Of Gods and Blackbirds
by: fluffy pantoufle

a/n: hello, ladies and jelly spoons! : ) thank you for your complimentary reviews, i appreciate them more than you know! i didn't want to leave you hanging for too long with that last chapter - therefore, i worked extra hard this week to make sure you wouldn't be in suspense in regards to what's happening with alex.

i reference the poem desiderata right off the bat - if you're not familiar, PLEASE go read it. like, even before you read another word of what i've written. it's just an incredible poem, hahaha - by far one of my favorites, at least from the 20th century.

in this chapter: lara's POV (i couldn't NOT write her perspective), momotaro, more mythological details...and robin thicke? yes, you read that correctly. forgive me, i'm insane.

enjoy! and feel free to drop a review!


In my university days, I would try to wake up every morning and recite Desiderata, usually while making a cup of tea or taking a shower. Often people use the poem in their daily devotionals, and though I've never considered myself to be religious, it became very much like a prayer to me. If you don't happen to be familiar with the text, it's quite brilliant. Until recently, I lived my life by those words and everything just seemed to make perfect sense. Sam had a copy of the poem framed for me to put on my bedroom wall. I never got around to doing it, though...the meaning was already lost in the ether.

Go placidly amid the noise and haste, and remember what peace there may be in silence. Peace? The poet, Max Ehrmann, clearly never knew the terror that could accompany silence, the fear that a single breath could get you caught and killed in an instant. Placidity was a luxury I that was no longer in my price range, especially as I watched over Alex as he slept. I wanted to scream and cry and curse the universe for all the misery in our lives. I wanted everything to be clear and concise - I was exasperated with life-threatening mysteries, thinking I'd given them up when I left Yamatai behind.

"You look like you can use something to eat, Lara. Here."

We were in a small studio apartment above a Japanese restaurant, not too terribly far from my own. Jane was gone, searching for whoever - or whatever - tried to hurt Alex. I'd been so wrapped up in my thoughts and anger that I neglected to speak to Momotaro; by all rights, I should have been starstruck. Here was an actual mythological figure, in the flesh...and I couldn't even formulate a coherent, cordial sentence.

"Thank you," I said as Momotaro - Mo, rather - set a plate down on the nightstand next to the bed. It consisted of several dumplings and a bit of rice, and though it looked delicious I wasn't feeling particularly hungry. "I appreciate your kindness."

He smiled. "Don't sweat it. It's the least I can do for you, considering all that you've sacrificed." Mo had an easygoing way about him. Everything from his voice to his body language read cool, calm, and collected - almost like a surfer. Even his hair was a bit on the longer side, longer than I expected. His arms were decorated in intricate, colorful tattoos that blended together to create two living canvases. I did notice that he had a small peach tattooed near his left wrist, and I couldn't help but smile. "I am surprised I haven't met you before, considering that your friend comes to the restaurant all the time."

"What?" I gestured to Alex. "You don't mean..?"

Mo shook his head. "No, no - the Japanese girl. Samantha, is it?"

I blinked. When did Sam ever mention that she ate here? I feel like I would have remembered that kind of detail... God, was I so wrapped up in sadness that I no longer commit information to memory? "Yes, that's her. You'll have to forgive me, I'm just a bit overwhelmed."

"Hey, it's okay," he said, helping himself to the empty wooden chair beside me. "She didn't tell me a whole lot about you or the whole Yamatai situation, but I did my homework on Himiko a long time ago. I can't imagine what you're dealing with, kid."

"Kid?" I studied Mo's face, probably far more than what was acceptable in typical society - he appeared young, perhaps no more than thirty to a casual observer. However, there were centuries of life in him, which made the current situation all the more peculiar. "I don't mean to pry, Mo, but I just have so many questions..."

"You want to know what I'm doing living above a noodle shop in New York City?"

"Well, it is at the forefront of my mind, yes."

He laughed, the sound of which was so light and relaxed. I would be lying if I said I wasn't envious of his ability to be so calm. "Probably the simplest answer I could give you is immigration, but I know you're much smarter than that and deserve a better explanation." There was a pause as Mo thought about precisely what he wanted to say. It was evident that he didn't have to answer this question very often. "When people move from one country to another, they tend to bring their culture with them. Usually, culture is like, this umbrella term for a lot of shit that everyone nowadays discusses and indulges in when they want to feel diverse and fancy...like eating at a Japanese noodle joint instead of a McDonald's, for example."

I tilted my head to the side, confused by the significance of fast food in our overarching conversation. "Okay, keep going."

"Well, what most people fail to realize is that they aren't the only ones who immigrate. All of the stories and legends - they come along for the ride, too. Sometimes for better, sometimes for worse. And sometimes, those stories manifest into something that comes to exist in the mortal plane." Mo seemed satisfied with his response, and sighed. He dipped his neck back to stare at the ceiling. "And that, dear Lara, is the incredibly abridged version of what I'm doing here."

It made sense...well, sort of. Jane liked to tell me that I had "a lot to learn about the old gods," and it was obvious that she wasn't incorrect in that regard. "Can't you just go back to Japan? Your story is beloved throughout the country, is it not?"

Mo shrugged. "I suppose so. Problem is, they still think of me as a boy-warrior with a trio of animals and a bag of dumplings. What happens when the boy grows up? No one wrote down that thrilling part of the story."

What was I to say in response? My heart was beating wildly against my ribcage with just that small of an explanation. This was a whole new world opening up before my eyes, so beyond the scope of Yamatai, and I wasn't entirely sure I could handle such knowledge - not yet, anyway.

Take kindly the counsel of the years, gracefully surrendering the things of youth. Nurture strength of spirit to shield you in sudden misfortune. But do not distress yourself with imaginings. Many fears are born of fatigue and loneliness.

These were no longer imaginings. The gods were alive, and wherever they were, they were having a very real impact on my life. I pressed my fingertips into my temples in an attempt to alleviate the stress. "I can't tell whether I feel enlightened or burdened."

"A mixture of the two sounds about right," Mo said.

At that moment, the door opened. Jane entered the apartment, and I wondered why she didn't fly through the window, as she was usually so keen to show off her kitsune attributes. She was carrying a tie-dyed shoulder bag. "Jesus, Mo - oba-san really doesn't like me that much, does she?"

"Not really," Mo replied, glancing over his shoulder at the new arrival. "She told me that she saw your shadow the other day, you know."

Jane frowned. "Crap, that's probably why she was just trying to shove a handful of twigs at me." I knew enough Japanese to realize that oba-san meant grandmother - not to mention that I saw the woman when we passed through the restaurant to reach the stairs. She didn't speak any English, which restricted our interaction to no more than a bit of hurried eye contact and nodding.

"I'll have to remind her that if she's going to pay you off, you only accept cash or credit."

"Absolutely not! I won't accept anything!" Jane closed the door and walked over to us, though I gathered that in the moment, she only had eyes for Mo. I couldn't blame her, as thus far he seemed quite nice, albeit a bit jaded. "I can't even believe that you would joke about something like that!"

Mo shushed her, pressing a finger to his lips before nodding at me. "Let's not fight in front of the children, okay?"

She rolled her eyes. "Lara, I hope he treated you kindly while I was away. Can't always trust this one to be a gentleman."

"Oh, everything was perfectly fine," I said, giving Jane a thumbs up. "No complaints from me."

"Good! How's Alex?"

"...I'm not sure." I leaned forward and pressed my hand to his forehead - he still felt feverish. Please, Alex. You can't do this to me now. Be strong. Earlier, I removed his glasses and placed them on the nightstand. Without the thick plastic frames covering his face he looked so different, so youthful. He had quite a bit of stubble on his chin and cheeks, however, which betrayed his age.

I remembered how rough it felt against my own skin when we kissed, and my stomach dropped in embarrassment. Quietly, I hoped no one noticed the crimson flush creep up from my neck and paint me the color of a cherry.

"Did you track it down, Jane?"

She sat down at the foot of the bed and nodded. "Yep. Killed the sonofabitch, too. He didn't put up too much of a fight, which was surprising. But at least I was able to get back your gun!" I wasn't prepared for Jane to pull my .9mm out of her bag and hand it to me - it felt like receiving the strangest Christmas present of all time, but I was grateful nonetheless. "And, I went back to your apartment, Lara - I needed to check Sam's room one more time. I'm glad I did." Much to my horror, Jane revealed a white scarf that had been spattered with blood.

I gasped as a million thoughts ran through my mind, each more terrible than the last. "You don't think she's dead, do you?!"

"Oh, no," Jane said, shaking her head. "I just think she put up a good fight! But no, whoever has her most certainly needs her alive and well." Then, to Mo: "Humans always jump to the worst conclusions, don't they?"

He took the scarf from Jane, scrutinizing the amount of blood with a crinkled expression. "Can you blame her? Look at this thing."

"Why do you even need the scarf?" My voice was low, and it took every ounce of self-control I had for me not to point my gun at either of them. Of course it was an irrational thought to have, but then again, I was in a room with what was essentially a talking fox and a centuries-old folk hero. This was what I would consider to be an irrational situation.

"I can read the blood," Mo said, slowly turning the scarf over in his hands. It was as if he was trying to read from an old book, the words faded with age and decay. "There's a talent you didn't know I had, eh? For some reason, they liked to omit that part from the stories."

My eyebrows shot up in surprise. "How interesting," I murmured, genuinely impressed by the idea that blood could contain more than just cells, platelets, and plasma. "Exactly what does that entail?"

"It's...honestly a little abstract. Tough to explain." His fingertips lightly traced the stains in slow, calculated circles. As he spoke, I sensed that his mind was far away, deep in translation. "But it tells a story, like an extra set of eyes..."

"Sometimes it takes awhile," Jane said, leaning forward to place her hand over mine. I wasn't yet used to her being so close, and instinctually I pulled away.

"It's not you," I whispered, hoping that Jane didn't take offense. To be fair, I was still warming up to her presence - she came off a bit erratic for my tastes, but I also knew that her heart was in the right place. Or, at least I hoped so. Considering she brought Alex to me and apparently killed our intruder, I was willing to trust in her for the time being. "This is all just...a lot to process."

Jane nodded. "Yeah, of course. I should have known." She gestured to my arms.

My scars. With everything happening so fast, I never stopped to think about them. It was rather remarkable, though... I had been walking around New York in long sleeves and sweaters thinking that the scars would somehow draw attention to my damage, both mental and physical. I assumed that they branded me as an outcast. Amongst the likes of Jane and Mo, however, they didn't seem to care one bit.

Did I truly think that I would be judged by these scars when there's so much more at stake? How foolish...

"They don't make you a pariah, Lara." It was as if Jane could read my mind - wait, could she? Shit, I had absolutely no idea what she was capable of doing. "If anything, I think it tells the world you're a force to be reckoned with."

I didn't respond.

"...ugh."

Alex's eyes began to open slowly as he adjusted to the brightness of the room. I grabbed his hand and squeezed it, happy to let him know I was there. It felt like a weight had been lifted off my shoulders. "Oh, thank God!"

"Did he...stop by to see me, too?" His voice was weak, his skin was pale, but he otherwise seemed fine. "Nowadays you never know who you'll meet...maybe Buddha will swing by to play Jenga later..."

"Last I heard, he actually spends a lot of time in Portland," Mo said. "He's into all that crunchy granola stuff, but I guess that might not be surprising."

"Do you feel okay, Alex?" I refused to let go of his hand, afraid of losing him again. Not that holding on to him would prevent anything from happening, of course, but it made me feel more at ease. "You scared me."

He laughed. "Pretty sure I scared me. I'm still not entirely sure what that was all about." I handed Alex his glasses. He gratefully slipped them on, then I watched as his eyes focused squarely on Momotaro - they had yet to be introduced. There was a palpable awkwardness in the air. "...who are you?"


Let me just set one thing straight before I even say anything: I am not a jealous person. Seriously. One of the things I typically pride myself on is my rationality, at least when it comes to my expectations of the people around me. Sure, every now and then I might have wished I was Sam, just considering how incredibly close she was with Lara. It seemed like they were sewn together at the hip, and I'd be lying if I said I didn't at least grumble if I saw Sam hug her, or touch her hair, or...

"I'm Momotaro. Glad to see you're feeling better, Alex."

I was vaguely aware of Momotaro's significance in Japanese folklore, but this was unexpected. This was the Mo who Jane mentioned earlier...wasn't he supposed to be a boy? This guy was the complete opposite - even sitting down I could tell that he was tall. He looked like someone who could walk a runway at a Tokyo fashion show, even with the tattoos and the surfer hair. I hated doing it, but I had to give credit where credit was due: the dude was attractive. Inwardly, I groaned - I mean, he could have been the coolest person in the universe, but he had this mysterious, bad boy vibe going on that seemed so effortless. And there I was, what with my one-way ticket on the hot mess express. Not cool.

And why was Lara sitting so close to him? Why was he sitting so close to her? Someone needed to explain this, and fast. He better not have tried to pull a fast one on her, I swear to God. I bet he's the kind of guy who wears deep v-neck tee shirts and slouchy beanie hats and drinks Pabst Blue Ribbon at a dive bar. "Hey baby, you like folk music? I'm into folklore myself - literally." Fucking hipster. Is Lara into that sort of thing? I mean, she's talking to me...and I've been told that I have hipster glasses...shit.

Meanwhile, Jane was sitting at the end of the bed like a cat ready to pounce...because that wasn't awkward or anything. Truth be told, I think she was just excited to see me awake, and that did make me feel pretty good. "This is such a relief! We were all so worried, Alex. But don't worry - I went out and killed the elemental that was messing with you." She seemed awfully proud of herself.

"Oh. That's a good thing...I guess? Thanks, Jane." I wasn't entirely sure what she was talking about, but I was sure it would be explained in due time. In that particular moment, the most important thing was the way Lara's hand held mine as if she never planned on letting go. It was a bit of a vice grip, admittedly - even so, I wasn't going to complain. "Hey, you."

She smiled. "Hello."

"We need to go get Sam."

"I know. We will, once you're feeling better."

"Is this guy coming with us?"

"Yes, I am." Mo didn't seem all that put off by my feeble attempt to exclude him. Whatever. I didn't even know why I was being so petty - is this what jealousy was supposed to feel like? "But considering what happened today, we'll have to make a pit stop."

I tried to sit up, an action that was much more difficult in practice than it should have been - Lara was kind enough to help, and adjusted the pillow behind my back for support. "Speaking of, you'll need to catch me up to speed with current events," I said. "How did we get out of the zoo?"

Mo glanced at Jane for a split second before he turned his attention to me - there was definitely something that neither myself nor Lara knew about. "We told the employees that you were diabetic and fainted from low blood sugar. Jane carried you here, which got us some strange looks...but thankfully, that was the worst of it. Manhattan is full of weirdoes anyway, we aren't that much out of place."

"Could it have been worse?" Lara looked nervous. I guess they didn't talk about my condition while I was passed out.

"Oh, yeah," Mo said with a terse nod. Then, he looked back at myself and Lara. "You don't know what you are, do you?"

I shook my head.

"I'm so sorry, Alex," Jane whispered. She looked legitimately remorseful, and all of a sudden I felt like I wanted to crawl under the bed. "I should have known from the beginning."

"What?" I clenched and unclenched my fists, nervous energy getting the better of me. "Do I want to know?"

"You're a revenant, Alex." The tone of Mo's voice was like that of a doctor telling a patient he has cancer. Because I didn't necessarily understand what that meant, the gravity of the situation was somewhat lost. "I mean...there's never been one like you before, at least not that I'm aware of. But that doesn't make this situation any less dangerous."

"...I don't understand," I said quietly. "Kannon brought me back to life, didn't she? She didn't tell me that there were going to be any strings attached."

Jane sighed. "Kannon is powerful, yes - but resurrection isn't exactly her strong suit. Her abilities are more for reincarnation and ascension." She paused for a moment before offering me a crooked grin. "You should have asked her to come back as an animal! You could've been a bear!"

"That isn't helping, Jane," Lara growled. "Cut to the chase! What the bloody hell do you mean by revenant?" I looked at her in shock - she was still holding my hand, but she was pissed. Her eyes blazed with anger, and though that should have scared Mo and Jane, it made me feel an overwhelming sense of relief.

That's the Lara Croft that I know. That's my hero.

Mo stood up and walked away from us, toward the center of the room. "Centuries ago, people would often use magic to raise the dead from their graves. It isn't common practice anymore what with cell phone cameras and YouTube and all that bullshit, as that's kind of a recipe for mass hysteria. Warlocks and sorceresses have become a lot more discreet over the years."

I held up a hand to signal a pause. "So, wait...are you saying that I'm basically a zombie?"

"Your words, not mine." He crossed his arms and stared at me, kind of like he was trying to figure out a difficult puzzle. "But you really need to understand, Alex - Kannon broke the mold when she made you. Revenants are typically nothing more than undead contract killers. They don't have souls and are susceptible to control by anyone who knows how."

This wasn't making me feel any better. As a matter of fact, I could feel my stomach acid churn with every sentence. I am the special snowflake of the undead. Because yes, of course: God forbid I get a second chance at life at it works out the way I intended.

Lara shook her head. "No," she said. "Alex is still Alex. He's not..."

"I'm still not entirely sure myself," Mo said, cutting her off. "Based upon the fact that a salamander was able to manipulate him into nearly burning down the Central Park Zoo, I'm leaning toward revenant. However, like you said...Kannon managed to imbue his body with his soul, which hasn't ever been done before."

Salamander! I knew what that was - Mo didn't even have to explain that detail. I could practically see the creature's face in my mind. He'd been hiding behind a human disguise, but his presence in my brain left an imprint that was distinctly, hideously reptilian.

"What I don't understand is how that thing could walk amongst humans," Jane said, thoughtfully stroking her chin. "Elementals can't disguise themselves. They either are, or they aren't. Someone else is involved."

Mo frowned. "Well, shit. That corroborates the blood."

Lara stood up, in the process letting go of my hand. I noticed for the first time that she was holding her .9mm, and I made a mental note to ask about where it came from later on. "Let me see if I can get this straight: Sam was kidnapped by the same creature who not only broke into our apartment, but had the ability to manipulate Alex?"

"Maybe not the exact same," Jane said. "But definitely connected."

"There's a ringleader in all of this." Mo's eyes lit up at the revelation. "We'll need to ask around. I know that there's a lot of folks who aren't pleased with Kannon, but I never thought they'd go to these lengths."

"I don't get it," I said. "She was nothing but nice to me. And Roth, and Grim. And the girls." I looked at Lara. "Millie and Coco...she gave them a home. Why would anyone be pissed off about that?"

"Because the world we live in now thrives on an imbalance of power," Jane said. "Without Himiko in her path, Kannon can restore balance. She hears the cries of the suffering. She saves souls. Not every god is so benevolent these days."

Out of nowhere, the sound of Robin Thicke's voice shattered the tense atmosphere that had been weighing down the room. Lara and I looked at each other in shock. That certainly ruined the hipster image I had of this guy in my mind - Robin Thicke was way too mainstream.

Mo chuckled. "Sorry, I really like "Blurred Lines." Is that bad? I don't think it's bad." There was a huge sectional sofa in the corner of the apartment where the song was coming from - presumably a cell phone. He ran over and lifted up a throw pillow, and lo and behold, an iPhone was waiting to be answered. "...oh, shit."

Well, that's certainly not the thing you want to hear a person say when they look at their cellular device. We collectively held our breath as Mo answered the phone, too afraid of who - or what - was on the other end. I didn't know who he was friends with. Hell, I still wasn't even sure if we were entirely safe in the company of Jane, let alone Millennial Momotaro. He seemed to know quite a bit about what was going on - but how widespread was the knowledge that Kannon had returned? How many of these so-called gods knew about my identity?

"Hello. It's good to hear from you, man...oh, nothing. Business is good, I can't complain... What was that? ...no, I hadn't heard." Mo's voice was casual enough to imply that the person on the other end was a friend and not a foe. At least, that was what I wanted to believe. "How do you know? ...okay. Yeah. Maybe that was us in Central Park...it's not like we were trying to make a scene. ...oh, Miss Croft? You know her?"

Oh, fuck. Lara's face went pale at the mention of her name. She slowly sunk down onto the bed next to me, still holding her gun in both hands.

"...she's quite remarkable. Her friend, too...you know about him?"

Noooo.

"Yes, I can do that. Okay, sure. Of course. Straight away... Yep. We'll be there."

That was it. We were more than likely done for. I exhaled and reached for Lara's arm. She wasn't expecting it, however, and yelped in surprise at the touch of my fingertips on her skin. "Everything's going to be okay," I said so that only she could hear. "I won't let anyone hurt you."

As the words left my mouth, a tiny little insidious thought lodged itself into the back of my brain: What if you can't keep that promise, Alex? At any moment, someone can hack into your own personal mainframe and take control, and who knows how that would turn out? I shivered and turned my face so that Lara couldn't see the fear in my eyes. No. I refused to believe it. Despite whatever being a revenant entailed, no matter how bad...I was stronger than that, right?

Mo lowered the phone from his ear, the tiniest ghost of a smile on his lips. "Don't look so glum, chums," he said, pleased with his own little quip. Inwardly, I groaned. "You've got friends in higher places than you think."

Friends? They seemed to be few and far between these days. "I find it hard to believe that anyone would want to help out a revenant," I muttered. "Especially considering what you just told us."

"I don't think you understand what I mean by friends," Mo said. He held up his phone, like I was supposed to know by the blank, black screen who exactly he'd been talking to. "So, let me just put it to you this way: when the Egyptian god of the dead calls you on a fucking iPhone and requests a meeting, there's really no excuse for you not to show up."

...I had a feeling he wasn't referring to Robin Thicke.