Chapter 9

The following morning, Lara rose early and made her way to Max's room, a spring in her step and a carton of cigarettes in each hand. She still wore the clothing that she had borrowed from Max, hoping to do a little shopping before riding to the airport.

After repeated knocking, she 'convinced' one of the housekeeping employees to let her in. As the door opened, Lara knew Max was gone, his editing station and clothing were no where to be seen. The only indications of his stay were was stench of his cigarettes from the over-flowing ashtrays.

Lara was somewhat dejected as she was checking out, she still wanted more time with that man, she had been having fun last night - and could not remember the last time it had happened.

As if in answer to her desires, the desk clerk presented her with an envelope bearing the hotel's crest with "Laura Croft" written on the front of it. Her right eyebrow raised just a little, and then she opened the note, which read:

Laura,

Sorry to bail on you, but I've got a really long drive ahead of me - we're talkin' four days back to the land of the Buckeye. I did call to say 'good-bye' but guess you were sleeping the sleep of the dead, so I'll call this good enough.

I just wanted to say that it was a real honor meeting you - I hope I didn't piss you off too bad - I know my social skills are not the best in the universe. Enclosed is my card. If you are ever back in the States, feel free to give me a ring, or just drop me an E-mail for the hell of it - but you are under no obligation whatsoever.

Talk to you later,

Max

P.S. - You can keep the clothes - a memento.

P.P.S. - Where in the hell are my cigarettes?

Bust a deal - face the wheel! (Movie reference - don't worry about it.)

Lara stared at the note for several minutes. She was both overjoyed at receiving the note and angry at Max for leaving - but most of all she was amazed at the amount of emotion that she was feeling on the subject as a whole.

On the taxi ride to the airport, Lara looked at a map of Central America, the crazy idea of intercepting Max to give him his cigarettes (which she still carried). She followed the series of roads that led north to the United States.

Her zeal to pull off her little operation faded when she saw the mass tangle of options that presented themselves. That, with the idea that Max just might opt for the lesser traveled thoroughfares (not even present on the map), made her re-consider her plan.

There was no one seated next to her on the flight home. In fact, there were as few as five people seated in first class. Normally, the isolation would have suited Lara perfectly, but there was just something inside of her that she needed to release.

She slept fitfully on the thirteen hour journey, often dreaming of Max. There must have been five of them where she had given him his precious cigarettes.

Finally giving up on sleep and ordering up some tea, Lara took the remainder of the flight for a little reflection. She knew that it was not uncommon to dream about someone who...yes, Lara did have strong feelings for that man, that married man. No, it was not even a question of that, it was merely the coming together of kindred spirits...

...the knowledge that she was not alone in the world.

Of course, Lara was only truly alone when delving through some forgotten crypt - save for the odd thug, or tiger...or bat...or gorilla...

The point was that Lara had not realized fully her distaste for people in general until she had met someone whom she liked, and even someone who challenged her.

With an hour before her landing, Lara retired to the water closet to freshen up. The face that stared back at her did not seem to be her own. It was soft, the recollection of an era that had passed. It was a face that was full of feeling.

The Tomb Raider had no time for frivolous emotions - they only got in the way. However, Lara was feeling at that moment, and no amount of dismissing the feelings was going to make them go away...

Vowing to deal with her state a little later, opting for a more appropriate location than the lou of a 747, she got herself together and returned to her seat.

Soon enough, the aircraft landed at Heathrow on schedule. Lara disembarked with the other passengers, but felt very strange among them. As the airline hosts and hostesses gave their plastic good-byes, Lara could barely understand them, and barely nodded her head in reply.

Entering the line for customs, Lara (whose contacts usually allowed her to simply be ushered through with untold treasures) was stopped and questioned about the cartons of cigarettes she still carried in her left hand. After the customs clerk began a lecture about tobacco being a controlled substance and Lara needing to fill out forms and pay the appropriate taxes on the importation of the tobacco products - Lara handed over the cartons and just walked away

Leaving customs and entering the terminal, Lara felt an utter stranger in a world that all knew each other. People wandered about with their significant others, friends, children, all in a common bond - one that Lara did not share.

And they were all staring at her.

Then she realized that she was still wearing the shirt that Max had given her - she must look like an American tourist who had lost her way.

"Ms. Croft?"

Lara turned at the mention of her name and saw Winston, her...servant?

That wasn't the right word - he was much more than hired help, and right now he was approaching her and holding a small overnight bag. Lara returned his usual dour expression with a smile.

"Headed out to holiday?" she asked him.

"Of course not, Ms. Croft, I thought that you might want to a change of clothing after your trip, and I see that I have made the right decision. Shall I have those...things burned for you after you have changed?"

"Certainly not, I shall wear these clothes home."

"As you wish"

Winston always agreed with his employer's (that word was wrong too) wishes, but always made sure that she knew his opinion in no uncertain terms.

They made their way to the parking area, and Lara climbed behind the wheel of her Range Rover, Winston grunting his displeasure. Lara often wondered how a distinguished hero of two world wars and many other accomplishments could still be alive with all of the noise that he made.

Tabling the thought for a later date, Lara started the engine and pulled the SUV into traffic, accelerating at a mad pace. Winston grumbled a disapproving mumble that was lost to all but himself and the two were off, Lara cursing the large vehicle for not having more power.

But she had an idea of how to fix that.