The reception was being held in a private room at the British Museum. Lara
had arrived late and all the guests were listening to a talk by the eminent
archeologist Dr Jones. Not wishing to interrupt she took the opportunity to
look at a couple of new exhibits and ducked into a room of Egyptian
artifacts, treading quietly to avoid being noticed by the security guard.
She was examining the markings on an urn and had just decided that the date
label was off by at least 300 years when she heard subdued voices coming
from the next room. Tiptoeing over to peer around the door she saw two men
intently discussing a scroll in a cabinet at the side of the room. She
couldn't quite make out what they were saying but they were definitely
acting suspiciously. Lara leant into the room as far as she dared,
straining to catch some of their conversation.
"It's not in his house!" the younger man was struggling to keep his voice to a whisper, obviously in frustration.
"This means nothing without it." Lara didn't catch the rest of the sentence, but the silver-haired gentleman gestured at the scroll. The rest of the conversation was too quiet for her to hear, although she did make out one word which was incongruous in that it wasn't English. It sounded like 'sangria' but why would they be talking about Spanish cocktails?
The men turned to leave and Lara suddenly realised they were coming her way! She glanced around the room - all the display cases were glass so there was no way she could hide. At the last minute she ducked behind the door, praying silently that the men would not look behind them as they left. They certainly didn't look the sort to take too kindly to being spied on and now wasn't the time for a confrontation. As they passed Lara noticed that the older man was limping heavily and using a cane with a decorative silver handle.
Lara's heart was racing but eventually when she was certain the pair had gone she stepped up to the scroll they had been examining so closely. A small card dated it at 100 a.d. and it was written in some ancient form of Arabic that she didn't quite recognise. Lara peered closely and attempted to translate it but she stumbled over the words. "He who...drinks from the...vessel...I shall give to him the...fountain?" she looked up, unsure, "of eternity. For the.blood of the.king? No, lord?" Lara sighed in confusion and scanned down to the end of the passage. "And the....resting place shall be...revealed only to he who...wears the...symbol?" The very last line, at any rate talked about some kind of map - that word was the same as the modern translation.
She was at a loss as to what the scroll was talking about, but the object the two men were looking for must be the map, and they seemed to think it was important. Lara was intrigued. They must think somebody had it as they had searched his house. But they hadn't found it...
*
The party was in full swing when Lara arrived, and many guests turned to look at her, dressed in an elegant black dress, slit up to mid thigh and revealing just the right amount of cleavage. The two men were nowhere to be seen.
"Lara Croft," the familiar American accent made her turn around, to see her long term rival tomb raider smiling wryly at her.
"Ah, Mr West," she said, "what an unpleasant surprise." Of course he would be here.
"You're looking beautiful as always," Alex's eyes flickered over her body as he flirted shamelessly.
Lara nodded politely, "if you'll excuse me," she said.
"Now now Lara, I was only going to be a gentleman and offer to buy you a drink."
"Alex, the drinks are free, and you could never be a gentleman," Lara replied, sarcasm dripping from her voice. She made to go and talk to someone else, intent on finding out more about the scroll from the museum curator.
But Alex grabbed her elbow with a strong hand, "come on Lara, stop playing games with me. I thought we were friends now, especially after." he moved his body closer to hers.
Lara knew what he meant. She thought back to the day he was referring to, the day of the alignment that already seemed an eternity ago.
*
Lara had been grinning as she emerged into the bright daylight, just as the whole structure behind her collapsed. Three men were waiting by a sled, with four huskies straining at the leads, obviously desperate to get away from the scene of utter destruction. Only one of the men came running up to help her as she collapsed exhausted in the snow, patches of red immediately staining the crisp whiteness around her.
"What were you thinking?" The angry question was not one she had expected to hear and she mustered enough strength to shoot the man kneeling beside her a withering glare.
"I'm fine, thank you for asking," she said as Alex helped her up and then lowered her carefully into the sled which the other two had brought up next to them.
"I think we'd better get moving," Bryce said with a worried glance over his shoulder. He looked down at the two tomb raiders and thought they must have been mad to come back out here in just their t-shirts. He didn't even want to guess how many degrees below freezing it was. He didn't care about Alex, but Lara looked in a bad way. "I'm going to regret this," he said as he unzipped his white down jacket and placed it gently around her shoulders. Lara smiled at him weakly, then he shivered and grabbed the reins, shouting 'mush!' as loud as he could.
*
Alex was also thinking of that fateful day. He had helped Lara into the coat properly, then began to rummage through her rucksack for the first aid kit he knew would be in there. Blood trickled from the corner of her mouth, but most worryingly it also covered her left arm and hand. He scooped up a handful of snow from the ground that was now flying past and used it to wash the sticky redness away. Lara flinched from the sharp pain but eventually Alex could see where the wounds were - deep gashes ran across her palm and fingers, seeping fresh blood even now.
He searched her eyes. "Will you tell me what happened Lara?" he asked, bewildered. Powell had been about to throw a knife at him, but then what, he stabbed himself? That was incomprehensible. And he was sure he had actually thrown the knife. Wasn't he? Alex began bandaging Lara's hand. And where had she got these cuts from?
Lara leaned back against the edge of the sled, she supposed she had to tell him what had happened so she explained that she had used the triangle to stop time and turn the knife that Powell had thrown around, so it ended up stabbing him instead of Alex.
Alex was filled with wonderment that she had saved his life, but he was still confused. "But how on earth did you get the triangle and make it work before that knife got to me?"
"I didn't."
Realisation dawned and Alex's hands stopped winding the bandage as he sat in thought. "The knife did get to me. What, did I die?" The thought horrified him. "And you used the power of the triangle to go back and change my fate?" Lara was nodding slowly. He looked down at her hand, which he still held in his. Blood was already staining the bandage. He could only think of one word to say, "why?"
"You may be a greedy, unscrupulous sellout, but you don't deserve to die. Especially not when Powell could die instead."
Alex smiled to himself, he knew that wasn't a reason and he let himself hope that maybe the real reason was that she did have feelings for him, after all. He finished bandaging her hand but held onto it and took hold of the other one too. "Thank you," he murmured. It sounded lame, but it had to be said.
Lara looked him in the eye. "Why don't you thank me properly, Alex?" she asked.
He frowned, but then recognised the smile that was playing on her lips. He could feel his heart beating in his chest as he grinned back, then leaned in and brushed her lips gently with his own. "Is that what you mean?" he asked softly.
"Not quite," Lara breathed, her full lips parting ever so slightly. Alex needed no further invitation and he kissed her again, deeply this time. He tasted blood from the cut on her lip, Powell had punched her, he guessed. The thought made him seethe with anger and only the thought that he would never be able to do it again calmed him down.
He swallowed her blood - the taste of it was actually strangely arousing - as the kiss ended and Lara leaned back against the side of the sled again. She put a finger up to her mouth and inspected the fresh blood that came away on it.
"Sorry, I made you bleed again," Alex said with a slight laugh. He wanted her so badly, and looking at her face he could see she felt the same. The freezing cold was a wonderful contraceptive, he thought to himself wryly.
"It's not in his house!" the younger man was struggling to keep his voice to a whisper, obviously in frustration.
"This means nothing without it." Lara didn't catch the rest of the sentence, but the silver-haired gentleman gestured at the scroll. The rest of the conversation was too quiet for her to hear, although she did make out one word which was incongruous in that it wasn't English. It sounded like 'sangria' but why would they be talking about Spanish cocktails?
The men turned to leave and Lara suddenly realised they were coming her way! She glanced around the room - all the display cases were glass so there was no way she could hide. At the last minute she ducked behind the door, praying silently that the men would not look behind them as they left. They certainly didn't look the sort to take too kindly to being spied on and now wasn't the time for a confrontation. As they passed Lara noticed that the older man was limping heavily and using a cane with a decorative silver handle.
Lara's heart was racing but eventually when she was certain the pair had gone she stepped up to the scroll they had been examining so closely. A small card dated it at 100 a.d. and it was written in some ancient form of Arabic that she didn't quite recognise. Lara peered closely and attempted to translate it but she stumbled over the words. "He who...drinks from the...vessel...I shall give to him the...fountain?" she looked up, unsure, "of eternity. For the.blood of the.king? No, lord?" Lara sighed in confusion and scanned down to the end of the passage. "And the....resting place shall be...revealed only to he who...wears the...symbol?" The very last line, at any rate talked about some kind of map - that word was the same as the modern translation.
She was at a loss as to what the scroll was talking about, but the object the two men were looking for must be the map, and they seemed to think it was important. Lara was intrigued. They must think somebody had it as they had searched his house. But they hadn't found it...
*
The party was in full swing when Lara arrived, and many guests turned to look at her, dressed in an elegant black dress, slit up to mid thigh and revealing just the right amount of cleavage. The two men were nowhere to be seen.
"Lara Croft," the familiar American accent made her turn around, to see her long term rival tomb raider smiling wryly at her.
"Ah, Mr West," she said, "what an unpleasant surprise." Of course he would be here.
"You're looking beautiful as always," Alex's eyes flickered over her body as he flirted shamelessly.
Lara nodded politely, "if you'll excuse me," she said.
"Now now Lara, I was only going to be a gentleman and offer to buy you a drink."
"Alex, the drinks are free, and you could never be a gentleman," Lara replied, sarcasm dripping from her voice. She made to go and talk to someone else, intent on finding out more about the scroll from the museum curator.
But Alex grabbed her elbow with a strong hand, "come on Lara, stop playing games with me. I thought we were friends now, especially after." he moved his body closer to hers.
Lara knew what he meant. She thought back to the day he was referring to, the day of the alignment that already seemed an eternity ago.
*
Lara had been grinning as she emerged into the bright daylight, just as the whole structure behind her collapsed. Three men were waiting by a sled, with four huskies straining at the leads, obviously desperate to get away from the scene of utter destruction. Only one of the men came running up to help her as she collapsed exhausted in the snow, patches of red immediately staining the crisp whiteness around her.
"What were you thinking?" The angry question was not one she had expected to hear and she mustered enough strength to shoot the man kneeling beside her a withering glare.
"I'm fine, thank you for asking," she said as Alex helped her up and then lowered her carefully into the sled which the other two had brought up next to them.
"I think we'd better get moving," Bryce said with a worried glance over his shoulder. He looked down at the two tomb raiders and thought they must have been mad to come back out here in just their t-shirts. He didn't even want to guess how many degrees below freezing it was. He didn't care about Alex, but Lara looked in a bad way. "I'm going to regret this," he said as he unzipped his white down jacket and placed it gently around her shoulders. Lara smiled at him weakly, then he shivered and grabbed the reins, shouting 'mush!' as loud as he could.
*
Alex was also thinking of that fateful day. He had helped Lara into the coat properly, then began to rummage through her rucksack for the first aid kit he knew would be in there. Blood trickled from the corner of her mouth, but most worryingly it also covered her left arm and hand. He scooped up a handful of snow from the ground that was now flying past and used it to wash the sticky redness away. Lara flinched from the sharp pain but eventually Alex could see where the wounds were - deep gashes ran across her palm and fingers, seeping fresh blood even now.
He searched her eyes. "Will you tell me what happened Lara?" he asked, bewildered. Powell had been about to throw a knife at him, but then what, he stabbed himself? That was incomprehensible. And he was sure he had actually thrown the knife. Wasn't he? Alex began bandaging Lara's hand. And where had she got these cuts from?
Lara leaned back against the edge of the sled, she supposed she had to tell him what had happened so she explained that she had used the triangle to stop time and turn the knife that Powell had thrown around, so it ended up stabbing him instead of Alex.
Alex was filled with wonderment that she had saved his life, but he was still confused. "But how on earth did you get the triangle and make it work before that knife got to me?"
"I didn't."
Realisation dawned and Alex's hands stopped winding the bandage as he sat in thought. "The knife did get to me. What, did I die?" The thought horrified him. "And you used the power of the triangle to go back and change my fate?" Lara was nodding slowly. He looked down at her hand, which he still held in his. Blood was already staining the bandage. He could only think of one word to say, "why?"
"You may be a greedy, unscrupulous sellout, but you don't deserve to die. Especially not when Powell could die instead."
Alex smiled to himself, he knew that wasn't a reason and he let himself hope that maybe the real reason was that she did have feelings for him, after all. He finished bandaging her hand but held onto it and took hold of the other one too. "Thank you," he murmured. It sounded lame, but it had to be said.
Lara looked him in the eye. "Why don't you thank me properly, Alex?" she asked.
He frowned, but then recognised the smile that was playing on her lips. He could feel his heart beating in his chest as he grinned back, then leaned in and brushed her lips gently with his own. "Is that what you mean?" he asked softly.
"Not quite," Lara breathed, her full lips parting ever so slightly. Alex needed no further invitation and he kissed her again, deeply this time. He tasted blood from the cut on her lip, Powell had punched her, he guessed. The thought made him seethe with anger and only the thought that he would never be able to do it again calmed him down.
He swallowed her blood - the taste of it was actually strangely arousing - as the kiss ended and Lara leaned back against the side of the sled again. She put a finger up to her mouth and inspected the fresh blood that came away on it.
"Sorry, I made you bleed again," Alex said with a slight laugh. He wanted her so badly, and looking at her face he could see she felt the same. The freezing cold was a wonderful contraceptive, he thought to himself wryly.