A/N: Hey all! So sorry this chapter was a bit late. I had a slew of exams to get through but updates will be coming more frequently, I assure you. To make up for my absence, I've made this one really long! A little side note, the checklist/questionnaire in the therapist's office are questions taken from an actual counselling centre that I used to attend, so yes, those are real questions that come up on a self-assessment. Also, I don't really know much about computer hacking so most of that section is researched but I'm unsure if it's nonsense or not :P Please remember to leave a review if you like or don't like it. All the feedback helps. Enjoy! :)


Reyes' Cabin - Washington D.C, The United States of America

It's been three weeks since the funeral.

Lara doesn't say much. Hell, you don't even see her bare for when she goes to sleep beside you at night or sometimes in the morning, if you can manage to catch her for some breakfast. She's constantly wrapped up in her books and her computer, scrounging around for as much information as she can about Allistair and the lost relics. You know that she's driven herself crazy trying to get to the bottom of this, to uncover the truth behind everything and anything she can. You're surprised she's not started bringing up Illuminati confirmations with all her digging.

Your relationship has taken a strain from the effects, but you know better than to ask her to stop. Lara's impulsive like she'd been in college. Usually, she thinks with a straight head, but after coming back from Yamatai, you don't know if she's even sane. You want to help her, and you do, but all the information you find are about things she already knows. She's quicker on her feet, proactive, and diligent. She knows where to look, how to extrapolate information, and though being technologically inept as she is, she still manages to find sources on the internet quicker than you can.

The only good thing to come of all this has been Lara's undisturbed recovery. Being cooped up in the cabin has prevented her from any crazy movements that would risk further injury. Just a few days ago, she took off the bandage around her midsection to reveal a scarred, but luckily fully-closed stomach. The scar is the nastiest one on her body thus far, looking like an shrapnel explosion upon her torso, but it's better than the infected mess you had to deal with in Japan. Most of her bruises have yellowed off and her smaller cuts have healed. Your own injuries are gone, but the there's still a hue of blue paint upon your arms and legs that you believe will stick with you forever. The understanding of it hurts you, to know that no matter how hard you try to erase those events out of your mind, you won't be able to do it. The lingering whispers will never fade. The pain will continue like a throbbing ache in the back of your mind.

After the memorial service of Grim, Alex, and Roth, you'd been talking to one of Alex's family friends, who'd suggested you to see a psychologist that had received high accolades from the community. She'd given you the card with a solemn expression, nodding her head as if to say that she understood the troubles of seeking professional help for an emotional problem. You didn't mention it to Lara, because you knew how she'd react. Back in Japan she'd been adamant on not wanting to talk to a psychologist, claiming that they didn't understand or that they would judge her for what she did on the island. You'd kept the card in your wallet, and to this day, it still burned a hole in the material.

You're currently in the bedroom, looking at it between your fingers. You flip the card over and under your slender fingers, creasing your brows as if you're tempted to call it. That's the thing, though. You are tempted to call it. Fuck, you want to call the number. You're sick of panic attacks and cold sweats. You're sick of waking up to Lara screaming like a banshee. You're sick of fearing for your life as she bats you away in her delirious states, swearing and pushing at you to get away from her. You're sick of the dead weight upon your chest as you know that there's a gun right below your mattress, waiting for Lara to use. Lara's not a killer, but she has killed. You have to remind yourself that.

You feel bad for even thinking about it. Your girlfriend is no murderer, but after the events that had occurred on that island, she's no saint either. You can't take her in public without having to diffuse a potentially life-threatening situation. People overwhelm her and she becomes defensive. It's like Yamatai put a permanent kill-switch in her brain to revert to whenever she feels threatened. She changes, as if she were a werewolf under the influence of a full moon. Except this time, her full moon consists of large, bustling crowds and sudden, loud noises. There had been one time when someone accidentally brushed her shoulder at the grocery store and she'd damned near torn the man's throat out. You'd been lucky enough to have wedged yourself between her, placing your palms on her heaving chest in order to make sure that she saw your face. The man had skittered away as she'd stared him down with fiery hazel eyes and tightly clenched fists. You'd ducked her head into your neck and wrapped your arms around her to assure her that she was not back there.

That's not the worst of it, though. The worst is the bickering. You and Lara will lash out at each other over the smallest things. It's a result of poor sleep, poor mental health, pressure, and horrid memories. You're both suffering, but you're unable to help each other. At the end of the day, all of this constant fighting takes a toll on you, too. You feel the aching in your bones, a dull prod at your sanity. You feel restless and insecure. Your mind is a hyperactive, sleep-deprived, malfunctioning cog in the machine that is your brain. Information doesn't get retained, your calculations are getting slower, and you're losing the ability to think on your feet. Everything is changing all around you and you can't keep up. You feel like you're drowning and burning at the same time and no matter how hard you try, everything creeps up on you.

One day, it will bring you under for good.

"Sam?" Lara's voice sounds from the hallway. You swallow thickly to nod your head up at her. She looks fucking exhausted, wearing nothing but a tattered pair of sweats pushed up to her shins, a ripped band t-shirt, and her hair up in a messy ponytail. You swallow again and nod, your eyes glancing at her scars through holes in the shirt.

"Yeah?" You ask, rising stiffly from the bed, the card still clutched tightly in your hand. Lara goes to ask you a question, but she sees the card first. She eyes it carefully, biting her lip in apprehension.

"What's that?" She asks hesitantly as you approach her. You look at the card and sigh, before looking back your girlfriend with an empty gaze.

"The card for Karen's psychologist," you murmur, glancing away from her eyes as you see them shift from warm and open to cold and guarded. Lara looks to the card with a stern glare.

"We don't need a psychologist," she mutters, shaking her head. You snap your chin upwards, your fingers itching to curl into a fist. Something inside you snaps and you have the sudden urge to take your fist and slam it into her stubborn head. You cringe inwardly at the realization that maybe you've become slightly monstrous, too.

"We?!" You snarl at her in a low hiss with more fury than intended. You can't control the words that spill from your cracked lips. "We don't need a psychologist, Lara?! We're one person now, are we?" You shake your head at her, biting back the rising anger in your chest. Lara's left brow raises as she cocks her head in confusion.

"Sam?" She asks, reluctant for an answer. You look at the card, the number staring at you from the small piece of thick paper. Himiko's voice scatters aimlessly in your ear as you try to think straight. Your hands begin to shake as you nod your head, tears brimming in your eyes.

"I want to talk to him, Lara," you whisper, unable to look at her. You shouldn't have to do this. You shouldn't have to feel insecure about wanting help, but you feel that way, regardless.

"Why?" Lara asks, sounding genuinely puzzled. You almost want to hit her again. You shudder as you hear Himiko goading you on to do it, to destroy her. You glance down to your arms, expecting to see blue as you had three weeks ago, but they are bare of any glow. You suck in a deep breath and close your eyes.

"Because, Lara," you breathe softly, suppressing your anger for grief as you look up at her, "I can't keep up anymore. It's killing me on the inside to keep this all hidden. I'm not silent and brooding like you are. I need to talk." Lara furrows her brows as she takes a step towards you.

"You can talk to me, Sam," she says, sounding hurt. You know that what you're about say next is going to hurt more than any wound she'd endured on Yamatai. Even more than her death, itself.

"That's the thing, Lara," you say softly, reaching up to cup her cheek, "I can't."

/

You twiddle your thumbs as Lara pulls the car up to the sterile building. The tires roll to a stop against the gravel as she cuts the engine. You both sit in silence, anticipating the worst. You fold your hands in your lap and sigh before you look to your watch. You have ten minutes before your appointment. You feel nauseous and relieved at the same time. You just want to get better. You shift your glance to Lara, who isn't even looking at you, but out the window. Something stings at your heart as you bow your head, feeling guilty.

"It's not too late, you know," you whisper softly, swallowing your nerves, "I'm sure Dr Fitzgerald wouldn't mind if you joined the session with me. It could do you some good to talk about it." Lara stiffens and lets loose a low growl. You wince and grind your teeth, wishing you could have retracted your words.

"I told you, Sam, I don't want to talk to a fucking therapist. I have nothing to talk about," she mutters in a low hiss, still avoiding your gaze. She has her eyes glued to the building, as if she were assessing it for danger.

"Lara, there's no shame in getting help." Lara grips the steering wheel tighter. You bite your lip and sigh, shaking your head. You think about a different approach, but you know that it will lead to the same answer. Lara's fingernails grip the plastic of the steering wheel with white knuckles.

"I'm not ashamed, Sam," she spits bitterly, "I just don't want to talk to him. I'm not questioning you, so don't fucking question me." You feel rage burble up inside your chest as you reach out, involuntarily grabbing at her arm to get her attention. Lara's head whips around to face you, her gaze steely and cold. You nearly gasp out of fear, but your anger fuels the adrenalin in your veins. You grip her skin tightly, pulling on her arm again.

"Lara, I'm not fucking trying to hurt you!" You snarl, letting go of her arm. Her expression doesn't change as you shake your head in disbelief. "You're blocking me out and making me your enemy, Lara. I'm your best friend, your girlfriend, for fuck's sake! You can't do that! You can't just shut me out and pretend like I don't exist. Can't you see that this is tearing us apart?!" You watch as Lara's eyes flash and a new emotion is present in her hazel depths.

Shit.

"Are you blaming me for our fighting, Sam?" The way she says your name makes you want to throttle her. Stop it, Sam, your conscious scolds you, this isn't the right way to fix this. Lara's voice is hurt, beyond pained that's for sure, but you can't keep running in circles. You sigh, taking a deep breath to calm your anger before you turn to face her.

"No, Lara, I'm not blaming you for anything," you murmur, closing your eyes. You're so tired of this. You know that you said you'd stay by her side and keep strong for her, but you don't know how much more you can take. Lara chews her lip as she cocks her head away from yours.

"Sure as bloody hell sounds like it," she grumbles, rubbing her jaw in frustration. You look back at the clock and open your door, unable to fight with her any longer. Lara doesn't stop you, but you pause before you leave the car.

"Lara, listen to me," you say in a quiet voice, "I love you. I do, but this is getting out of hand. It's been more than three months since we've left that place and you've been nothing short of incorrigible. You've changed, and it's not for the better." Lara turns her head to face you again, a scowl painted across her lips as she crosses her arms.

"Like I could have stayed the same? You're a hypocrite, Sam. You're just as different," she quips back, her voice sharp. You sigh, bowing your head as your hand trembles upon the door frame.

"You don't understand, Lara," you murmur absently as you gaze back up at her, "you're not the same person that I became friends with. You're not the person that I'd fallen in love with. Your nightmares consume you. The secrets eat you alive. You're careening off the edge of sane. I just want you to be okay again. I'm not asking you to do this because I want to make you feel small or petty. I'm asking you because I want us both to be happy."

"Who said I'm not happy?" Lara snaps, but you give her a blank look. You close the door and lean in through the open window, your gaze locking with hers.

"Are you?" You ask, your tone quiet but lethal. Lara doesn't respond. She swallows thickly and averts your gaze as she looks to the clock. She ignores your question as she distracts herself with gripping the steering wheel tightly.

"You'd better get going or else you're going to be late," she mumbles in a low snap, reaching for the keys. She powers on the car and you shake your head, walking away from her. You open the door to the building as you watch her speed away in the jeep. You sigh bitterly as you walk towards the office and take a seat in the reception area. The assistant tells you that the doctor will be there in a moment.

"In the mean time, please fill out this self-assessment," the woman instructs in a kind voice, "this will help the doctor focus his attention on the key parts of whatever problems you are facing."

You nod your head distantly, your head still trapped in your argument with Lara. You slowly take the clipboard from her, staring at the questions with tired eyes. You suddenly wonder if Lara had been right. Maybe therapy wasn't the right way to deal with your anxieties. You grit your teeth and force yourself to stop thinking about Lara for a moment and instead focus on the questionnaire. You grip the pencil in your hand tightly as you read over the questions. The first section is straight forward, asking to rate your emotions on a daily basis. You do cringe slightly when you see that your number responses are on the high side. You finish up the portion on your feelings before moving to the next part, which is far more tricky. The first question stumps you from the get go, sending shivers crawling up your spine.

Have you ever felt as though your life were in danger?

Yes.

Do you feel safe in your own home?

Somewhat.

Do you have a good, open relationship with your partner, family, or friends?

Somewhat.

Do you experience nightmares, sleepwalking, or flashbacks?

Yes.

If so, please list a few examples of what you see in these events.

Being tied up, the screaming of Mathias' men and Himiko, the burning of the monastery, the helicopter exploding, Roth's cremation on the mountain top, the possession, Lara's death.

On a scale of one to ten, with ten being a few times a week, how often do you experience episodes of panic or anxiety?

Ten.

One a scale of one to ten, with ten being unbearable, how would you rate your attacks?

Ten.

What do you fear the most in your life at the moment?

Losing Lara or watching her destroy herself.

Have you ever attempted suicide?

No.

Have you ever considered attempting suicide before?

No.

Are you currently suicidal?

I don't know.

Have you ever experienced loss?

Yes.

Have you ever seen a dead body? Open casket funerals do not count.

Yes.

Have you ever been abused emotionally, physically, or sexually?

Yes.

If so, which one(s)? Describe in short the details of the experience(s).

"Ma'am?" You hear the assistant's voice calling. You look up to see that she's looking at you with a concerned gaze. You can feel tears streaming down your face and your chest heaving. You look around the room to see that a few of the other people have started to look at you.

"S-Sorry, what did you say?" You ask, your voice trembling. The woman looks to your clipboard, and then back up at you with a worried glance.

"You're shaking and breathing quickly, is everything okay?" She asks soothingly, kneeling in front of you. You look to see your entire body quivering. You swallow, your mouth dry and sore as you nod your head shallowly. You bow your head and close your eyes, only to be faced with the constant shouting and humiliating cries of those men from the island.

"It's hard," you breathe out, opening your eyes to look back at the woman, "these questions… they bring up bad memories, and I just… I'm sorry. I… I'm sorry." The nurse gives you a sympathetic nod, reaching for the clipboard and prying it from your hands.

"It's quite normal, ma'am, I assure you. Here, the room is ready for you. Why don't I take you there so you can get settled in?" She asks, reaching out to squeeze your bobbing knee. You feel like a child for moment as she gives you an encouraging nod. You sigh and stand up stiffly, waiting for to return the clipboard to the main desk before returning.

It takes a moment or two before the assistant leads you into a room, warmly telling you to make yourself comfortable while the doctor finishes up with his other patient. You hesitantly sit on the couch, glancing around at the various certificates and accolades he'd received. There are mountains of books lining the shelves behind his desk. You find yourself staring at a picture of him and his family. He looks fairly young for a psychologist. You look at his two kids, a boy and a girl, and his wife, all staring back at you with warm smiles. Sadness creeps up on you as you realize that you're never going to have a normal family or life like he does.

The knock on the door startles you from your thoughts as you stiffen. Dr Fitzgerald opens the door and tosses you a welcoming smile. He's tall, broad shouldered, has a perfect set of teeth and dazzling blue eyes. His short, neatly cropped hair is a shade lighter than Lara's, and his stubbled jaw is angled as if chiseled from stone by Gods themselves. You watch as he enters the room and stands in front of you. You quickly rise to your feet and reach out, shaking his extended hand.

"Ms Nishimura, pleasure to meet you. My name is Dr David Fitzgerald, but you can call me David," he introduces himself with a friendly tone. His voice is smooth and deep, like velvet.

"S-Sam," you stutter nervously, retracting your hand, "you can call me Sam." David nods his head as you both take a seat. You suddenly feel more relaxed as you look into his eyes.

"So, I'm not going to beat around the bush, Sam," he says gently, your name rolling off his tongue easily. You suck in a deep breath as you shudder when he looks at your shaking hands.

"I've been keeping up with the news. It's a remarkable story. Tragic, but remarkable," he says in a softer voice, noting your discomfort. You squirm in your seat, feeling a bit nervous again.

"It was…," you struggle to find the right word, "hard… to deal with. It, uh, still is hard to deal with." You scrunch your brows at your inability to talk in full sentences. David nods, reaching for the clipboard upon his desk. He flips through the questionnaire you'd just filled out and nods his head every now and again, before setting it down on his desk.

"You've been through quite the ordeal, Sam," he says in a gentle coo, "I can imagine it being it tough. I won't jump right into the events. Instead, I want you to talk. It can be about anything. Tell me about yourself, your hobbies, anything. I want to know more about you, Sam." You gulp as you try to think about his proposition. David waits patiently, an encouraging smile tugging on his lips.

"Well, I, uh, graduated from UCL. I have my Bachelor's in Arts & Science, with a major in filmography and a combined minor in mathematics and economics," you say, wringing your hands together. David nods smiling again to prod you into continuing your introduction. You clear your throat and adjust your self upon the seat. You rifle through your brain, trying to find some decent information. God, you think, you can't even remember basic information about yourself.

Who even are you?

"I'm an only child of Portuguese and Japanese descent, but I grew up in America. I wasn't ever in one place at once, as we moved quite a bit. My family's got estate in almost every continent, so we'd be on the move constantly. My mom travelled a lot and my dad is the CEO of a multi-media corporation," you say, taking a deep breath. David watches in silence, wanting more. Think, Sam, you chide yourself, what else is there that's even remotely interesting about you? Suddenly, you remember something as you nod your head up. "My dad taught me to play chess, and for awhile when I was younger, I used to play for leagues and stuff. I'm still pretty good at it, actually." David raises his brow.

"Would you fancy a match?" He asks. You frown, cocking your head to the side in confusion. A match? Of chess? Now? He chuckles warmly as he stands up and reaches for a small box at the shelves. He blows the dust off and opens it up, bringing out the chess board and the pieces. He smiles at your surprised expression.

"Um, no disrespect or anything, Doc, but aren't we supposed to be doing counselling related things?" You ask, bewildered as he pulls up the table in front of you, setting the board down. "I mean, shouldn't you be asking me about my feelings or the reason why I'm here?"

"I know why you're here, Sam," he says, setting up the pieces as he glances up at you. He leans back in the chair as he watches you with a knowing gaze.

"You're here because you're lost. You're struggling to find yourself. After traumatic experiences like this, we lose the essence of who we really are, or in your case, once were," he says in a calm, steady voice. He straightens his tie and points to the board.

"I won't be able to help you through interrogations. You already received that from multiple police sources. I won't be able to help you through an interview, because you're not ready to relive past memories so quickly," he continues, pausing before quietly adding, "my assistant told me of what happened in the waiting room." You flinch and blush, ducking your head in shame and embarrassment as you avoid his gaze.

"Sorry about that," you mutter softly, but David shakes his head, leaning forward. He folds his hands in his lap as he gives you a small, encouraging smile.

"Please, Sam, you mustn't apologize. In fact, I'd rather not have you go through that again. These kinds of pains are different. They're intricate. I'm here to help you get through this. I know that my ways may seem strange to you. Maybe it's not the most conventional way of dealing with your experiences, but it's safer than diving head first into your trauma." You digest his words for a few seconds before you look down at the board. You still seem unsure, so he smiles again, pointing to the chessboard, nodding his head.

"Think of it as testing the waters," he says gently, "it's like we're experimenting with what you are able to take and what you aren't. The chess is played for a distraction. If you can focus parts of your brain elsewhere, getting to the core of your problems might be easier. If it doesn't work, we can put it away and try something else. How does that sound?" You still seem hesitant, but you mull over his words and understand that it might be a better alternative approach.

"Okay," you murmur, sighing as you reach for the pawn, "but I'm a little rusty, I'll warn you in advance." David smiles again as you make the first move. He moves his own pawn forward as a quick response.

"It's no worries, Sam," he says softly as you move your pawn again. "I've not played since my junior year of high school. You may be able to win in the first eight or so moves." You watch his response, his pawn directly diagonal to yours. You don't rise to the bait however. Instead, move another pawn. David raises his brow in surprise and takes your piece with a quick motion, seeming satisfied with his decision.

"You know," you mumble as you move another pawn, "my dad would always tell me how quickly people get excited by taking the first pawn. He used to tell me, Sam, you mustn't ever let your confidence take away your knowledge of the game. Chess isn't about who wins the fastest way, it's about who wins the smartest way." David pauses as he sees another pawn, letting your words sink in. He resists the urge to take your piece and instead moves his knight.

"Are you close with your father?" He asks absently as you take his pawn. You shrug.

"Depends on your definition of close," you say quietly, glancing back up at him. You watch as David's eyes narrow slightly as he leans back.

"Do you talk much?"

"We used to," you say, running your fingers over the pawn in your hand, liking the feel of how the cold stone grounds you and makes you feel safe, "but after I signed on the deal for the expedition in Japan, he had been distant. He wasn't too fond of me using my uncle's money to fund it, nor was he happy that I was going to be part of Whitman's production team as the primary camerawoman and director." David moves his knight again, closer to your pawns.

"Why is that?" He asks as you find an opening between his pawns and the king. You look to the board and strategically plan your next move. You take one of his pawns as you clear your throat.

"His company rivalled the one that funded Whitman's World. He… he had tried to warn me about getting involved with them, but I didn't listen. I… I should have listened," you whisper, your voice cracking as you remember how disappointed and frustrated he'd been with you. Remorse tugs at your heartstrings as you remembered how worried he'd been at the hospital. You watch as David falls for your bait, taking a pawn but leaving his king exposed.

"I made a choice," you say as you move your queen and place him in a check. David's eyes widen as he realizes how quickly you've managed to throw him into a corner. He struggles to find a solution, but there is none.

It's over, you won.

"Seems you did," he says in a distant voice, impressed at how quickly you'd beat him. He nods his head up to you before he looks back to the chess board with a slight smile.

"Five moves on the first go? Not bad," he says, and you duck your head, flushing slightly.

"Thanks," you mumble, rubbing the back of your head as you watch him reset the board. He sits back and nods at you with a smile. You look back to the chessboard and bite your lip. David pauses as he waits for you to speak, but no words come out. He realizes that you're unsure and clears his throat gently, drawing your attention back to him.

"What do you want to talk about next?" He asks softly. You have so many things you want to address, but you choke up on the serious ones. You keep flashing back to Lara, to your arguments, her nightmares, the relationship that hangs on by a thread.

"My girlfriend," you murmur as you slide a pawn forward. "I want to talk about Lara."

"College best friends turned lovers, right?" He asks as he moves his own pawn, a little more hesitantly than he'd done before. You flinch and he stiffens, ducking his head sheepishly.

"Tabloids, my bad," he apologizes curtly as you take the next move. You sigh and shrug before you lean back. Your stomach has long settled since arriving, and you feel more at ease.

"It's a weird way to put it, but yes, that's the gist of it. Lara and I knew each other for about a decade before we realized our true feelings for each other," you say quietly, a small, bittersweet smile forming upon your lips as you reminisce over the memories.

"And you've been together ever since returning from Japan?" He asks softy as he reaches for your pawn with his own. You run the calculations in your mind, trying to figure out his plan.

"Yeah, but it's not… it's, just, well, complicated."

"Complicated?"

"She's distant. She went through shit on that awful place, but we all did. She doesn't let me in. Hell, she'd been hesitant towards even letting me come see you," you explain, choosing your words carefully. This information sparks a reaction in David as he raises his brow.

"Hesitant? Did she disapprove of your choice to start therapy?" He asks, his voice taut. You stiffen, feeling sadness wash over you. The words don't come out but the tears do. David notices and stays quiet, allowing you to take your time. You sigh and nod your head, unable to speak.

"She could be scared. It's a common defence mechanism to shut down help, especially therapy. There's common misconception that by seeking therapy, one could be considered weak. From what I've read, and correct me if I'm wrong, Lara doesn't want to be seen as weak. It's not often that you save a group of people single-handedly from a supposedly cursed island." You flinch at his words, mainly because there's an unjustly amount of truth to them.

"Lara's… she's not, well…, stable I guess," you stumble, trying to find an answer as you look at the chessboard. Your chest tightens as you close your eyes, thinking of your girlfriend.

"She's just… she's got a lot of things on her plate. We don't always see eye to eye, which sucks because before, we used to. We were basically on each other's frequency. I… I miss that. I miss being able to tell what she's thinking. She's blocking me out now." David nods as you lean back into the couch, wishing desperately for it to swallow you whole.

"Does Lara know how you feel?" You nod your head, before you pause and furrow your brow. You scratch your head as you sigh deeply, thinking deeper into the question. David leans forward, intrigued by your response. You close your eyes again as you see her face flash before you, full of rage and fear.

"I've told her, but I don't think that I'm getting through to her. She's… she's still back there on that island and she's not fighting to free herself from it. She's sinking and I don't know how to help her. I… I can't lose her. She's all that I have." The confession urges the smallest of sobs from your lips as you curl a hand over your mouth. David remains calm and steady as you begin to cry, only moving so that he can offer you the tissue box.

"Lara's so hollow. I feel her pain and I want to take all of it away but I can't. It's killing me that I can't help her. I know she loves me, and I know she feels terrible when we fight, but she's letting those memories control her. She's losing the essence of who she is, and I want to help her get that back. I need my Lara back, David," you breathe out, shaking your head as you open your eyes and look to him, only to see him giving you a supporting gaze.

"Then that's what we'll work on first," he tells you supportively as he moves his pawn, "getting Lara back."

/

"So, how was it?"

It's been a car ride full with silence, up until this point when Lara finally decided to ask you a question. You shift in your seat as you see her face glued to the windscreen. Her tone is neither hostile nor encouraging, but neutral. You take some happiness in that, despite wanting more. Lara's throat bobs as she pulls the car to a stop when she hits a red light. You pull your knees up to your chest in the small space to make yourself tinier than what you actually are.

"Good," you say truthfully, turning your head to watch the falling raindrops against the window. You reach out and trace them with your fingers, watching them disappear into nothingness.

"Good?" She echoes, her eyes trained on the road ahead. You nod, shifting in your seat.

"I feel better, being able to talk to someone." You try to ignore the fact that you saw Lara flinch at your comment and instead push on to say, "it was also good to get out of the house. I think being cooped up in there was what was really getting to me." Lara's quiet for a few moments, processing all of what you've told her. You hold your breath as you wait for her response. Your gaze flickers to the clock as you watch her sigh deeply.

"That's… that's good, Sam," she whispers hoarsely, tears brimming in her eyes. You can feel the hurt and betrayal radiating off of her in waves. You sigh as you shift in your seat to face her.

"It's not that I don't want to talk to you, Lara, because I do, and this is why I'm seeking help," you start to say, wincing as you see her shoulders tense up, "I need to talk about some things, and parts of those things I'm not ready to share with you yet because I can't wrap my own mind around them. I trust you, Lara, but I don't trust the… other side of you."

"Other side?" She repeats with a slight edge to her voice, pushing her foot down on the accelerator pedal lightly as the green light clickers on ahead. You nod, your eyes ghosting over the exposed scars upon her arms.

"You know what I'm talking about, Lara." Your voice is not cold or hostile, but informative. Lara's back straightens for a moment before she sucks in a deep breath and bites her lip. She looks ready to fight you, but she soon dips her head.

"Yeah," she chokes out bitterly in a defeated tone. The reluctance to admitting you're right is evident in her voice as she speaks again, "I do." You swallow nervously as you tentatively reach out for the one hand that dangles by the gearbox. Your fingers loop between hers and you squeeze her hand lightly.

"He's really nice, you know," you murmur absently, remembering how patient and understanding David had been with you. "He's not like a typical psychologist. He's good. He listens instead of talking and asking questions. Hell, we even managed to play a few games of chess. I schooled his ass each game."

"Chess?" Lara asks incredulously, raising her brow in confusion. "What kind of psychologist plays chess? If you were looking for a match you could've asked me, you know."

"Firstly, he brought it up, not me, and secondly, I love you to bits babe, but you're terrible at chess," you murmur with a faint chuckle. You make out a small smirk on Lara's face as she shakes her head in disagreement. You chortle a bit louder now at her denial.

"I am not terrible, I just am… unsure and overthink my moves," she tries to refute your claim, but she knows that you're right. You lean up and kiss her cheek, causing her to blush.

"Not all your moves," you mumble in a soft voice as you sit back down. Lara looks over at you curiously, but you shake your head as the innuendo goes over her head. You sit in silence for a few moments longer before you reach the street that turns off towards the dirt trail where the cabin is located.

"So… are you planning on going back?" Lara asks as she turns the jeep down onto the track. You mull over her question before you nod, saying in a quiet voice, "yeah. I need to, I think."

"Mm," Lara mumbles, but she doesn't sound disappointed or hurt. You go to remove your hand, thinking that she's upset, but her fingers squeeze yours, jolting you from your memories.

"Lara?" You ask as Lara approaches the cabin. She rolls the jeep forward until it's parked outside the shed. She powers off the car and sighs before turning to face you with a solemn expression.

"You were right about before, you know," she mumbles dejectedly, looking to the gearbox, "about me being different. I know that you're hurting, and I'm sorry for continually shutting you down." You watch as her breath hitches as she pauses, her brows knitting together as she struggles to figure out the mess inside her own head. You squeeze her hand supportively and she grunts in appreciation.

"Look," she says finally, glancing back up at you, "what I'm trying to say is that I want you to be okay. I want you to get help, and if this helps you, then so be it. I will support you as best I can." You smile at her kind words as you lean up and kiss her cheek again, rewarding yourself with another blush from Lara. Your girlfriend sighs as she looks to your clasped hands.

"Just… you know that you can tell me anything, right? I'm always here, Sam. I know I'm not in the best place right now, and I know that I can be unpredictable at times, but I do love you. I want this to work between us. The fighting hurts so bad," Lara whimpers as she squeezes your hand again, gently pulling you closer. You breathe out a gentle gasp as she leans forward to peck your forehead with a soft kiss. You shudder at the contact and Lara sniffles.

"Are you sure you don't want to try therapy?" You ask her as she pulls away. Lara releases your hand slowly as she nods her head, looking away from you. You sigh deeply as you reach out, curling one of her bangs behind her ear as she closes her eyes.

"Okay," you murmur, hiding the defeat in your words, "you respected my decision, and I'll respect yours. Just… please take care of yourself, especially with all this corporate stuff. We're not ready for another big adventure, okay? You're not ready for it, especially." Lara licks her lips and hesitates, but nods reluctantly at your request.

"I'm not going to stop looking," she says, but glances up to give you a reassuring glance, "but I won't do anything too dangerous." There's a bit of cloudiness in her eyes as she says the words, but you nod your head and believe her, too tired to do anything else.

"Come," you tell her gently, "let's make some dinner."

/

It's been two weeks since you started therapy.

You haven't really talked about anything too horrifying yet. It's mainly just topics relating to your relationship with Lara, your father and mother, and a few of your lighter flashbacks. David keeps assuring you that you don't need to push yourself to relive the darker memories until you're ready to confront them. At first you didn't understand, because you had horrid flashbacks nearly every week, but when you'd tried to tell David about it, you got stuck. You nearly had a panic attack just thinking about explaining the events. You remind yourself to take it a day at a time.

Lara still refuses to join you, but she doesn't seem to be hostile about the idea of therapy anymore. She drops you off and lets you go with a kiss to your cheek each time. You know that she's still neck deep in her research despite how much she tells you that she's not doing anything to jeopardize either of your safeties. You keep telling yourself that she'll find an end soon enough, but there's always one more discovery, one more report, one more news clipping. There's one more everything and it's becoming an infinite chain. Lara's drowning but pushes away help.

You've just got to keep her afloat for as long as you can.

"Dammit!" You hear Lara scowl, breaking you from your thoughts. You walk to the den and find Lara standing, hunched over her computer with a frown on her face. You set the cup of tea you'd been holding down on the table and place a delicate hand upon her tense shoulder.

"Babe, what's the matter?" You ask softly, rubbing her shoulder. Lara shakes her head and tears herself away from your hand, reaching again for her computer. She clicks on the mousepad, but the screen is black. She swears under her breath as she throws her hands up in frustration.

"The bloody thing just stopped on me!" She snarls, crossing her arms as if she were a child throwing a tantrum. You stand by in silence, thinking it would be better if she just vented it off on her own.

"I spent hours trying to find that information on the assortment of militaries Brown is paying off with weapons research," she starts in a low growl, before she waves to the computer, "before the damned blighter decided it would be a great idea to shut down. Fuck me, Sam. This is ridiculous. How can I find out what's gone on with those relics if I can't even get into my own damned laptop?!" She takes a breath, wincing only slightly. You sigh, stepping forward to intervene.

"Lara, take a deep breath," you say softly, reaching for her shoulder. Lara whips your hand away and glares at you. The fire in her eyes is smouldering, but you don't wither under the glance. She grits her teeth as she bites her lip, hard. You watch as she licks at the small drop of crimson.

"Look, let me have a good look at it, okay? Maybe it's something to do with the hardware," you mumble softly, side-stepping her and approaching the computer. You fiddle with it for a bit, before you remember a few things Alex had taught you about jumpstarting a laptop.

It takes a few moments, and a few more disgruntled noises from Lara behind you, before you finally hear that characteristic noise of the laptop awakening. You smile proudly as you step away and allow it the chance to reboot. The screen comes up normally, and Lara grumbles something under her breath. You stare at her with a smirk and she looks away, flushing. She runs a hand through her hair as she watches the blue screen load up the desktop.

"You're welcome, sweetheart," you say with a twinge of playful sarcasm. Lara mutters something incoherent, but you lean in, putting a hand to your ear for dramatic effect.

"What was that? I couldn't hear you over my quick wit," you say with a tease. Lara turns to you and eyes your lips, and then your eyes, before settling back on your lips. She swallows nervously, and you smile.

"Thanks," she chokes out, turning her face back to the screen. You stroke her hair before placing a kiss at the top of her head. Before you turn to leave, you notice something strange on the computer that you hadn't seen yesterday or the days before. You lean over Lara's shoulder, peering at the screen in curiousness.

"Lara, how long have you been on the computer today?" You ask as you look to the small little icon in the bottom corner of the screen. Lara shrugs, looking to her watch nonchalantly.

"Five hours, maybe six. Why?" You gulp as you pull the computer closer to yourself. You click on the small icon and feel your heart stop beating. You freeze for a moment as you stare at it.

"Shit," you mutter, quickly bringing up the settings panel. You fly through the different options as you try to search for the firewall settings. You find the link and open it, typing in the password to enter the security system. Lara picks up on what you're doing and leans forward.

"Sam?" She speaks in a quiet, trembling voice as you run a diagnostics test through the security. At first, the program starts up, but then it freezes. Error messages start popping up left, right, and centre as if you'd set off a bomb. You swear again as you watch the red text fill the screen. You try to think back to what Alex had taught you and instantly act on your feet. You immediately go to the task manager toolbar, but as soon as you click on it, another error pops up. You squint at the screen as you read the message in horror.

Task Manger is disabled.

"Disabled? How?" You breathe out, typing away furiously at the keyboard. Nothing works. Red error messages are continually filling your screen now. Lara's whimpering from behind you. You try going through the script writer to see if you can manually shut down whatever's happening, but the computer is stuck. You swear again as the error messages don't stop popping up.

"What the hell were you looking at, Lara?!" You say between clenched teeth as you try to fight back the computer. You're inputting different codes and kill switches Alex had taught you, but nothing's working. You slam your palm down on the table as you watch the computer bug out.

The screen suddenly freezes, and a shiver passes through your body. You watch the mouse move, but you look to see that your hand is not the cause of it. You retract your fingers and watch in horror as the computer starts doing things on its own. The mouse clicks on the Task Manager and exits it, before exiting out of firewall you'd been trying to access. It then goes over the folder with Lara's documents and files. It clicks on it and opens it up. You look to the bottom of the screen to see a message pop up. Your eyes widen in horror as you read the small text.

Copying items 1 out of 45 to mobile platform.

"They're in the system," you choke out, frantically trying to power down the computer, "Lara, we're being hacked!" This brings Lara out of the frozen state she'd been in previously.

"I have information on there from Yamatai!" She says in a heightened voice, her hands reaching out for the computer. You're inputting more commands, but the mouse is moving on its own accord. You press down on the main power button and flip the screen down and then up again, but even that doesn't work. You look back down at the small message near the icon and gulp nervously.

Copying items 28 out of 45 to mobile platform.

"Shit, those files have reports of the possession, of the Solarii, the Oni, Himiko, Mathias. It's got everything I've researched thus far on Allistair Brown and Brown Corporations, too," Lara lists in a rush, worry filling her voice. You can only watch in silence as the computer responds to the hacker. Lara tries to slam her fingers down on the keyboard in a fruitless attempt to break the trance set, but you know that it's no use. Whoever is taking those documents is not letting up. Lara lets out a muffled growl as she is helpless to protecting her work. You both watch in horror as the numbers fill the screen until there's one final beep. You read the message, defeated.

Download complete. 45 out of 45 items transferred successfully to mobile platform.

"Fuck," you mutter, hanging your head. You close your eyes as you realize that this little game of cat and mouse has just come to a horrifying end. There's no hiding. The hacker knows everything. You know that during the time that they'd taken the documents, they could have been looking at Lara's browser history, her private accounts, her photos - everything she'd owned had been compromised in a matter of seconds. You jerk your head up violently as you realize something truly terrifying that accompanies this new information.

"They know where we are," you breathe out, looking to Lara. You swallow thickly as you point to the computer screen. "They know our location, Lara. They can pin point it with a simple GPS." Lara stiffens as she looks back to the computer, only for her shocked face to turn into one of anger and fear. You follow her gaze to see that the hacker has opened up the notepad.

The line flickers, but nothing has been typed yet. You and Lara wait with bated breaths as you watch the mouse hover over the line. The silence around you is dense with trepidation. A million different thoughts are whirring through your head. You're praying that the hacker is just some stupid teenager in his parent's basement looking for someone's life to fuck up. You don't want this to be more than what it could be. You and Lara don't need that, not now. You think that the hacker simply pulled up the pad in order to mess with you, but you're soon proven wrong.

Stop, it types slowly, before it's too late.

Lara freezes, her hands trembling as she nudges you out of the way. You don't fight her, and instead remain glued to your position. Your hands shake as you watch the line flickering again. There's another silence again, and you hope to God that this was all some lucid prank. You think that the hacker's gone, but before you can turn away, the mouse moves. The cursor slides over to the folder with all of Lara's documents and opens it. The mouse clicks on the notepad again.

This is not your fight, Ms Croft.

"Who the bloody hell is this git? How the fuck do they know who I am?! I'll fucking kill them. I'll fucking rip their throat out. How the hell do we stop them?!" Lara screams, gripping the computer as she fights with it physically.

You shake your head and set the laptop down as you prevent her from shattering the entire thing. At least with the computer intact you'll be able to trace the source of the hacker. You idiot, Sam, you scold as you quickly reach for the computer, why didn't you think of that sooner? You fight for the control of the mouse as you finally gain the upper hand. You somehow manage to get into the script runner. You input a series of descriptions to try and pin point the intruder's location, but nothing is working. Error messages are popping up again, but you can't stop them. The notepad reappears.

You cannot find me.

"Bullshit," Lara scowls, as if the hacker can hear her. You watch as her fist clenches into a tight ball, prepared to strike at the computer. You grab her hand quickly as you watch the typing return. Lara pauses, only out of need to protect you from her rage.

Your efforts are futile.

The mouse moves from the control panel back to the folder with all the crucial, confidential documents. The menu shows up and the cursor scrolls down the the 'delete folder' option. Lara's face twists into one of sheer agony and shock. She struggles against your grip as you watch the mouse clicks on the option. Lara's teeth are grinding so tightly you swear you can hear the enamel being shredded apart. You grab at the table and steady yourself, placing your body between hers and the computer. You can't risk harm being done to the inanimate object if you want to get to the bottom of this. You watch as a pop up comes to light, asking if the user is sure of the deletion.

No, you want to scream, please don't fucking do it.

Yes.

Lara screams as she watches her notes and documents being erased from the computer. She's helpless as she watches the files being expunged from her hard drive without her consent. You fight the urge to cry as you watch her double over, shrieking hysterically. She's begging you to stop them, but you can't. You don't know what to do other than to remain frozen and staring. The files slowly disappear until there's nothing but a 'deletion complete' message popped up on the screen. The mouse trails back to the notepad where the typing begins once more.

Some questions are better left unanswered, Ms Croft.

Then, just like that, the computer shuts down and blacks out. It turns off and leaves you both standing, silent. Everything Lara'd ever worked for, every secret she'd uncovered on Yamatai and on Allistair Brown, all lost in the blink of a few seconds. You hesitate in turning to face her, unsure as to how she's going to look. You can hear her breathing, heavy and laboured as she struggles to simply stay calm. You keep your distance from her for only awhile longer, before you feel courageous enough to approach the truth. You shift your gaze so that you're only slightly meeting her eyes.

"It can't be gone," she breathes out, watching as the computer restarts as if it were fine again. The only difference is when the main desktop flashes on, all the icons are gone. Everything Lara had has been erased as if it'd never existed. You swallow harshly, ignoring the pit brewing in your stomach at the sight of the screen looking so empty.

"Please tell me you had an external hard drive or a USB," you whisper in a croak. Lara shakes her head out of the corner of your eye before she bows her head, scowling. She doesn't slam her fists, she doesn't scream, she just remains ridged, gripping the table with white knuckles.

"No," she mutters under her breath, "I didn't have time to get one."

"Dammit," you choke out, running a hand through your longish hair. Your fingers tug on a knot, but you don't care for the sharp sting it doses you with. You rub your jaw, trying to think.

"We could call the police," you say, looking directly at her. Lara stiffens as she quickly shakes her head and bows it, averting your gaze. You frown. Why would she be opposed to the idea?

"Lara?" You ask her, your voice shallow with concern. Lara bites her lip as she closes her eyes. The skin on her knuckles threaten to stretch with her vice grip.

"We can't go to the police," she whispers remorsefully. You frown again, stepping in her direction. Lara avoids you at all costs as you burn your stare into her rigid frame.

"Lara, why can't we call them? We've been hacked. That's personal information that the fucker now has. We need all the help we can get." You're trying to talk some sense into her unreasonably stubborn brain. This is so unlike Lara. At your words, your girlfriend's head snaps up and she gives you a guarded, but knowing glance.

Suddenly, you understand.

"Lara, you didn't," you whisper, shaking your head, "tell me you didn't do it." Lara bites her lip, chewing harshly upon the tender flesh with the tight clenching of her jaw. You watch as she gulps nervously.

Lara has always been a terrible liar.

"Lara, what the fuck? What did you do?!" You ask in breathy voice, stepping up to her as anxiety brews in your gut in violent churning motions. Lara reads your stance as challenging so she stiffens her back and haunches her shoulders like an animal protecting itself. You don't wither as you watch her eyes go from hazel to black with hate and anger. You will yourself to stay strong and to fight against whatever rage she possesses.

"You don't understand, Sam. I did what I had to," she growls, her fingers curling into fists. You push away the need to run and instead shake your head, standing your ground.

"No, Lara, you're right, I don't fucking understand!" You exclaim, stepping closer so that your lips are a few millimetres apart. You can feel the heat of her breath pattering roughly upon your lips, and as tantalizing as it may seem, you know that she's not staring at you with lust, but pure fury. You grit your teeth and jerk your head up assertively, causing Lara's eyes to narrow into infuriated slits.

"This isn't like you, Lara," you seethe, shaking your head in disapproval, "you're in too deep! Can't you see it? You're possessed by this! Maybe that sick fuck was right. Maybe this isn't your fight, Lara."

Your girlfriend's nostrils flare with frustration and shock at your comment. She raises her hands, and for a brief second you think that she's about to pummel you into a mash of flesh and bone. You brace yourself for the impact, but nothing comes. Instead, Lara lets out a muffled scream as she slams her palm down on the table in anger. The sound startles you, but you don't back down. You stare up Lara, waiting for her response. Lara doesn't answer for a moment, as she just glares at you. If looks could kill, you'd have been dead eons ago. Lara's chest is heaving. She looks barbaric and monstrous. The thoughts haunt you as you find yourself thinking about the men on the island. You part your aching jaw, feeling your throat dry up and your tongue stick to the roof of your mouth in anxiety.

"Y-You promised me that you wouldn't become one of them, Lara," you whisper, your voice losing its anger and instead taking on tones of sadness and grief. You hang your head as you shove away the tears that pull at your eyes. You take a deep breath before murmuring, "I'm losing you, Lara. You haven't stopped searching since we've come here. You refuse to go to therapy with me. You refuse to accept that you are turning into something you vowed you'd never become. You spent a month fighting those men, killing them, murdering them, all for what?"

"Don't you fucking dare!" Lara growls, suddenly lurching forward. She catches you by surprise as she tightly grabs your shoulders and grips you strongly. Her fingernails dig into your skin as her teeth bare with animosity. You shiver at the sight of her darkened eyes, glistening with furious tears. You can't move as she holds you to your place.

"You have no idea what I went through on that island, Sam," she spits your name as if it is poison to her lips. The tone stings, but you shove it off. You shake your head at her, forcefully pushing her hands off your shoulders.

"If you told me, then maybe I would, Lara!" You refute her statement with your own, crossing your arms to protect yourself from crumbling apart. You don't want to fight with her. For God's sake, you don't want to fight with her. You're tired of fighting and arguing. It's ripping you both apart. Your insides rupture and tear as you feel yourself falling to shattered pieces on the inside. Lara makes you feel so safe and comforted, but so equally terrified.

"I can't, Sam! I killed people, I know. I killed animals, I fucking know! I know what I did, Sam, and I'm not fucking proud of it, okay?! Yamatai ruined me! It fucking stripped me of everything I had and reduced me to this… this monster!" Lara screams at you, her hands reaching for her hair as she tangles her fingers between those brown locks. She tugs fiercely, her eyes pooling with hot, fiery tears. She shakes her head at you as she lets out a powerful cry.

"I can't explain to you what happened because if I try, I go back there," she whispers in a choked sob. She tentatively releases her fingers from her scalp and looks to her palms, gulping harshly. Her eyes grow angry again.

"If I go back there," she says, her voice suddenly void of any emotion as she trails off. The tone scares you. It's empty, hollow from all the things that you associate with Lara. Her eyes are what get you the most though. The obsidian has nearly taken over the whites. Desolation, grief, and anger fill in the red lines that creep up on her cornea. For a moment, you think she's an actual demon, or the beast Himiko herself. This isn't Lara. This isn't your best friend of a decade. This is exactly as she'd previously stated; this is a monster.

"If I go back there," Lara breathes out bitterly as you watch her eyes transition back to the familiar hazel, "I won't come back, Sam. I need to do this. I need to get to the bottom of this in order for me to get away from that place before it drives me insane. If I stop, I risk the chance of turning into one of them." You digest her words for a moment, trying to understand just what she is meaning to say. Your hands begin to shake as Lara lets a trembling breath past her lips.

"This is it for me, Sam," she whispers blankly, "this is my reality. Therapy won't help this. Forgetting about those lost relics won't help this. I killed on Yamatai and I fucking enjoyed it the longer I was there. The more men that were brought down by my bow or my guns or my fucking axe made me feel so damned good, Sam." She growls when she says the words, her fingers clenching into fists as if she were hungering for blood once more.

"Lara," you choke out, feeling fear run through you with the speed of a lightening bolt. You watch as she clenches her fists so tightly that her nails dig into the callused skin of her palms.

"The sickness from that island, Sam, it's still inside me," she hums with a slight snarl. She licks her lips and releases the grip of her hands. "I can feel it, that need to kill churning inside me, winding me up for when my spring snaps."

"You can find other ways of circumventing this, Lara," you protest, shaking your head in denial at her answer. Lara hangs her head as her shoulders droop. You take a hesitant step forward, reaching for her face.

"You can fight this, Lara, but you don't have to do it literally. Nobody else has to get hurt or worse, die, because of that retched place." You plead with her, placing your palm upon her cheek as you squeeze. Lara takes a moment before she nuzzles into your hand faintly. Her eyes stay glued to the floor as your thumb brushes over her cheekbone.

"Please," you urge her with a forced whisper, "please just try it once. Talk to someone about it. I… I get if you can't talk to me, Lara." It hurts you, tortures you, scalds you with acid, that she can't talk to you about the dangers and horrifying experiences she'd faced at that retched place. You know that you carry your own secrets, but you know that you're one step closer to telling Lara. Your work with David has already made you feel lighter and more prepared.

"Sam, I…," Lara breathes, biting her lip hesitantly. You can see the literal struggle in her eyes as she contemplates your request. That's good, you think to yourself, she's thinking about it. Now what are the odds that she'll take it. You run the calculations in your head, sorting through the various direction this conversation could go. You open your mouth to convince her further, but Lara's already taking the next move. Her shoulders tense. You prepare for the worst.

"I've killed so many people, Sam." Lara's voice is cold as the words leave her lips. She looks you dead in the eye, the darkness returning to those warm hazel depths. You suck in a sharp breath as she reaches for your wrist, curling her fingers tightly around it.

"I… I killed them not just regularly, but I tortured them. I let a few of them bleed out. I taunted them, shouted at them to run and hide because I was out to find them. I've slaughtered more people than I've ever known in my life the span of one fucking month. But that's not the worst part, Sam," she whispers in a sharp voice. Her expression is void of life and stripped of innocence, chilling your blood to ice in your veins. Lara takes a deep breath before she gasps, "the worst part is that I want to do it again. It's like I need to kill or else I'm incomplete. It's become a part of me, of who I am. I'm a murderer, Sam. I'm a ruthless killer. I can't keep you safe because I'm the real danger here, not that hacker, not Brown, but me." Her eyes bear into your soul, and you're back again in an instant to the caves on Yamatai.

You shiver as you hear screaming from the island. You remember watching as the arrow from her bow had driven into the skull of Ivan as he'd gone to light the fire at the base of your mast. You remember looking down at her, screaming through your clothed gag as you watched those relentless beatings. You remember each one vividly; the first, being tossed over Dimitri's shoulder like a rag doll; second, the heavy punch to her jaw from Nikolai; the third, a brutal kick to the torso; fourth, a hard knee to her nose, breaking it into two jagged pieces; the fifth, a powerful knee to the gut, sending her reeling. They had beaten her as if she'd been a sack of flour or a characteristic punching bag. You'd been so far away but you'd seen the blood glistening from their fists and from her body.

Dimitri, Nikolai, bring her to me, Mathias had boomed with a wicked grin. You'd screamed again when the men had parted to reveal Lara laying on the ground. You'd watched helplessly as they'd stripped her of her weapons and dragged her by her arms to where you'd stood, tied up. Lara's entire body had been shaking violently, the blood pouring from nearly every orifice in her frame. There'd been a long, jagged cut above her right eye, deep and fresh. It oozed crimson liquid all over her face, shadowing the right side. She'd opened those half lidded eyes, swollen from her beatings to look at you. The glance was desolate and blank. Lara'd let out a low groan as Mathias grabbed her jaw, angling it up to face him as he smiled sinisterly at her beaten form.

Every creature in nature will turn and fight when its very survival is at stake, he had muttered in feigned sympathy, before pushing her head away in disgust, so don't think I don't understand you, girl. I've just been doing this a lot longer than you have.

As Mathias had lit the flame, she'd been screaming for you to look at her, to put faith in her, but you couldn't. You'd felt the burns lick up your feet. You'd felt the fire in your heart, the whisper in your ear. It'd been louder than Lara's pleas or the chants of the men in the cave. The tidal wave had shot from behind you and that was when you knew that no matter how crazy you'd thought Mathias to be, he had been right. Himiko had been there with you in that moment. Lara'd tried everything to get to you, but it hadn't worked. Himiko had been there.

Mathias had won before the game even began.

"Sam?" Lara's wounded voice snaps you back to the present. You look at her to see that she has tears streaming down her face. You feel something wet on your own cheeks. You reach out to her, your hands brushing over the scar above her eye from that day. You can almost feel the blood again as you'd tended to it at the beach camp. Lara winces out of reflex, but doesn't pull away. She stares at you peculiarly, unable to understand why you're acting this way.

"No, Lara," you whisper, wiping the tears from your cheeks as they dribble down off your chin. You gasp and shake your head as you push away the terrifying memories, the bloodcurdling screams, the blood and the gore.

"You're not a murderer. You're not a killer. Your body thinks its still trapped on Yamatai, but just remember who's body put me through a reincarnation ritual and who's body saved mine from dying." The words wash over Lara as you stare directly at her. She remains silent for a few more moments, holding back cries. You reach up and touch the scar again.

"I don't care how many people you've killed, Lara," you whisper softly, your voice cracking as you wind your arms over her shoulders and pull her into you for a tight embrace. Your hand clenches lightly at the back of her neck, grasping at those fine baby hairs as you suck in a deep breath.

"I… I nearly watched you die on that island so many times," you choke out, the tears flowing from your eyes, "and then I watched you die on the boat, and again at the hospital. I… Lara, I can't keep watching you die. I can feel it happening. I can see the way you are now, Lara." Your girlfriend stiffens as you begin to sob into her shoulder. You let your free hand drift down until it hovers over her chest. You press down firmly, feeling her heart thundering against your skin.

"You are dying, Lara," you croak hoarsely, admitting the truth you'd longed yourself to face. Lara's breath hitches as you push more firmly against her chest. "You are dying and I can't help you win this one, this time. Please, Lara, don't let me lose you again. I've watched you die too many times. Once more, and I won't be able to take it." You're hysterically crying now, not holding back in order to be strong. You're falling apart and you can't stop the tears. You can't stop the festering pain. You can't stop the guilt, the sadness, the anger.

You can't stop anything.

"Okay," Lara whispers after sometime of your quietened hiccups. You freeze against her body as you feel her arms reach up and wind around your back, holding you tightly to her.

"Okay," she repeats, kissing your ear and then your cheek, her voice shaky and nervous. "I'll do it. I… I'll go to a session. I'll try, Sam. I… I don't want this anymore. I don't want this fighting, this constant anger, this sense of unrest. I just want peace. I want you, Sam." You feel her body grow lax with yours as she allows herself to give into your request. You cry out again, clutching her closer to you as you bury your face into her shoulder.

"Lara, you will always have me," you sob against her skin as she rubs your back. She hums sweet nothings into your ear, calming you down. Her grip is strong and protective, assuring you that she will fight back. Lara's kisses move from your cheek to your nose, until she shimmies her body in order to reach your lips. You pause at first, but you feel the sheer, raw emotion as her lips wedge between yours and you realize that you need this. You need to be close to her. You part your mouth and she fills your shattered being with an elixir of hope and warmth.

"I love you," she whispers between kisses, "I love you so much, my Sam." You melt in her arms as she moves her kisses to your closed eyes. You murmur that you love her too, pushing yourself into her arms. She wipes away those tears and kisses the trails they'd left behind in their wake. Your cries soften as she soothes you with gentle whispers.

It takes sometime before you both break apart and look at each other. There's so much collateral damage done from that island. Damage that time itself will not be able to heal. It's something that will not repair itself on its own, or with therapy, or even with closure. These invisible scars will haunt you both, but you realize that it's up to you on how you will let them affect you. You place your hands on either side of Lara's face and draw her in for a long, powerful kiss. She deepens it and you moan, finally understanding what you long denied and repressed. You know that for Lara, therapy will only do so much. You don't want to chase this down further, but you know that she needs this. She's right… Goddammit she's always right. You still have a chance to not bring it up, but as you run the probabilities and odds in your head, you know that you have to tell her.

"We should still tell the police about the computer," you whisper, breaking her kiss. Lara furrows her brows as she pulls away, confused as to why you'd want to revisit the topic. You place your hands on her shoulders now, sighing as you glue your gaze to the skin that lines her jaw and neck. Lara's breath hitches as you blink slowly before rising to meet her stare.

"That information, in the wrong hands, could be bad," you tell her seriously, "and we can't afford the repercussions that go along with them. If someone gets them, they'll paint a target on your back. Even worse, by snooping into the files, they'll know you've been running interference on Brown Corporations. Those guys are the real deal in technology, Lara. They could gut you using a telephone wire and some pliers. We need to get out of this mess." Lara chews her lip, processing your information. She lets go of you and takes a step back, just as you'd predicted.

"Sam, the stuff I was looking up," she stumbles, rubbing the back of her head, "I… I'd cut corners. I did things… searches, uh, retrievals, just things that weren't exactly… legal."

You don't act shocked, because you're not. You know how badly Lara is desperate for answers. You sigh and nod your head, remembering the last chance you have left. You've done your calculations. The odds of Lara accepting your proposed offer are slim to none, but it's better than having no plan. You take a deep breath, understanding that you only have one shot to get this right. You misplace one word and you're done. You open your eyes and stare at your girlfriend with a serious expression. You take her hands into yours and draw a deep breath.

This is it, this is your last shot.

"We don't have to go to the police," you tell her, ignoring her raising brow, "just the right cop."