"Chase after truth like hell and you'll free yourself, even though you never touch its coat-tails."
-Clarence Darrow


6. Catch Up

Her skin was burning.

Lara sat up in bed, struggling to catch her breath. Every part of her body was on fire beneath the sweat-soaked sheets. She ripped them away and stumbled towards a window, throwing it open to the cold air outside. The breeze had an immediate effect. Catching her breath, Lara laid her forehead against the windowsill with closed eyes.

She had dreamed. And for the first time in many months, it wasn't about being trapped and broken beneath a collapsed pyramid. Somehow, it was much worse.

There was no way to be sure what she had seen of Karel in the dream was real or an elaborate story her subconscious had thought up. Somehow, she suspected it was the truth. Her back still burned where Karel's wings had. She still felt the adrenaline of the fight. Her body had responded to the flames, dream or not. And perhaps the most troubling part- she had sympathized with him. She had felt the hunger to kill every last Lux Veritatis warrior in that church.

I must be going crazy.

Lara turned to face the clock on the wall opposite her. It read 03:45 and the darkness outside confirmed it. She pinched the bridge of her nose; there would be no more sleep for her tonight, no matter how much her body was in need of it.

Wrapping in the small blanket laying across the foot of her bed, Lara made her way down the hall towards the washroom. The blanket fell away as she turned a tap to fill the basin with warm water. She splashed her face, in part to wash away the sweat, in part to wake herself up, and then looked in the mirror. She gasped and stumbled back into the wall as she caught sight of her own reflection.

Her eyes were entirely black.

Even as she noticed it, the shadow melted away into brown irises filled with worry. In seconds Lara once again stared at her usual self.

She felt the burn of bile in her throat and leaned against the sink, waiting for the nausea to pass. Worse than her distress over what was happening was the knowledge that none of it was imagined. Karel had clearly done something to her in the underbelly of the Strahov and she had no idea what, and rather than stopping at his death, it was growing stronger.

X

The last light died on the tip of the cigarette in Kurtis's mouth and he flicked it away impatiently, watching it sail over the edge of the rooftop. Smoke drifted past his lips, making it hard to see his hands as he tugged sharply on the rope at his waist. Satisfied it was knotted properly and firmly attached to the stone detailing of the rooftop, he turned and stepped backwards over the edge.

His hand gave a quick tug, halting the rope from slipping through the harness any quicker than needed. He planted both feet firmly against the stone wall and slowly lowered himself, step by step.

A sharp gust of wind nearly knocked him off balance and he gripped tightly to his rope while waiting for it to pass. His exposed fingers burned from the cold, leaving him thankful he'd thought to put on gloves, if only to keep his palms warm and sans rope burn.

He let go for a moment, relishing the weightlessness as he fell past two stories of what appeared to be- on inspection through the telepathic red haze in his mind -two floors of pure storage. If he didn't know better, he'd say she owned the whole damn building.

Fifth floor. He'd found what he needed.

Kurtis twisted his rope at an angle again, wincing as his fingers brushed the rapid nylon for only a half-second and gained red welts for it. Despite this, he managed to halt his descent and paused for a moment, wary of noise on the street below. Glancing down, he spotted a tourist drunkenly stumbling through the lower alley, aiming haphazardly for a courtyard door. The man was clearly in no condition to spot a man hanging above.

A quick mental nudge dislodged the lock holding the window closed and Kurtis crawled inside. He sat crouched on the worn hardwood, willing the boards not to groan beneath his feet.

He saw them then. Cameras, blinking in the shadows of the ceiling, arcing in a path that would in seconds focus fully on him.

Hand reaching for his Chirugai, Kurtis let the weapon loose toward the far corner. A short buzz indicated the wires had been severed and the weapon arced sharply to the next camera. In a matter of moments six cameras lay in tiny heaps in the stairwell and he caught the disc once more. The blades slipped once more inside their metal sheathe and he slung it on his belt.

Kurtis pressed an ear to the wall and closed his eyes. He was rewarded with the faint sound of running water and gave a brief, triumphant smile before realizing the sound came not from his current floor, but above it.

Goddamn European buildings. He'd miscounted and made his way onto the fourth floor, one lower than needed. ...which means this should be storage.

Kurtis knew instinctively that every room ringing the stairs was empty. A quick glance mentally showed that every room was the same, all except for one.

At the end of a long hall was a single door with a sliver of light below it. And now, after the security cameras had been dealt with, there was also movement. Heavy footfalls, likely male. Footfalls that were growing closer to the door.

Still crouched, Kurtis quickly made his way past the hall and started up the stairs to reach the fifth floor. The door opened as he set foot on the firs step. Panicking, Kurtis glanced around before kneeling in the shadow of the banister and hoping it was enough to conceal him.

The door opened, slow and cautious. Glancing around the corner of the banister, Kurtis saw a man emerge. Black hair and most certainly older than him by a few years, with a frame that was clearly post-military gone soft around the edges. He waited as the man made his way down the hall and came to a stop only a few feet away. Kurtis held his breath.

And then he remembered the cameras. Both their eyes drifted to the nearest destroyed camera, and then finally the man spotted him

Kurtis moved first, slipping out of his hiding place and pushing the man against wall with both hands on his neck. He was surprised by the strong grip that ripped them away, and far more surprised by the fist that slammed into his jaw seconds later. Kurtis stumbled away, already forming a mental push, and spun back with both hands outstretched. This took his opponent unaware and he hit the wall hard enough to dent the plaster before falling to one knee. He didn't stay down, instead rising shaky on his feet and throwing another punch. Dodging it, Kurtis pulled him by the forearm and headbutted him sharply. Both were left dazed and the fight paused.

Mouthing a silent 'ouch', Kurtis blinked away the stars in his vision before he reached for his still-dazed attacker and pinned him back against the wall. He threw one punch to the man's stomach, winding him, and then brought his head down on his knee. The fight was over.

Kurtis caught the man as he finally lost consciousness and lifted him as well as he could. He carried him into the shadow of the hall and lay him softly just inside the door before closing it and mentally easing the deadbolt into place. The man would be out cold for some time.

Kurtis took a moment to catch his breath and then continued on his path up the stairs. No cameras were visible on this level. Obviously she believed she could take care of herself.

Halfway up the short flight of stairs he heard the sound of running water. Kurtis smiled, knowing he'd found her. Turning the knob slowly, Kurtis slipped into the apartment.

X

The shower had been running for the better part of an hour and yet Lara couldn't summon the will to get out. Her sore muscles, unattended for the past week of being on the run, shook as the tension melted away from her body. Placing two hands against the wall of the shower she arched her back and let her head drop to her chest, smiling.

Hearing a creak near the door, her head flew up. "Sylvain?" she called. A full silent minute passed with no answer and she shrugged it off. Her attention turned again to the task at hand, eyes closing and brain effectively shutting down as she let herself relax entirely.

Again there was a creak at the door. She looked to the mirror that faced the door and saw, features obscured by the fogged glass, the reflection of an intruder. Lara had no time to react as the man came up beside her quickly and grabbed both wrists, pulling her away from the shower toward him. She slipped on the wet tile floor and fell into a naked heap, and this was enough for him to lose his hold on her. She crawled as best she could toward the counter where a gun was taped to the underside, but he changed position quickly, stepping into her path and pulling Lara to her feet by her arms. She instinctively tried to pull away but he had her pinned, back to his chest, water still dripping from her body and making his grip on her tenuous at best.

Lara let one foot slide between his and hooked around his ankle to bring him down, but he anticipated it and sharply kicked out the back of her right knee. She lost her balance as her leg gave out and she was hoisted up and out of the bathroom, her hands struggling to grip the doorjam. Her efforts were in vain and he dragged her along the hall to the study, and threw her roughly into the centre of the room. Some invisible force kept her flat against the floor, and shortly thereafter she felt rope at her ankles and wrists. Once she was tied and immobile the pressure on her back eased. Her attacker stepped away and she heard him pull a chair up and take a seat in it.

And this is why I never relax.

"How did you find me?" She tried to incline her head back to see his face, but he had positioned himself behind her and out of sight.

"Shut up."

"Kurtis Trent." She laughed bitterly. "Should have known you wouldn't take a hint."

A hand on her arm pulled her roughly around, turning her body just enough that she could see him take a seat once more. Clearly he didn't see any point in staying hidden if she already knew it was him. She blew a strand of sopping wet hair out of her face and self-consciously flattened both her palms in a feeble attempt to cover her naked bottom. To his credit, not once did Kurtis's eyes stray to her body; he kept his gaze trained on her face. He was smiling, but it didn't reach his eyes.

"Feels great, huh?" he murmured, eyes narrowed. "Naked, vulnerable, bound, cold."

Sore about his extended bath, then, she thought, resisting the urge to smile. Lara took in slow breaths through her nose in an attempt to control her rising temper and she stared back at him in defiance.

"This is my home, Mr. Trent. Get the hell out."

"Would have figured you for a mansion type of woman," he replied, ignoring her command. He lit a rolled cigarette and took a long, slow drag. Lara stared incredulously, wanting nothing more than to shout obscenities at him as he deliberately flicked ashes onto her floor, but she managed to bite her tongue. "So, Ms. Croft. I believe we have unfinished business."

"I could have sworn our business relationship had ended."

"Those police weren't much fun to deal with, you know. Though once they were indisposed I was finally able to heal the nasty infection you left me with after your little stunt."

She stared. "You killed them, then?"

"No." He laughed. "No, I don't kill indiscriminately to get what I need. They're probably still unconscious on the floor of the room. Tied them up, of course, and disabled any phones or radios in the area. By the time they get out there won't be any trail left to follow and they'll be back at square one."

"So how did you pick up on mine?"

"You're not the only person out there with connections. Do you realize I have the plates on that bike memorized? You practically left me a map in taking it."

She could have kicked herself for being so careless. The bike was still parked on the road outside. Once he saw that, it would have been easy to guess which building was hers.

"What comes next, Kurtis?" she asked, defeated. They shared a look, one of neither warmth nor animosity.

"I've got some questions for you."

"And you'll get no answers while you're seated up there and I'm tied down here."

He considered this for a moment. "I'll sit you in the other chair, but you stay tied."

She said nothing as Kurtis knelt, reaching for her restraints. His eyes widened slightly as he realized the ropes were loose- she'd manage to untie them. Lara's hand whipped out and gripped his neck tightly. She braced herself on her other hand and swung her knees around- still tied –to slam into his groin. Kurtis gasped and fell onto his side, immobilized. Lara quickly untied her ankles and stood, swinging a foot to kick him in the stomach; he caught her foot as it came near, but to her surprise he simply held it there.

"We're even," Kurtis groaned, still unable to do much more than lay still. "Jesus Christ, Lara, I'm not here to kill you."

"Then what are you here for?" she snapped, wrenching her foot away and stepping back.

"The same reason I didn't let you go in Prague." He got to his knees. "I want to talk. I swear to god, just talk to me and I'll leave, you won't see me again."

She backed down slightly, the adrenaline subsiding. He stayed on the floor where he was, face pleading with her to trust him. He tossed his gun and bladed disc to her feet and held his hands up in surrender. Lara eyed them, thinking, and then reached in her desk and retrieved handcuffs, which she then snapped on each of his wrists.

"Now we can talk."

X

Finally clothed and dry, with what remained of her hair now pulled back in a tight ponytail, Lara made her way back to the kitchen where Kurtis sat in silent complacence. She knew he could remove the handcuffs at any time, and yet they still dangled from his wrists. He clearly wasn't about to test the boundaries of what little trust she had.

Rummaging through the mostly bare cupboards for a few minutes, she returned to the table with a small wheel of brie and a baguette she had sliced up earlier that day. Cutting a few pieces of cheese off the wheel, she spread them on the bread and set each one in front of Kurtis. The knife she kept for herself.

"Now that I think about it," Lara said, "how did you get into the building without setting off the alarms? And where exactly is Sylvain?"

"Sleeping," Kurtis replied, fingers forming air quotations. "Assuming you mean the guy that came at me downstairs."

"I'm sure you feel quite proud of yourself, beating up a man ten years older than you."

He grinned. "The guy held his own pretty well. I'm just better."

They ate in silence, Kurtis pointedly not meeting Lara's eyes while she stared openly at him. His face seemed tired and worn, though he hid it well behind the jokes and smiles. A scar cut across his cheek, clearly an old wound, and only one mark of many. Beneath it all he was handsome, albeit in a rough sort of way.

"So where do we start?" Lara asked, clasping her hands on the table. "What do you want to know?"

Kurtis shifted in his seat uncomfortably. "Truthfully, what I most want to know is what exactly you saw in the moment your minds overlapped."

Her eyes narrowed. "How did you know about that?"

"I was watching," he replied, at least having the decency to look guilty.

"How?"

"Well, I can show you, if you'll let me." He got out of his chair and pulled it around the table as best he could with bound hands, then sat facing Lara. Both hands rested palms-up on his knees. "Take my hands."

Wary, Lara did as he said. His skin was cool, soothing where Karel's touch had been immensely painful.

"Close your eyes," he continued. She did so. "Now just relax."

A warm feeling passed over her body, and then nothing. Lara could no longer feel his hands, no longer had any sense of presence in her own body. She had become an observer in her own mind, and soon felt someone join her there. She felt a sense of panic rising.

"Relax," Kurtis breathed. Somewhere in the corner of her consciousness she could still see him seated before her, his own eyes closed and hands still cradling hers. She forced away the panic, not without some effort, and allowed him to guide her through it.

Most of the images he passed over, uninterested in the generalities of Karel's life or already far too familiar with the history the Lux Veritatis had with him. She felt dizzy as he seemingly sifted through her mind, searching intently for something.

Finally, he found what he was looking for. The memory was laid out before them, frozen in place, Karel standing over his victim with an expression of pure loathing. Lara took a moment to stare at the man knelt at Karel's feet with a nagging feeling of familiarity. The defiant smirk, the dark hair and beard…had his eyes been a cold blue he would have been a twin to Kurtis.

The scene never progressed. Kurtis let it go before it could, again searching. She had shown him all that she had seen and couldn't fathom what else he could possibly need to know- until he settled once more, this time on a tableau of snow-covered Prague. This was a memory not her own, nor one she could recall having seen. Both of them observed with equal interest as Eckhardt- no doubt actually Karel, considering it was his memory -made his way across the very square that Lara herself had stood in only days prior. He disappeared down the alley near the Vasiley Gallery, still following tracks that Lara knew well.

A fist through concrete and he was through. Karel stepped in through the entrance left by the hole. The wall was missing the telltale markings of the Monstrum that she had discovered on her way through, and the house was quiet, save gentle footsteps making their way down the stairs towards the basement.

Karel made no pretences of hiding. He stood, waiting, as Mathias Vasiley stepped into the doorway and flicked the lights on. The art dealer's eyes widened only a fraction in surprise, and then he smiled a sad, resigned smile.

"It's time, is it?" Karel said nothing, only advancing slowly on the elderly man. "I suppose I couldn't stay hidden forever, and what a shame for a father to outlive his son. Tell me, did he suffer at your hands? Or did you at least give him a quick death?"

"Oh, I assure you," Karel murmured, "he suffered greatly."

"I'd expect no less of you, Eckhardt. I'm honored you've taken the time to come yourself, to do away with one so lowly as myself. Of course, you should realize that I will tell you nothing of the shards nor the paintings."

Karel gave a biting laugh, one that seemed to throw off Vasiley's stoic calm. "Lux Veritatis, eternally trapped in the past. We intercepted your fax quite easily, Vasiley, and are already preparing to enter the crypt for the final painting. As for the shards…I have no concerns regarding those. Already one is in my hands, courtesy of your son, and it seems the remaining two will be mine shortly."

Vasiley looked pained at those words, though he tried to hide it. Finally he started to withdraw, shoulders slumped and defeated. "So I have failed."

"In more ways than one." Neither Lara nor Kurtis could see the physical change, now viewing the memory out of Karel's eyes, but they knew from the look on Vasiley's face that Karel had finally shed the guise of Eckhardt and appeared to him in his true form.

"Jehoiakim," Vasiley whispered, horrified. "You should be dead."

"I should be. Funny how that turned out. You stand here as one of the last while I am alive and well." Too late Karel realized his misstep, and at his final words Vasiley seemed hopeful once more.

"So I am not the last of mine," Vasiley said, voice stronger. "Take me then, Jehoiakim, and know that for each one of us destroyed, there is still hope."

"The boy?" Karel growled. "What misplaced hope. Your grandson is weak and untrained, uncommitted to your cause and driven by revenge. His hubris will be his downfall."

Kurtis let the memory go then, and all at once they were back in the kitchen. Kurtis had released his grip on her hands and was sitting quiet, eyes downcast. She could see the pain buried deeply there.

"Vasiley was your grandfather," she said gently.

Kurtis pressed two fingers to his eyes. "Yes."

"Your name isn't Trent at all."

"No." He let his hand drop and met her gaze. "Kurtis isn't my first name, either, but I've been Kurtis Trent for so long it's hard to imagine being anything else."

She let the matter rest out of respect. "I don't remember that particular memory. How did you find it?"

"An imprint of Karel, a trace of him, might still be with you, which would explain memories you don't recognize. They're likely buried deep." He hid a yawn behind a hand. "Telepathic links are not my area of expertise, otherwise the first one might not have gone so wrong."

"Then…Karel-"

"-never intended for your minds to overlap," Kurtis finished for her. "That was my own stupid mistake. Though I think it probably saved you from making an equally stupid mistake."

They fell silent again, staring at each other with challenging eyes. A thought came unbidden into her head, of a rough hand slipping across her body while the cool metal of a gun barrel pressed hard against her neck. A blush crept over her cheeks and she broke the stare first.

"Is this where you ask me to trust you?"

Kurtis shook his head. "No. We've both gone a bit too far to be asking that, I think."

Some small mercy prompted her to unlock the handcuffs. Kurtis started as they hit the floor with a dull thud. "I am going to take a gamble on you," Lara told him, voice firm and cold, "and if you do anything to betray the tentative trust I'm placing in you, I will put a bullet between your eyes. Are we clear?"

"Crystal," he said, rubbing his sore wrists.

"You can spend the night. We've both had a rough week, I think, and you look dead on your feet. But I want you out by tomorrow night. As far as I'm concerned, this whole business is now over."

Kurtis nodded. He looked relieved, all the fight out of him at the thought of a good night's rest and full meals. Leading him down the hall, Lara gestured into the study, where he immediately set to work arranging the chairs in such a way that he could sleep stretched out between them. As an afterthought, he pulled the drapes closed and shadow took over the room. Lara immediately took a step back, into the comfort of the lit hallway, but he was preoccupied enough not to notice.

"I'll be back," she told him, turning to leave. "Best check on my friend that you roughed up." He waved her away, already drifting off in his makeshift bed.