Lara sits on her bed, planning and reminiscing. However, it is mostly reminiscing. She finds herself looking at childhood photos. A much younger Lara looks back at her, wearing a Spice Girls t-shirt and an S Club bracelet. Gel bracelets loop around her other wrist, and she's flashing a bright, braces-covered smile. In the background, a bus stop with a grinning clown's face and razor sharp teeth shares equal placement with an equally nightmarish bandicoot. Behind Lara is the late Lady Croft. Lara's hands shakes as she holds the album, then it drops, sending pages flying out. Lara sighs. It's not the first time her hands have shaken involuntarily, and it won't be the last.
Her past, the warmth of her mother's arms, the sound of pop music coming from the car radio, the drenched posters outside the London bus stops…
All gone, leaving nothing more than memories…
She groans at the way they fade, the sensations leaving her holding nothing more than faint hints of the pleasures she once knew—but clear in mind, clear as daylight, she can tell you how to operate a Japanese machine gun. She can tell you how to modify an AK-47. She can teach you a dozen different ways to kill a man.
But she can't remember the track list for her first Spice Girls album.
It frustrates her. She remembers the taste of blood in her mouth better than the taste of her first cup of Orange Pekoe. She wraps her fingers around a pencil but it doesn't feel right in her hand anymore.
Kill. Fuck. Repeat.
Show the world how strong you are. Please Himiko. Get on your knees for her as you stand on the backs of everyone you love.
Where did that thought come from?
Lara shudders as she remembers Sam's taste in movies, and she remembers watching Friday the 13th Part VII and finding it unsettling. Sam could be quite the horror fan, though admittedly she shows it less lately, owing to…recent events.
Lara begins to daydream idly…and it turns into a nightmare, a hard rain pounding a hockey mask onto her face, a long machete drawn into her hand as she stalks through forests and caves. And she finds her prey, bringing it down…on a screaming Sam. Blood runs from her friend…no, not just a friend…not anymore.
Lara can't say what Sam is anymore. The word "girlfriend" sounds trite, and the word "lover" makes her sound kinky, she feels. "Pillar of strength" might be closer. "Support" worked, as did "living emotional crutch." She swears every time she moans Sam's name her body becomes like gelatin—weak and unstable. It all just acts like a knife cutting into her.
Pain. It is the one constant she feels.
She'll do anything to survive now, she thinks to herself. Kill, or worse, probably…
Stop. You don't really believe that, do you?
I don't know what to believe anymore…
She gets up, every muscle in her body aching acutely. Reaching for the tea that's been cooling on the table, she takes a sip. There's not enough sugar, but at this point she's far from caring. The tea can be as bitter as it likes. Nothing will be as bitter to her as the violence of Yamatai.
Sam walks in quietly, settling down on a beanbag chair lying on the ground. It's big, orange, and tacky, but it's warm and that's all that matters to her for right now. She looks up at Lara, and feels her pain. Lara looks like a lost kitten, not someone who's killed.
"I'm not afraid, Lara."
She isn't sure why she says it, but it's true. She's not afraid of Lara. Why would she be afraid of the most important person in her life? Why fear the woman who saved her life? It doesn't make sense to her.
"Lara, I know you think…I know…I don't know exactly what you think, but…I think you think you're some kind of maniac or something. I think you're afraid Yamatai has changed you. And it has…but not in the way you think, Lara. You're strong, Lara. You're more open with your emotions, more honest…and I can't thank you enough for saving my life. I don't see you as a killer. I don't see you as part of that island. I see you as Lara. The same Lara who dried my tears at night, the same Lara who would think of things to study for so she wouldn't have to go to parties, the same Lara who listened to S Club and Hanson and all those other boy bands…Lara Croft. That's who you are. Nothing more, nothing less."
Lara doesn't say anything. She puts down her tea, folds herself down on the floor, and rests her head in Sam's lap. The emotional exhaustion soon puts her to sleep, and Sam sighs with relief before pulling her love closer to her.