A/N: This story follows the Core Design continuity for the games (with Alister borrowed from Legend, of course) and is set sometime after Tomb Raider Chronicles.

1.

She was a celebrity - a heroine, even, if you believed the bloody red-tops - so naturally it was far beneath her to bother turning up on time for a meeting with somebody as pedestrian as Alister Fletcher, even if it was a meeting she herself had instigated.

In fact, Alister had been reluctant to attend in the first place, and has said as much to Professor Avery when the older man had called Alister into his office to inform him of her request.

"Absolutely not. Absolutely not. Not a snowball's chance in...in…" Alister couldn't quite bring himself to utter even the most innocuous swear word in front of his dignified dissertation tutor. "...in a frying pan."

Professor Avery raised his eyebrows but said nothing, and Alister continued.

"I mean, she's an absolute charlatan. Titillating lust-filled investors and charming feeble-minded academics, just so she can get funding to go crashing around important historical sites all in the name of 'saving the world' - i.e. getting her hands on some ridiculous little trinket she's decided has superpowers -"

Here Alister had to pause to catch breath. He could get quite wound up on the subject of Lara Croft.

"- and then the media laps up her lies about dragons and Egyptian gods coming back to life like it's scientific fact. I mean, I've heard her described as an archaeologist! The woman doesn't even have a degree."

The professor looked unmoved by Alister's passionate condemnation. "She has several honorary degrees."

"Yes, from glorified polytechnics and university colleges desperate for a bit of media attention." Alister sounded more vitriolic that he intended to. He took a deep breath. "Professor Avery, I'm...I'm flattered that you've thought of me…"

"Quite evidently you're not, Alister." Professor Avery heaved his own sigh and leaned back in his chair. "I was aware that you weren't a fan of Ms Croft's work, but I didn't realise you held such a low opinion of her."

He looked a little disappointed, which distressed Alister, but he could hardly deny it now, could he? Professor Avery continued; "Personally, I find her to be quite an entertaining addition to the field. She's certainly enthused the nation with her exploits. Interest in history and archaeology haven't been so high in all the years I've been teaching."

"Yes, but all these new students want is to go crashing into ancient tombs and gather up whatever little pretty ornaments they can lay their hands on. Remember that incident in Giza?"

"I'll admit, the amount of copy-cat adventures is rather troubling," Professor Avery conceded. "Especially considering the ramifications if they were to stumble upon one of the more unusual artefact…"

Alister stared uncomprehendingly at his tutor. "Surely you don't believe the stories she makes up?"

"Not necessarily all of them, Alister. But I can't help being a little intrigued…"

Alister could scarcely believe what he was hearing. This man he'd known for almost a decade, this man he admired and respected; this man was now saying he believe in a bunch of fairy tales propagated by a fraud? "Professor...are you mad?"

The words were out of his mouth before he could stop them, and he was already stuttering an apology when the professor started laughing. "Well, you certainly have strength in your convictions."

"Professor, I'm sorry, I-"

"It's okay, Alister, honestly. I've been called far worse."

Still, Alister was horrified with himself, and eager to make amends. Unfortunately, right at this moment, he could think of only one way to do that. Perhaps enduring an audience with Lara Croft would be worth it to stay on the professor's good side. "Did- did she say why she wanted to meet with me?"

"No…" Perhaps sensing Alister's reluctant change of heart, Professor Avery opened one of his desk drawers and withdrew a business card. "Would you at least consider it? Most of my students would kill for an opportunity like this."

"Then why haven't you asked one of them, then?"

"Because Ms Croft wants you. She requested you by name, Alister. And she even asked me if your historical knowledge was as impressive as she had heard." At this, the professor smiled. "I said, probably more so."

Alister felt himself turn pink. "I didn't realise I had such a reputation."

"Let's just say I'm not the only one who recognises your potential." He slid the business card over to Alister who, after a moment's hesitation, picked it up and slipped it into his jacket pocket. Professor Avery's face broke into a wide smile. "Let me know how it goes, won't you?"

When Alister had rang the number on the rather nondescript business card, he had been expecting to get straight through to the great Lara Croft herself, so he was not at all pleased when he found himself speaking with a rather refined-sounding man instead. "Good evening. May I request your name and reason for telephoning?"

"Ah, it's Alister Fletcher." He resented being made to feel like a nuisance caller. "I'm calling because Ms Croft asked me to."

"One moment, please," said the man on the other end, and then the next thing he knew, Alister had been put on hold. On hold, with Vivaldi's The Four Seasons and everything. Really, it was too much, and he was just considering hanging up when the music cut out and a female voice came on the line. "Hello, Mr Fletcher?"

"Speaking."

"Thank you for calling. I presume Professor Avery passed on my details?"

You needn't think I'd be pursuing you otherwise, Alister thought, but he wasn't quite brave enough to say it. Instead, he simply replied, "He did. He said you requested a meeting."

"That's right. How does Thursday suit you - at the Randolph, in The Drawing Room? Two o'clock?"

"That would be fine." Alister immediately cursed himself for agreeing to the first time she had suggested. As though he had nothing better to do.

"Good. I'll see you then. Goodbye." Before Alister could speak again, she had hung up, leaving him with nothing but the realisation that he was regretting this meeting already.

He was going to leave, Alister decided. To hell with what the tardy Ms Croft may think. He didn't have the entire afternoon to waste on her; Alister Fletcher was a busy man. He had places to go. Books to read. Dissertations to write.

It was just as Alister was draining the last drop of water from his glass and psyching himself up to go when the double doors of the restaurant were swept open to reveal the curved, confident figure of a woman dressed conventionally for lunch in a purple wrap dress, kitten heels and a rather serious expression.

It was her.