." Sam's fingers comb through her hair, play with the tendrils at her temple. There's probably still blood in it, but Lara's still cognizant enough to know that's not something she should point out. It's not a normal thing to say. "Go to sleep."

"I…" She almost drops off and then starts. "Sam, you can't… we decided…"

"I got some rest, Lara. It's fine. Go to sleep. I'll watch over you. I'll keep you safe."

Sam's lips press against her temple, and it's that small thing that cracks her. "I…" she begins with a catch in her voice that she absolutely loathes, and she has to stop and clear her throat. "I don't want the nightmares, Sam."

Sam's breath catches, almost a mirror of her own, and the arm around her tightens. "I'm sorry, Lara. I wish I could take them away. Maybe if I stay with you…" She peters off, and then comes back a little more strongly. Facts help. "You have to sleep. You're not well."

Not well isn't the half of it. She can feel sleep dragging her closer, and she resolutely digs herself in with the only thing at hand.

"It's always Himiko. If it were Mathias I could just… shoot him. I just shot him. I just shot a lot of people. But Himiko…"

Sam's chest expands against her ear and it's a moment before she responds. "Himiko's gone, Lara. You saved me."

This is a stand-off that shouldn't exist. Sam doesn't want to think about Himiko, because it's the one thing she couldn't control. Lara keeps coming back to Himiko, for exactly the same reason.

"I'm aware." Lara doesn't mean to sound quite so tetchy, and tries to smooth it out. "I'm sorry. I don't even know what this must be like for you."

"Because you haven't asked." Two for two in the tetchy department. Sam clears her throat. "I'm sorry too, Lara. There's a lot that happened… we're going to have to talk about it. Just… not now. I can't go there right now."

It disgusts Lara that she has to dig so deep beyond her own angst to find compassion. That she almost doesn't make it, that she almost snarls "You know where I went for you?" before she bites it back quite literally. The taste of blood in her mouth is familiar by now, practically pacifying.

Leave Himiko alone. Leave Sam alone. Is it the same thing?

She decides to focus on the hand caressing her hair instead, clenches her eyes shut until that's all there is. Well, that and all of the dead men, but who's counting. Sam's fingers flutter over her temple, over her cheekbone, over the black ugly bruise at the side of her jaw. Just one of the mementoes Mathias's men gave her when they descended like a pack of wolves.

"I hated seeing them do that to you."

"I hated having it done to me." Lara tries to lighten it up with a ridiculous-sounding chuckle. "I killed so many of them. I suppose it was only fair."

"No! No, it wasn't fair!" Sam's response is immediate and incensed. "How can you even say that? You were protecting yourself! They were trying to kill you!"

"Except for the bits where they ran away begging for mercy and I shot them from behind."

"They would have warned the others." Sam is pushing away from her, trying to turn, trying to look into her eyes. "You were trying to survive, Lara."

"And I did." Lara doesn't want to meet Sam's eyes. She doesn't want Sam to see what's in hers; she doesn't want to see what's lurking behind Sam's. "I fell asleep behind a wall in the mountain retreat one night. It was so stupid, completely open, but I just was so tired and I hurt so damned much… I woke up with some guy nearly on top of me, and I just…" She shakes her head. "The next thing I know he's bleeding out all over me, and I'm twisting an arrow into his gut."

"He was going to hurt you, Lara." There is an edge of such hardness in Sam's usually soft voice that Lara glances up, startled. The expression on her friend's face is one that she's never seen before. One that isn't Sam's. For just a moment - and then Sam is back. A thumping starts up in Lara's left temple.

"I didn't know that, Sam! Yes, sure, maybe… but I didn't even think about it! What kind of normal person kills someone as they're waking up…" She makes a sharp noise as she mimes stabbing someone. "Just like that? I worked out exactly where in the throat I'd have to hit with my pickaxe to …" She reaches up and covers her own throat with one torn-up hand. "That's what I am."

"You're a survivor, Lara." Reaching up, Sam covers Lara's hand with hers. "You're my friend."

"Do you really want a friend who can do what I've done?" Lara still isn't looking at Sam. Her brown eyes are fixed on her knees, and filled with grief.

"What you did was save my life." Sam's hand shifts from Lara's throat to cup her face, to lift it. "You had to do some horrible things. It got really ugly. I think you're going to need some help getting up from this, Lara, and I don't want to make you feel like you're not being heard right now, but I have to say it again. You survived. You saved my life. You did what you had to do. I'm proud of you."

That makes one of us. The thumping in her head intensifies and she closes her eyes against it.

Sam's hand moves to the back of her head and cups it, guides her head back to that narrow little shoulder. "You look exhausted, Lara. We can talk in the morning. Right?"

"Right," she mumbles. Temporary respite. She thinks she may even be able to stay asleep this time, with the only more or less normal thing in her life right next to her.

"Right." A soft kiss warms Lara's forehead, and then Sam burrows down a little. "Go to sleep."

There isn't even a word for what this is, how messed up it is … The screaming coming from someone you love.

She leans in, puts her weight behind the wooden handle. Edges the ragged point in deeper.

Looks up into Himiko's eyes. Or is this Sam? Are they the same thing now?

"Sam?"

"Lara!"

She wants the nightmare to end here, now, today. Wants the feeling of splitting flesh to stop, the warmth of blood running over her hands to disappear. Maybe Sam can save her this time.

"Sam?" Please. Wake me up.

"Lara!"

Well, now she knows it's a nightmare, because the last person to save her would be Joslin Reyes. Except that the grip around her wrist hurts, and the pain in her side is dragging her back up so fast that her head is spinning. She leans in again and sees Himiko's eyes widen, sees her mouth open…

"Lara! LARA!"

There's blood everywhere, and most of it isn't hers. Underneath her Sam bucks and writhes. Reyes is dragging at her shirt, grabbing at the back of her pants. Shrugging off the hands Lara stares at Sam.

"Wake me up, Sam. Wake me up!"

"Lara! You're not dreaming! Get off her!"

The lines blur. But this couldn't be real because she put her climbing axe away, hadn't kept it under the bed as she'd wanted to - hadn't she? - so it can't be right here between them, sticking out of Sam's chest.

It couldn't be.

"Himiko?"

"Jonah, please… "

She's being lifted bodily, being torn away from Himiko.
No, that's Sam…

"Sam? Sam!"

… and as Jonah spins her around she catches Reyes' eyes.

Now you know how it feels.

But she doesn't know if Reyes is saying it, or if she's saying it, or if she's only thinking it.

She doesn't know what's inside anymore.