A/N: This chapter is rated M for MATURE for some light gore and violence in the middle section. Hi guys, so sorry for the long wait on this update. I was extremely busy with moving out/flying home/settling my new apartment so I didn't really have time to write a new chapter until now. Also, it was mainly because I finally finished Legend of Korra and am an emotional wreck because of Korrasami. Parts of this story may or may not be inspired by some of the events in LOK. Anyways, this chapter was written after I'd seen the end of the third season, so I was heavily inspired by the track "Service and Sacrifice" that plays at the final scene of the third season (holy feels, man). If you want to cry on this chapter, listen to that piece when Lara and Sam go to therapy. Hope you guys are liking it so far, and please remember to not hesitate leave a review! I love reading them :) Thanks again for all the support. You're all awesome. Enjoy! :)
Washington D.C, The United States of America
You're nervous.
You've not been this nervous since taking your exams in university. You don't understand why you're so nervous, though. You should be relieved that you have someone to talk to that you can trust, someone that could understand why this is so important to you. Of course, you are fully aware that their approval of you isn't as high as you'd like, but it's better than having nothing. She's no stranger to you, but she's not your best friend. Even now, as she looks at you with her dark eyes and arms protectively folded over her chest, you can see that she's not at all pleased with your arrival. You gulp just thinking about how upset she'll be when she finds out the real reason you're here.
"Reyes," you say, nodding your head at her. Reyes licks her lips and nods her head up, glancing between you and Sam. The last time you'd seen her had been at the funeral five weeks ago.
"Lara, Sam," she says curtly, her voice void of any particular emotion. Sam's hand trails down your arm and reaches for your hand. She squeezes lightly, relieving some of your nerves. Reyes raises a brow and bites back a scowl and Sam winces beside you.
"Well, are you going to stand there or come in?" Reyes says with a light snort, moving her body to show you access to the house. You hesitate for a moment before you walk in, Sam following in tow. You both kick off your shoes and place them neatly by the door. Reyes shuts the door behind you softly before beckoning you both to the living room.
"This better not be some 'couples counselling' shit that you guys want me to do," she scowls as she puts air quotes around the words, but you make out a faint playful tone to her voice. You shake your head and look to Sam, who stiffens that the slight mention of counselling. You sigh painfully as you look down.
"No, we're not here for that," you tell her promptly, but you can see the flash of hurt that passes through Sam's eyes as she turns her face away from you. Wincing, you sigh deeply as you fold your hands together.
"We're here because we, uh, need your help with something." Reyes' brow raises at your statement. She crosses her arms and bites her lip, a guarding expression falling upon her face.
"The last time you needed my help with something, we all nearly fucking died," she spites in a low growl. You fight the urge to stand up and yell at her, but you suppress your indescribable rage. A part of you shivers in fear as you hear the whispers goading you on to attack her, to tear her throat out, to kill her.
Get out of my head, you snarl at them internally, all the while keeping your gaze fixated upon Reyes' stern expression. You hear the voices fade as you take a moment before speaking.
"I…, I know," you stumble, turning your head away as you take a deep breath. You feel a hand drape over yours as you look up to see Sam smiling at you encouragingly. You bite your tongue and ignore the pit churning in your stomach. You instead look back to Reyes. Sam clears her throat, her thumb running a soothing line up and down your index finger.
"We had a problem, and we needed your opinion or help, seeing as though you used to be a cop. You may be able to give us more information on our… issue," Sam says, waving her hand at Reyes. The dark skinned woman chews the soft flesh of her lips, as if she were trying to predict what Sam is going to ask next.
"I don't like where this is going, Sam," she mutters, puffing out her chest. You go to open your mouth when suddenly there's a loud thumping noise. You turn around to see Alisha clambering down the steps to the main foyer. She's got her face in her phone, but as soon as she sees the extra pairs of shoes at the front door, she stiffens and turns to the living room. Her eyes light with rage as she makes eye contact with you. The glare doesn't faze you as you stare back at her.
"Oh," she grumbles, scowling, "it's you."
"Alisha," Reyes scorns at her distasteful tone. Alisha scoffs and makes a noncommittal hand gesture. Her mocha eyes are like a forest fire as she continues her piercing gaze.
"What, why the hell should I be nice to her?" She snarls viciously, baring her teeth. You flinch as you see the raw pain in her eyes at the sight of you. Sam squeezes your hand in sympathy, but you bow your head, your eyes closing as you remember Roth's death all over again.
"Alisha, please stop. This is not the right place or time," Reyes says through a strained voice. Alisha shakes her head and marches over to stand in front of you with a fiery glare.
"No! No, I'm not going to stop, mother! She took away my father! She took away your lover! How can you not be mad at her? I'm goddamn fucking furious and I have every right to be. She took everything away from me!" Alisha screams, staring at her mother with a piercing glare. Reyes stands up, her eyes watery with rage and sorrow.
"Alisha, stop!" Reyes' roars, clenching her fists. Alisha shakes her head as she bolts back to the front of the room, slipping on her shoes before opening the door.
"Where do you think you're going?!" Reyes demands, maneuvering around the couch to try and get to her daughter. The young girl's grip upon the metal doorknob doesn't falter as Alisha mutters, "out. I'll be back later." Reyes head snaps up, but before she can say anything, she's out of the door, slamming the wooden frame behind her in her fury.
"We… we can come back later," Sam says, rubbing the back of her head as she looks between you and Reyes, who is now standing at the door with a sad expression painted on her face.
"No," Reyes says in a hushed whisper, turning around to face you. She takes a deep breath before she sits back down on the couch, defeated. She avoids your gaze as she sighs, "just… get it over with. What's wrong?"
Sam looks to you, wordlessly asking who should be the bearer of the news. You keep your glaze glued to the floor, offering no response to your girlfriend. Sam, seeing as though you refuse to answer her, takes a deep breath before turning to face Reyes with a serious expression. Her hand squeezes yours again as she takes a moment to assemble the words in her mind. She comes up with a suitable explanation quickly, nodding her head.
"Do you remember how we'd been researching things about Brown Corporations and those lost relics from Yamatai?" Sam asks quietly, trying to gauge Reyes' reaction from the start. Reyes stays stoic and emotionless, but offers a bleak nod. Sam clears her throat before continuing precariously.
"Well, we were in the middle of doing some research yesterday, but something happened to our computer," Sam says, trailing off for a moment before she sucks in a deep breath. Reyes' brow raises in concern now, her eyes flashing as she glances between the two of you suspiciously.
"What happened?" She asks in a voice made of lead. You nod your head up, acknowledging her with a desolate gaze of your own. Reyes stiffens when she sees your facial expression.
"We were hacked," you say bluntly, "we lost everything." Reyes looks confused for a moment as she puts her hand on her chin, her index finger rubbing up and down her jawline.
"Remind me again why that's a bad thing? Hackers are pricks most of the time. Besides, whatever you got they could've got on their own, right?" She asks with a gentle tip of her head. You gulp nervously as you rub the back of your head.
"This guy was seriously something else," you stumble on your words as you wince, "because they had been talking with us via the notepad. The stuff they said… it was fucked up, Reyes."
"Fucked up how?" Reyes asks, her brow raised in concern. You go to answer, but as you part your mouth, no words come out. You can't just drop it on her that you'd been downloading illegal files that could put the both of you in prison should the feds find out. You have to be careful, and you know that right now, you can't afford a slip up. You swallow the nerves as best as you can, but nothing works. Reyes' gaze narrows upon you as she sucks in a sharp breath. Sam squeezes your hand and sighs, nodding her head up so that her eyes land upon the chocolate orbs of the ex-cop.
"They kept telling us to not look at the information, that we were making a mistake," Sam cuts in and explains, her voice slightly shaky as she relives the previous memories. Reyes' scoffs nonchalantly.
"To be honest, I'm with them," she snorts, waving her hand at the two of you, "whatever you guys are doing is some serious bullshit if it's attracting hackers, Lara. You should know by now it's not worth meddling in business that's not of your concern." You grit your teeth in frustration as you clench Sam's hand tighter to your arm.
"Fuck off, Reyes," you snarl, "this isn't about making more trouble. It's about preventing more trouble from ensuing. We were trapped on Yamatai with those fucking savages, but this is different. This is your home, and if something bad were to happen here, how would you deal with it? How would you be able to cope if something were to happen to Alisha?"
Reyes snaps.
"Lara, there would be none of that had we'd not gone to Yamatai in the first place," the older woman growls, standing again, crossing her arms with fury. "It's because of your love of fucking exploring that we ended up as fucked as we are now. Give me one damned good reason why I owe you anything." Your eyes light with fire as you stare the dark skinned woman down with a furious glare.
"Because," you say in a low, sharp voice, "I saved your life."
Reyes bites the inside of her cheek at your bold, but true statement. She sighs deeply, looking between you and Sam with a conflicted glance. Rage bellows through your frame, and for some terrifying reason, you want nothing more than to reach out and throttle her with every ounce of strength in your body. Your fingers clench into tight fists, noticed by a cautious Reyes. The older woman takes a deep breath and loosens her shoulders disarmingly before looking to the floor.
"You wanna cash that favour in now?" Reyes' voice is cold as she speaks, her head jutting up so that your gazes can meet; ice meets fire as silence blankets the both of you. You see Sam shudder out of the corner of your eye, but you nod your head regardless, keeping your shoulders squared defensively. Reyes' lips flatten into a line at the move.
"Fine," she mutters, waving her hand in a noncommittal fashion, "but this makes us even."
"Square," you reply with the same lack of emotion to your voice. Reyes grunts before she sits down, crossing her legs as her brows furrow. You take a seat and Sam's arm winds around yours.
"I've got a close friend," the ex-cop states, nodding her head, "she's ex-military. Hell of a soldier but a tech genius. She should be able to get a start on this. The woman could hack a cell phone just from looking at it once, ha. She'll probably crack whatever case you have in a matter of minutes." The faint ghost of a smile plays at Reyes' lips as she reminisces over her friend. Sam nods her head in agreement as she leans forward.
"Great, when do we meet her?" Sam asks in a chipper tone. Whatever smirk that had been present upon Reyes' face is soon demolished as her eyes darken.
"I am not so certain that would be a good idea. She's a little… estranged, for the lack of a better word, from society at the moment. The war took its toll on her," Reyes replies, biting her lip, before trailing off in a murmured whisper, "amongst other things." Your brow raises in concern as you cross your arms defensively. Reyes' flinches, and before you can go to protest, she throws her hands up in a disarming gesture.
"Look, you'll get your information. Leave it at that, okay?" Reyes says affirmatively, nodding her head at you. You sigh and submit, realizing that limited, and albeit shady help, is better than no help at all. Sam reaches for the bag that you'd brought and fishes out the computer, handing it to Reyes, who accepts it with a grunt.
"Thanks again," Sam says quietly as you both stand, "for understanding." Reyes shakes her head, setting the laptop down on the couch before escorting the two of you towards the door.
"I don't understand," Reyes mutters as she opens the door, "and I don't want to."
/
Sam pushes the steaming cup of tea in your direction, but you don't move. You can't help but continually think about the conversation between you and Reyes. You hang your head and close your eyes, but instantly, you're faced with Alisha's burning gaze, her piercing glare as she blames you for her father's death. Your body shudders and a forced cry makes its way out of your throat. You fight the urge to break down and cry at the memory, and instead you sit up straight, your gaze fixed on the slow stream of steam leaving the black mug.
"Hey Lara?" Sam's voice is distant, but you shake yourself out of whatever insecurity you'd been in previously to nod your head up at her. She clears her throat nervously as she wrings her hand around her coffee cup with hesitation. Her throat bobs as she swallows nervously.
"Are you still coming today?" Sam asks gently, her eyes guarded and worried. You furrow your brows in confusion as you process her question, before you remember what exactly she's asking.
"Oh, the therapy?" You reply as you bring your hands to clutch the small mug with a gentle squeeze. Sam nods, wary of your movements. You sigh as you look into the creamy substance before taking a tentative sip.
"I…," you mumble as you watch Sam stiffen. Before she can get upset, you sigh and nod, replying in a small voice, "yeah, I guess. I mean, it's worth I shot, like you'd said before."
"You sure?" Sam asks gently, reaching over to squeeze your wrist. You slowly pry her fingers off your skin as you shrug with obvious disinterest, taking a sip of your tea.
"Do I have a choice?" You grunt, internally scolding yourself for being so cold. It's not like you mean to act that way, but it's something you've found you can't control. You've developed this other side, this dark personality that's crude, abrasive, pushy; it thrives off pained pleasure and craves the destruction of others. Parts of you curl up in disgust whenever its present, but there's some ache, deep down in the pit of your stomach, that's repulsively satisfied with each one of your outbursts or violent urges. Your fingers twitch with need as Sam flinches.
Kill her and be done with it.
It's that voice inside your head, the tone dripping with vengeance and pure sin, that speaks to you in a tender whisper. It feels like an embrace from a lover, a tongue gently lapping over your ear as it speaks to you. Shivers run up your spine at the warmth in your chest at the words. Suddenly, the weight of the words uttered in your mind bear down on you. The thought mortifies you, jolting you to reality as you hear Sam sniffling. You pull your hands into your lap, unable to look at them as you see straggling tears lining your girlfriend's cheeks. The festering darkness leaves your heart, replacing the void with guilt. You sigh as you bite your lip, tasting copper upon your tongue as your teeth mar through the flesh. Sam sets her cup down rather abruptly, making a point for you to know that your reply was hurtful.
"You do have a choice, Lara," Sam growls, wiping away a stray tear from her gaunt cheekbone, "you always have a choice. I'm not forcing you to come, you know. I… I just want to help you."
"Help me?" You growl unintentionally. Dammit, you scream at yourself, just get away! Give me some peace for God's sake. Sam flinches as your fingers curl into the table, leaving faint scratches. "You can't help me, Sam."
"What is wrong with you?!" Sam breathes out as you spit her name like venom. You don't even flinch despite the internal turmoil you're facing. The rational side of you is screaming and pleading for you to stop, to hold back before you hurt her any further, but the darkness clouds the little humanity you have left. Sam's pained eyes causes your stomach to flop around like a fish out of water. She gasps and you suddenly feel your vision blur with rage.
Kill her, the whisper chants in your mind.
"What is wrong with you?!" You snarl back, standing from your seat.
You're not sure if you're even talking about Sam at this point. The question could easily be directed towards yourself, because you want to know what is wrong with you, why you think this way, and how can you stop. You don't want to hurt your girlfriend. You want to comfort her and love her and treat her with the same amount of love and compassion she gives you. Each morning, it's Sam that calms you down through your nightmares. It's Sam that feeds you when you forget to eat. She does everything for you, and you repay her with this; you push her away and treat her like she's dirt when to you she's gold. Sam winces and pulls away, fear lighting those chocolate orbs. The sight snaps you back to the present and that gnawing fire of anger diminishes immediately. You glance down at your hands and flinch.
"Sam, I'm so sorry," you whimper as you look back up. As you nod your head up, you see that Sam has somehow managed to cross into the main foyer and is reaching for her coat. Your chest tightens apprehensively as you watch her wipe the tears away from her cheeks.
"Sam, wait, I didn't mean it!" You call out, rushing to her side. Sam avoids your gaze as she stares at the floor with a distant expression. You suck in a deep breath and will yourself to stop thinking dark thoughts for just a moment. You reach out slowly, but Sam hesitates, stiffening.
"Don't touch me, Lara," she says in a low voice, her words coated in betrayal.
You hang your head and nod shamefully, taking a step back to give her some space. Silence befalls the both of you as you feel the tell tale sign of tears burning at your eyes. You clench your fists shut as the whispers dare to return, but you find the strength to push them to the back of your head. The sound of a doorknob turning is what breaks you from your trance. You sheepishly raise your head to see Sam opening the door. She gets it halfway before she pauses.
"Do you want to come or not?" Her words are not hostile, but they're not gentle either. You can hear the pang of hurt in her voice as she speaks to you, but you swallow your guilt and nod.
"Yeah," you murmur as you step away from her, "let me just grab my coat."
"I'll be waiting in the car," Sam grunts in acknowledgement as she steps through the opening and heads towards the jeep. You close your eyes and shake your head as you make your way over the bedroom, reaching for your coat. You look outside the bedroom window to the forest behind the cabin and sigh. Your fingers tremble as you remember the last time you'd been in such a place. Part of you fears what hides in the shadows of the tall oak trees, but the other part screams at you with an almost animalistic urge to run and explore the secrets of the undergrowth.
For a moment, you want to be back on Yamatai.
Turning away from the terrifying thought, you head back to the door, locking it up securely before jumping in the jeep. Sam is looking out of the window, her gaze not particularly fixated on anything. She's simply avoiding you and you know that you deserve it. You know that you're the root of her pain. The worst part, the part that feels like a sledgehammer is being slammed against your ribs with each drawn breath, is that through it all, Sam has never once left your side. You keep trying to shut her out, but it's burning the both of you as a result. You glance to your girlfriend, wondering if this relationship is turning from healing and comforting to destructive and abusive instead.
You shudder at the thought. You can't afford to think like that.
You can't lose Sam.
Sam is what grounds you. Sam is what reminds you of the better things in life. Sam gives you hope. Sam dusts you off and picks you up like you're the only one in the world that ever mattered, and ever will matter. She's told you once that you were her hero for saving her, but she doesn't know that each day, she's saving you. Her love for you is something that goes beyond the literal word. She displays her love for you in a multitude of ways, most of them without even requiring talking or physical touches. It's in the way she looks at you, the way she watches over you, or how she talks to you when she thinks you're sleeping. It's about how vulnerable you become when she's with you. After Yamatai, you'd lost a part of yourself, and Sam is trying to help you find it.
"I know that it may seem like I don't mean it," you say softly as your fingers trace over the worn plastic of the steering wheel. Sam doesn't turn as you clear your throat and face her to say, "but I am sorry… for all of this. The pain, the fighting, the way I've been acting. I… I wish I could explain what happened but I don't even understand it myself."
Silence.
You close your eyes and breathe through your nose as you rub the back of your neck. You wait for a few moments as you realize that maybe this time, you really did go too far. A blind part of you hopes that as you open your eyes, you'll see Sam's face staring back at you with those beautiful dark eyes, her mouth pursed into a form of an acceptance to your apology. But, as you open your heavy eyelids, you see that Sam hasn't moved from her spot. Something inside your gut snaps as you swallow thickly and turn back to the ignition. You shove the keys in and turn on the engine, allowing the quiet rumble to fill the tense air between the two of you.
You make the forty-five minute drive to the clinic in tranquility. Sam keeps her gaze glued to the window, her chest rising and falling slowly to assure you that she is, indeed, alive. You've never seen Sam this quiet or this upset in your life. Your fingers clench tighter around the wheel as tears forcefully roll down your cheeks. You bite the inside of your cheek as you round the corner and pull onto the gravel parking lot. The tires crunch against the small pebbles and you're suddenly reminded of the same sound from the many bones you'd broken on Yamatai. Unable to take the overload of sensory information, you pull the car swiftly into a spot and shut it down.
"Sam," you breathe out as you look over to the smaller woman with a hesitant glance. Your girlfriend doesn't move or acknowledge you, but you watch as her breath hitches. You wring your hands together and fumble to stop them from shaking. You close your eyes and rest your head in your clammy palms, your shoulders beginning to tremble from fear and anticipation.
"It's really fucked up, you know," Sam whispers, the first words she'd uttered in so long. You jerk your head up, expecting her to be looking at you, but her eyes are still turned away. You choke on air as you shift in your seat, trying to get a view of her face, but her shoulder prevents you from doing so.
"It's fucked up how you protected me from them, saved me from that island, from all that murder and gore," Sam says again, her voice lithe as she clenches her fingers into a tight fist. She clenches her jaw tightly before she turns her head to face straight ahead. The faint streak of tears glisten in the afternoon sun, leaving a void in your heart.
"But nothing is more fucked up than how, just moments ago, you'd looked at me with that exact same hate that'd been in their eyes," Sam growls, her voice more hurt than angry. "Maybe you're right, Lara. Maybe you have changed. I've been denying it all this time, but maybe… just maybe I've been stupid this entire time." You wince, feeling as though she'd dug a dagger into your chest with her words. You whimper pathetically as Sam finally finds the courage to face you, her dark eyes desolately bearing into your own hazel depths.
"There's something inside you that isn't you, Lara. I can see it in your eyes. It's… cold and inhospitable, like you're trying to build a wall," Sam says, speaking nothing but the truth. You thought you'd been able to hide the change from her, but Sam is smart. Sam knows things before you do, and this is no different. You bow your head and nod slightly.
"I…, I'm trying to fight it, Sam," you choke out, your hands placing them upon your shoulders as you shiver. "But's hard. Everyday I wake up unsure of which side will be present. I hear things… voices, whispers, telling me to do things… terrible, awful things. I see all those that I've lost, killed, beaten… I see them and I can't get them out of my mind. It's tearing me apart, Sam." You choke on the last sentence as tears fill your eyes. Your blood runs hot, like lava spewing from those throbbing veins, tempting to incinerate you with its heat. Your stomach churns again and something inside you cracks, leaving you with that all too familiar thirst for blood. You squeeze your eyes shut and will the feelings away. Suddenly, you feel a soft fingertip pressing against your temple as you jerk your eyes open to see Sam staring at you with an emotionless expression. Her lips are curled into a faint frown as she sighs.
"I can't help you with that, Lara," she murmurs as she rubs her thumb over your temple. "It hurts me, it really does, to see you like this, but this is a fight that you must face on your own." You know that she's telling the truth, but you still can't help but feel lost without Sam's support. But you also know better than to make her another casualty in your own battle. You can't risk losing her, even if it means keeping her away from your turmoil. You nod and swallow hard.
"Sam?" You breathe her name quietly. Sam doesn't respond for a moment, but soon she removes her hand from your head and nods, asking you to continue. You look into her eyes earnestly.
"I love you," you say softly, but you know that this time, love isn't enough. You watch as Sam's eyes flutter shut before she draws a gentle breath, her head turning away from you. Everything inside of you is on the brink of falling to pieces at the reaction she's giving you. A tear rolls down Sam's cheek as she reaches for the door.
"Come on," she says distantly, "if we don't get moving now, we're going to be late." You remain frozen to your seat as you watch her pull away and exit the car, wiping away stray tears as she does so. She makes her way over to the clinic without a second glance. You look back to your hands and feel rage burbling up inside of you. You couldn't save your parents or your friends, and now you can't save the most important person in your life, your fucking best friend and girlfriend.
You're a failure, the voice mocks you with a chuckle.
You'd tear the entire jeep into a scattered mess but you don't have the strength or time. You grit your teeth in frustration as you exit the car and follow Sam into the sterile building. Bile rises in the back of your throat as you remember the psychiatrists that you'd been forced to talk to after coming back from Yamatai and had been bedridden in the hospital. You grimace at the not-so-fond memories of the countless questions with which he had prodded you. He had no concern for your mental state. He just wanted to know what you did. You shake your head from the agonizing flashback and instead focus on the present. You breathe deeply as you reach for the door with a shaky hand. You want to get better, you know you do. Not just for Sam, but for your own peace of mind. You're tired of the nightmares. You're tired of the anger. You just want tranquility and closure from all that had happened.
You want to be normal again.
As you enter, the nurse hands you a questionnaire and gives you a sympathetic look before saying a gentle hello to Sam. You grumble as you look down at the questions, your insides curling up nervously as you read some of them. Your hands begin to shake as certain words on the page jump out to you, searing the letters in your mind like a stamp. Your mouth becomes dry and suddenly the ticking on the wall sounds more like the ticking of a bomb. You glance around at the room in a panic, searching for exits. The nurses are staring at you with empty eyes.
Everything stops.
You watch in horror as each one of their faces transforms into someone that you once knew. The lead secretary's visages shifts into the charred flesh of Alex. Her eyes become black and beady with death as you watch Alex's mouth part in a silent scream. You tear your eyes away from her to the man at the photocopy machine, only to have Grim staring back at you with his neck twisted at a bizarre angle, blood pouring from his mouth as he laughs bitterly. Roth stands beside him, the axe lodged in his spine and a grim smile painting his lips as he nods at you. You let out a choked cry as you flicker your gaze over to the two nurses slowly approaching you. Their hands are outstretched and they're saying something, but you can't hear them over the sound of your heart thumping wildly in your ear. You watch as their faces shift too, but their transformation is far more heartbreaking.
Your father and mother walk towards you, hands intertwined as they'd always been. Their faces are just as grim as they'd been the day they'd left for their expedition. You watch as your father comes closer, the space around him beginning to blur in darkness. Everything blackens around the two figures, and suddenly, you find yourself engulfed in the shadows. The only thing you see is the approaching bodies of your mother and father. Your mother's eyes are soft, but teary and sorrowed with grief as her pale hand reaches for your cheek. You feel the softness of her skin upon your damp cheek as she wipes away a straggling tear. Your father has his hand on her shoulder, his equally mournful gaze bearing through to your soul. The flesh upon their skin begins to burn away as you hear a piercing shriek sound from beside you.
Lara, your father whispers, let go.
You cry out again as your father steps past your mother and reaches for your wrist. The grip he has on you is tight. You can feel your blood cease its pumping to your wrists as the flesh of his palm begins to peel away to reveal the muscle, bone, and fat underneath. You stare down at it in horror, feeling the blood pool over your skin. You want to scream at the sight of the liquid dripping over your flesh but you can't. The anger returns as you try to wrench your hand out of his grasp, but he's too strong. You shove forward instead, barreling into his chest. You turn your head back up to see the rest of the skin on his face now tearing away. His eyelids rip off and crimson liquid runs everywhere on his body. You can't look away, not even when the whites of his eyes run red like a demon.
Lara, he growls again in a low voice, let go.
"Let go!"
You blink your eyes again to see that there's a nurse in front of you with a hand around your wrist. You breathe rapidly, your chest heaving as your eyes try to adjust to your surroundings. Sweat beads down your forehead as you start to come around. You look to the side to see a few nurses and workers staring at you with wide, frightened eyes. You furrow your brows in confusion as you see their faces staying stable and not shifting. You look the other way to see Sam standing with her hands cupped over her mouth. You go to ask her what's wrong when you feel something bob against your palm. You turn your head to the source, before gasping in shock and fear at what you discover.
The nurse that must've instructed you to let go has her neck trapped in your grip. You have her pinned a foot off the ground, your hand clasped around her throat tightly. Her hand claws at your wrist again and you immediately let her down, taking a step back as you look at your hands. You don't remember what happened. Usually you only acted this way after a delirious nightmare. You don't know how you ended up nearly throttling the poor woman, but somehow, you did it. Was it the voices? Did they win? You look back at the terrified nurse, who is now shaking like a leaf, before you take another step back, accidentally barrelling into your horrified girlfriend. The minute you see her face you jump away. A new thought lingers in the back of your head as you stare at her teary eyes with trepidation.
What if it had been Sam instead?
"I… I…," you stutter, your throat dry with the lack of use. You look back down at your hands, hallucinating the blood of your father's palms splayed out between the cracks. You tuck your hands under your armpits and shrivel up under the scrutinizing gazes of everyone in the room. They're watching you, judging you, haunting you.
"I'm sorry," you splutter in a cry as you look back to the nurse, ashamed. She doesn't look convinced as she rubs her throat with her trembling fingers. You look to Sam, tears filling your eyes as you try to back away from her. You don't trust yourself, and you certainly don't trust yourself around her after what had just happened. Before it had been the nightmares in which you saw the dead, and now their memories are creeping into your conscious form.
How long do you have until they have complete control?
"Ms Croft?" You hear your voice being called over the tense silence. You jerk your head up, beads of perspiration rolling down your face as you look over to a small woman standing by an open door with a file held loosely in her hands. She looks apprehensive as she checks you out, but draws a breath before moving slightly, revealing a hallway behind her.
"Dr Fitzgerald would like to see you now. You too, Ms Nishimura," she says as calmly as she can, but she obviously had witnessed the events that had occurred in the waiting room. You're stuck for a moment on whether you want to follow through with the appointment or whether you want to make a run for it, but as you look to Sam's hesitant expression, you already know you have no other choice. You suck in a deep breath and nod slowly, trying to regain your composure. Sam tenses from beside you, but you shake your head at her.
"Okay," you whisper quietly, walking towards her and allowing her to lead you into the room. She looks to Sam worriedly as you take a seat on the armchair closest to the window. The nurse murmurs something under her breath to Sam, but your girlfriend shakes her head and whispers something back. The nurse sighs as she peers over at you once more before placing the file upon the desk and stepping out into the hallway. The door closes behind her in a soft click, and then once again, you're left in complete and utter silence.
That's all it takes for you to finally break.
"Sam," you choke out, breaking down into a sobbing mess. You're hyperventilating now as you curl yourself up into a ball on the armchair. You slam your eyes shut, grateful for the darkness. The bleak obsidian mimics your current emotional state. You've never felt so broken, so lost, so hurt. Everything inside of you wants nothing bare for death. Your entire frame shakes like you're trapped in the epicentre of a level eight magnitude earthquake.
An agonizing shriek pierces your lips as you curl further into yourself. Your entire body feels like it's on fire. The voices are so prominent now. You close your eyes and see your father and mother's dead gazes staring back at you. You hear Roth telling you about sacrifice as you'd stubbornly raced off to help the injured pilot. You watch Sam's body being lifted into the air as Himiko literally sucked the life out of her. Everything crashes down at once and your mind explodes. The only thing you want to do is to cut out the pain with your axe, or to rip out your heart with your bare hands. You crave the burn of physical torment, as on the island, it was the only thing that ever reminded you that you were alive. You've never been suicidal, but right now, you want nothing more than to be consumed by the sickness in your head and die.
You gasp through shallow breaths as you realize that you don't want to be here anymore. Everyone has their own threshold, and you've just about burned through yours. You can't feel your legs or your arms as you continue to thrash around upon the floor like a dying animal. You hear someone speaking loudly, but the voice is muffled. You find yourself unable to answer or talk, or even understand what they're saying. It's like you're trapped in one of your characteristic nightmares, but this time, you're not waking up because you're not asleep.
Oh, how you wish you were asleep.
"Ssh," you hear Sam's soothing voice call out, but you can't open your eyes. You taste nothing but remorse and guilt on your lips. Your chest is tight and your hands feel like they're on fire.
"Ssh, Lara, I'm here," Sam murmurs shakily, her voice closer now, "please, you need to breathe and calm down. You're not getting any air through." You somehow find the energy to open your eyes to see her kneeling in front of you. Tears blur your vision from properly making out her face, but you can see that she's on the verge of crying. Her hand is trembling as it places itself upon your taut biceps, over your hand that holds your body together.
"I'm here, okay? It's okay," she whispers, her hand trailing upwards to run through your tangled hair. You watch as a few tears straggle down her cheeks as she leans forward, wrapping her arms around you and pulling you into her. Somehow, you end up half on the chair and half on the ground with your face pushed into her chest. You sob against her shirt, your hands clutching at the material as your body finally fractures under the pressure of your memories.
"It's okay," Sam repeats again into your ear as she kisses your temple, "it's okay."
But that's just it.
It's not okay.
It will never be okay.
You reluctantly pull yourself away from her chest and look up at her distant gaze. Something in those brown eyes causes you to cry out in pain. Sam's lying to you, she's trying everything to protect you from the war that wages inside your mind, but she's no knight in shining armour to your trauma. Your head spins and aches and your palms are clammy and shaking as Sam pulls you close to her again. You bury your head in her neck and cry harder as her hands rub soothing lines up and down your back. You want to disappear, to save her the misery of carrying your burdens. You want to save yourself the same misery. The whisper comes back as Sam's arms tighten around your back, but this time, the voice isn't spiteful or hostile.
Kill yourself. It's pleading with you, begging you for release. It's a low, condescending snarl as it speaks again, the sound reverberating in your mind. Kill yourself before you kill anyone else.
You stop crying as the weight of the words bears down on you. For a moment you consider the option. It's tantalizingly tempting. You think about your parents, and how you couldn't stop them from leaving. You see Roth, Alex, and Grim, and you remember how each of them had died protecting you. You see the nurse from the waiting room, her throat enclosed in your white knuckle grip, minutes away from death. You open your eyes to see Sam. You remember the whispers from earlier in the day, goading you to bring the fate of those wretched men on Yamatai onto the one person who you love more than the world. You had self-control then, but now? What do you have now that holds you back? What if there hadn't been any nurses, or if you'd been alone with Sam? Would you have realized?
Could you stop yourself from doing the unthinkable?
The sad thing, the thing that wrenches your heart into uneven, jagged pieces, is that you don't know. You don't know how much of this you can take. You're changing into the darker side of your burdens. You're losing the true essence of what makes you, you. You don't see Lara in the mirror anymore. You see the shadow of the woman known as the wannabe archaeologist. You see what could have been, instead of what is. You're a shell of a woman. Roth had seen it in your father, and now you know that both you and Sam see it in yourself. You're not here anymore.
You were lost months ago, on an island in the middle of nowhere.
A soft knock on the door interrupts you from your thoughts. You feel weak and sickly in Sam's grasp as you shake uncontrollably, but still your girlfriend looks down at you, wanting to know if you are ready for this. Her eyes are so soft and warm, but also so guarded and concerned with your wellbeing. You feel guilty again, because you'd never been this supportive of her. You suck in a sharp breath as you try to untangle yourself from her body. Sam calls out for the doctor to give you a moment, and his gentle voice acquiesces from the other side of the wooden frame. Sam reaches down and helps you back onto the armchair, her hands coming to rest on your thighs as she gazes at you with sympathy and sorrow. You avoid her gaze, feeling ashamed of all that had happened in these past months. Sam takes a shaky breath as she leans forward and captures your lips in a soft kiss.
"I love you too," she whispers against your mouth, pulling back to wipe away the stray tears from your face. She cleans you up with a few tissues before straightening your shirt. She dips her head and sighs, closing her eyes for a brief moment, before she takes a deep breath and turns around, sitting on the chair beside you. She calls for the doctor to come in, saying you're both ready. The doorknob clicks and he walks in, but you remain unmoving and still. You feel paralyzed to your seat. Your hearing is fuzzy and your head throbs from the crying.
"Ms Croft," the doctor says softly, but you can't look at him just yet. He leans in on his chair, gazing at you sympathetically as you try to raise your head. You get as far as his collar before you begin to shake. You lick your quivering, chapped lips and remain silent.
"Are you ready to start the session?" He asks, his voice smooth like velvet. You look up, your gaze settling blankly on a point on the blank wall behind his shoulder. You remain quiet for a few moments before you shift your stare to Sam, who's simply giving you an encouraging expression. Something strikes in your heart again as you turn back to face the doctor's collar.
Still avoiding his gaze, you take a breath and nod.
/
"Why don't you go freshen up?" Sam says as she places the car keys in the empty bowl beside the door before turning and locking the frame. You remain silent, just how you'd been for the past two hours. The therapy didn't go successfully, per say, but you'd managed to stick through the entire session, even if you never said a word. You'd been too caught up in the voices and the near murder of the nurse to have concentrated on what David had been asking you. Instead, Sam had taken to answering questions, and for a moment, it was as if you hadn't even been there.
"Lara?" Her voice calls out again, but you can't seem to acknowledge her. You're so wrapped up in the past, you're not even certain if you're existing in the present. Sam gazes at you with concern as you remain frigid by the door. You stare at the floor, feeling so empty and worthless. Before you'd been angry, now you're just depressed. You feel like there's an elephant strapped to your back, crushing your body. You don't move as Sam walks over to you slowly.
"Oh Lara…," she whispers your name, her hand coming up to place itself upon your cheek. You don't react, neither by moving nor speaking. Sam's head leans up as she presses your foreheads together. Her skin is warmer than yours, but your heart still feels like ice. Her other hand joins the one on your face, resting on the empty cheek as she pulls you closer.
"We'll get through this," she murmurs, closing her eyes. You can tell by the way she's breathing that she's thoroughly exhausted, but she manages to reserve some of her strength for you. It's not fair, you know it. Sam has her own struggles, her own anchor pulling her down. You stiffen as your heart stops beating at your own internal monologue. You manage to look down into Sam's eyes and you see her love for you shining clear through her glossy gaze.
What if you're the anchor pulling her down?
You close your eyes and place your hands on her shoulders, gently pushing her away from you. Sam inaudibly gasps, but doesn't say anything as you nudge past her, heading for the bathroom. You open up the door and close it behind you. You're tempted to lock it, but you don't. You avoid the mirror as you pull down your pants and sit on the toilet. You conduct your business in silence, trying to block out the sounds of Sam's soft cries from the other room. You finish up and wash your hands, your eyes glued to the water running over your palms in the sink.
Lara, the whisper calls out, you are pathetic.
You wince, but you shake your head. You turn off the tap and hang your head over the sink. Tears force their way out of your closed eyelids as the darkness churns inside you. It eats away at you like a festering parasite. Your flesh twists and burns, as if you're fighting that infection from months ago. You break out into a cold sweat as panic washes over you. You are brought to your knees on the cold tiles. You press your clammy hands into the tiles, your head pressed against the cupboards of the sink as you begin to cry again. The whisper returns again with a vengeance.
Kill yourself, it repeats again in a growl, or kill Sam. Your choice.
You don't have a choice.
Your body swells with familiar rage as you stand, gripping the edge of the sink tightly. You fight off the voice in your head as you look into the mirror. Cold, angry eyes stare back at you in a bloodshot gaze. You shiver as you see the monster you've become. You swallow harshly as you turn away, your breathing becoming erratic and out of control. The whispering grows more intense. You make out different voices besides that twisted snarl, now. You hear your parents, Roth, Alex, Grim, haunting you from a bodiless form as they call for your name. You rip open the drawers and scrummage around inside until you find what you'd been looking for.
You whip out the scissors and stare at yourself in the mirror. For a moment, you're tempted to rip the two blades in half and bring an end to your misery once and for all, but you can't find the strength to complete that task with Sam only a few feet away. You look back at the scissors, the metal glinting in the light. It flashes before your eyes and you're suddenly reminded of all those spotlights from the island, trained on you. The firing of bullets as they'd attempted to kill you. The sweet feeling of redemption as you'd slit all their throats, one by one. You grip the scissors tighter, holding them closer to your body. You nod your head back up to the mirror, only to see your icy reflection staring back at you. You watch in horror as your lips move on their own accord, pursing out a single sentence in a low, furious snarl.
You're a coward, your reflection goads with a smirk, a pathetic, spineless coward.
"No," you growl in reply as you grab the scissors and reach for your messy ponytail. Your reflection seems undeterred by your actions as you pry open the sharp metal and encase it around the lock of hair. Your eyes stay focused on those of your reflection as you grit your teeth.
With one final breath, you clench down on the metal.
There's a loud scratch as all those hairs that had been pulled back tear into two halves. The lock of hair falls limply in your hand, now detached from its original constraints. Your reflection pauses for a moment before it chuckles sinisterly. You drop the scissors, not even flinching when the cool steel clatters against the tiles in a loud crash. You glance at the wad of hair in your hand and feel your heart jump up in your chest. You let loose a strangled cry as you glance back up to your snickering reflection. You begin to cry as it laughs in a lower register, its eyes cold and hostile.
Pathetic, it jeers again, truly pathetic.
You close your eyes and begin to sob. You drop the hair into the sink and grab your face viciously. Your nails attempt to break the skin, but they're too blunted and your grip is not tight enough. You shake as you scream into your skin, the sound muffled by your hands. You shake your head side to side like a rabid dog, lolling around as you fight off the shivers that course through your veins. You've lost it, your sanity, your courage, your spirit, you've lost it all. Your tears come faster as you release your grip and look back up into the mirror to see your normal reflection staring back at you, sobbing with you. Your hair is a dishevelled mess, with strands poking out at every end. There are heavy bags under your eyes and your cheekbones are so gaunt that it looks like the bone is trying to pierce through the skin.
You don't even look human.
"Lara?" You hear Sam's voice call out softly from the other side of the door. Your heart plummets as you look back to your reflection. How are you going to explain this to Sam? You look to the hair in the sink and the scissors on the floor and panic.
"Lara, I heard something crash. Are you okay?" Her voice is calm but worried. You part your mouth in a failed attempt to answer her. You cry out in agony as you turn away from the sink, unable to face yourself any longer. You bury your face in your hands once again as you slink down the cabinets until you are sitting on the floor.
"Lara, I'm coming in," Sam says sternly, the doorknob twisting. You hide your face away from her, fearful of her reaction to your sporadic decision. There's a soft gasp and you feel ashamed immediately. You hear her footsteps, wary and careful as she enters the small space.
"Lara…," she trails off, her voice brimming with devastation. You agree with her. You've fucked up. You're fucked it all up and this time, you can't glue things back together. You expect her to walk out on you, to call you pathetic just as your reflection had, but she doesn't move. You slump further into yourself, feeling like the failure you know you are.
But then, a hand touches your shoulder.
You freeze at first, unsure of what is going on. Sam is upset, you're upset, you cut off your hair for God's sake. You look like a beast, but there Sam is, laying a comforting hand upon your shoulder. You sniffle and calm your breathing instantly, as if she were a powerful anti-anxiety remedy that had lasting effects. You find the courage to open your eyes to see her crouching beside you. Her hands run down your arm until you hear her back thud lightly against the cabinets. You pull your knees up to your chest and duck your head between the space, making yourself as small as you possibly can. Sam sighs as she lightly reaches for your hand. You sit in silence for awhile, the only sounds noticeable are those of your quietened sobs.
"You know," Sam says in a scratchy voice as she traces the pad of her thumb over your index finger with a gentle caress, "if you wanted a makeover that badly, you could've asked. Fashion is my thing, remember?" Her words are meant to be humours, but her voice is coated in worry and sorrow. You don't say anything as you shudder, your cries softening down.
"We… we can work with this," Sam hums as she abandons her hand from yours to lightly touch your hair, now bobbed up at your jaw. You already know you look like a mess, but you refuse to move. Sam runs her fingers through the small knots and sighs again before she kisses your temple. The small graze of her lips brings you out of the coma you'd induced yourself in. You slowly tilt your head upwards, still not looking up at her, as you let out a long, slow breath.
"We could maybe style it into a pixie cut or something," Sam says before letting out a half-hearted chuckle, "you know, something that will make you look as gay as you already are." A small smile tugs at your lips and Sam's face brightens instantly. She clears her throat and continues playing with your hair, the hesitancy and shakiness now gone, replaced by her signature Samantha Nishimura confidence that had been lacking for the past few weeks.
"What do you want? Wanna look totally lesbian like Ellen or something more subtle like Kristen Stewart? Maybe we could even try a side shave if you're so inclined. It worked wonders on me," she jokes again, her voice a little light. You flinch at the mention of a side shave, remembering how Sam had looked. You'd definitely been attracted to her steampunk style in the first year of university, but you doubt that's a look for you, an introverted bookworm.
"Okay, okay," Sam murmurs gently, kissing your cheek with a loving brush of her lips, "no side shave, then. I can work with that." Sam waits a moment before she suddenly jerks her eyes open wide. You look in her general direction, but not in her eyes as you furrow your brows in confusion.
"I have just the thing," she says as she reaches for the scissors on the floor, "stand up. I've got an idea." You let out a quiet sigh as Sam helps you to your feet before gently pushing you towards the sink. You avoid the mirror, and instead bear your stare upon the cut pony tail in the sink.
Sam starts snipping at your hair, slowly and delicately approaching the task with a level of gentleness you'd avoided while you'd clipped off your ponytail. You watch the small hairs fall into the sink in silence as Sam keeps styling away. She takes a few moments before she comes to a stop. She sets the scissors down gently. There's another quiet moment that falls over the both of you as Sam takes the time to glance in the mirror, looking at her handiwork. You want to say something, but as soon as you attempt at parting your mouth, you hear soft sniffles coming from behind you. Your heart breaks slowly, like a cracked piece of ice that you're about to fall through. You close your eyes, unable to turn around and comfort her.
It takes a moment, but Sam eventually calms down. You hear a few more sniffles before a hand places itself over yours on the sink. Her fingers weave through yours as she kisses your shoulder with the lightest of pecks. Her head is heavy upon your skin, but you bear the weight, figuring it's the least that you can do with all the pain you've caused her. Sam squeezes your hand and kisses your skin once more before she pulls away.
"Take a look," she murmurs gently. You force yourself to open your eyes. You stare down at the hair in the sink for sometime before you nod your head up slowly.
Your hair has been neatly styled into a low bob that extends just past your jaw. You haven't known a life with short hair, bare for the one you'd led back when you'd been younger. Your father had insisted you'd have a short bob because it reminded him of his own mother. You'd loved it, mostly because it had been so easy to take care of. After they'd died, you couldn't ever go back to having short hair without being reminded of them. But, as you look at yourself now, you can't help but feel slightly grateful for the gentle nostalgia. Your heart aches as you realize how old you've become in the past couple months. You don't look anything like the old Lara, but maybe, just maybe, that might be a good thing.
"You're beautiful, Lara," Sam mumbles softly, kissing the back of your neck as she loops her arms around your midsection, hugging you from behind. Her head rests in your nape as she follows your gaze in the mirror. She looks as old and ragged as you do, but she still manages to smile brokenly.
"Now we're matching," she says with a slightly light-hearted tone as she looks to her own hair, though it's somewhat longer than yours now. You feel tears well in your eyes as you nod partially, biting your lip. Sam sighs, her hands rubbing your stomach over your shirt as she kisses your neck again. Your cries qualm before they begin and you reach down to squeeze her hands in a silent thank you. Sam shakes her head gently, pressing another kiss to your skin.
"We're gonna be okay, Lara," Sam whispers delicately, "we… we have to be okay." You're silently watching her for a moment, trying to figure out what kind of hope Sam runs on. You know that the both of you are so shattered that no matter the therapy or catharsis you encounter, you will never truly be okay. Yet, Sam still pushes on the thought. Maybe she's not as smart as you claim her to be. But, as Sam's arms tighten around your waist and her eyes close against your neck, you realize that maybe, you're the one that's not as smart as you'd thought.
Maybe, Sam isn't delusional.
You recall Alex teaching you a popular American expression back in university when you'd struggled with your computer course. Fake it until you make it, he'd told you as you'd scowled at the computer screen. He'd set his textbook down beside the laptop with a gentle thud as he'd placed a hand upon your shoulder in encouragement. You'd stared at him with frustration and anger, but he'd simply nodded at you with a signature smirk playing at his lips. Sometimes it's just better to pretend like we know what we're doing, he'd said in a laugh before pushing the computer back towards you, and then maybe one day, before we realize it, it won't be pretending anymore.
"We're going to be okay," you whisper back, the first words you'd uttered since the morning. You don't believe it, but you force yourself to try. Sam's eyes flash open tiredly to gaze at you. Hope flickers in those chocolate eyes as she smiles a genuine, optimistic smile. You realize in that moment, that Sam feeds off of you for encouragement, and in turn, you feed off her encouragement. You're both each other's fuels to your fires. You cannot exist without another, and when one's lost, the other's fire becomes dim. Suddenly, it's no longer about you needing Sam, but it's about Sam needing you.
You need each other.
"Lara?" Sam whispers gently as you turn in her arms. You reach for her face with your shaking hands and pull her in for a soft, chaste kiss. Sam gasps in your mouth, her lips parting to allow a breath of hot air to patter against your cool skin. You lean your forehead against hers as you nod.
"I'm not giving up on you," you whisper softly as you reach down for her hand. You look down and squeeze it lightly in yours before you glance back up at her. "I'm not giving up on me, Sam."
"We're not giving up," Sam murmurs as she kisses you softly, "we can do this, Lara. We've found a way in the past, we can find a way again. Just… don't leave me. Whatever happens, just don't leave me, Lara." You shake your head as you pull her in for a hug. Sam's head pushes into the hollow space between your neck and shoulders as she wraps her arms around you tightly. You stare over your shoulders at your reflection, a new determination set in your hazel eyes.
"I'm not going anywhere."