A/N: Thank you so much to RhiaLynn for working as a Beta to improve the flow of the fic!

Guest: Thanks again!^^

Timeline-wise before and around "L is for Likeness".

O is for Offering
Offering : a sacrifice, usually a present for Gods.

She quickly gets used to him being able to heal her wounds. Of course, Jacob looks at her with an expression that says that she has never particularly cared for her own well-being. The only difference now is that the scars come faster and the pain doesn't fight for her breath.

Jacob is always there, depending on the urgency of the injury. Her skills have improved, but so have the risks that she takes, especially now when Trinity has risen again.

The first major incident happens when one of the honorary guards of an ancient tribe manages to shoot her near her right shoulder blade with an arrow. She can feel it break a rib and puncture her lung. She is able to shoot the warrior with her pistol out of reflex, but after that, she is forced to crouch down, trying to probe the arrow that is still partially in her.

There are two more gunshots – Jacob's – and she stays close to the ground, wishing he'd hurry up. Her mind is closing in on shock as the adrenaline and the norepinephrine flood her nervous system without an outlet, but she has been ready to sacrifice herself before. Then, she'd had less to lose, but the thought is always in the back of her mind, a fact of life that she has brought upon so many.

"Stay awake," Jacob orders her gently as she tries to gather air into her only working lung and dares to raise her head to ease her position now that he has deemed that it's safe to come to her.

His only warning to her is the left hand he places on her spine to act as a counterforce when he grasps and pulls out the arrow in one sickening gurgling sound. Despite trying to keep herself supported by her elbows, she immediately falls to the ground and blood starts to flow rapidly from the wound on both sides.

There's a brief flash of fear as the situation gets out of her control, but Jacob is already turning her on her left side and covering the wounds with his hands.

He starts to pray, head bowed but taking glances at potential enemies every so often, and Lara finds herself repeating his words in her mind.

Maybe he senses her budding conviction because even when the hole through her upper body is fixed, Jacob's hands stay comfortingly on the exposed skin on her back and above her right breast. Lara lets her head droop against the dusty ground and looks sideways at Jacob who massages the new scars on her skin as if to cure them out of existence and gives his private thank yous to the high heavens.

After the first fatal injury, getting badly injured becomes just another page in her playbook to save the world. Jacob is not thrilled by the change but stands up with her to answer – argue – about the rules when she pesters him. How far does his healing go? What is the worst injury that he has healed? Does her heart still have to beat in order to be saved?

It's only when they touch upon the topic of his ability to heal himself that Lara becomes more attentive with her brows creased.

"And if your body was chopped to pieces?"

He looks at her in exasperation and pushes a hand through his hair. She thinks that no one has ever asked him that question, which is weird in her eyes really, because it's vital and can help her keep him alive.

"Nobody's ever tried that."

There is a small blink and raise of eyebrows that make it obvious how interested he is to hear what her response is to that.

She is annoyed by his nonchalance because his survival is not a joke to her – however, she is not annoyed enough to test the theory and find out the answer.

Jacob chuckles and shakes his head, happy that she loves him so much.

Still, she can't get used to trusting Jacob's immortality. She can tell from his actions that he is as liberal with his injuries as she is with hers, ignoring them until they become imperative. But she can also tell that he tries for her benefit as he heals his injuries fast and soundlessly whenever she spots them.

She has lost enough people, and it only makes sense that she has fallen for a man who cannot die. She fears more than anything that the illusion will be broken and her soul shattered.

She has witnessed more unexpected things than that.

However, death is as inevitable as she has learned. And Jacob has made her promise that she must let him be the one to die when the choice finds them.

Apparently, she isn't the only one who has issues losing loved ones.

The day comes when they have known each other for eight years, two months, and ten days and they are both at the gunpoint by a surviving sect of Trinity. They are both waiting on their knees like Jacob and his men back in Siberia.

She can see the tension in his posture that has nothing to do with the gun pointed at his head. He knows the boundaries of his healing, but even so, he is scared that he will fail if the Vicar Mark IV positioned five inches from her forehead is fired.

"Life doesn't stop at death."

Lara knows the words are for her benefit, urging her mind to break its vicious cycle and jump into action when he'll fall to the ground. Because he is scared that his death – even if momentary – will distract her, and she wouldn't be there when he wakes up.

She doesn't freeze though, she never does. And when he charges forward against the soldier, she remains still for the millisecond it takes for the guards to turn to Jacob. Then she grabs the pistol from the soldier in front of her and kills him before Jacob has hit the ground.

She manages to use her first victim and his bulletproof vest as a shield when she shoots the other soldiers in the room.

Jacob has already stilled on the ground by the time she is finished.

His head is covered in blood from the three shots that hit him dead on. Despite knowing that it's useless, Lara checks for a pulse on his neck, and the shaking of her body becomes nearly intolerable when her fears are founded. Fleetingly, she is back at the Manor, finding her father's body with a similar head wound.

She can already hear voices from the hallway.

Unfortunately, she'll have no way to carry Jacob's body out of here and survive.

"Lara, leave my body then. They rarely bother with the dead."

Jacob's words replay in her head, but she isn't going to leave him to wake up here or in some gutter by the road. She takes one last glance at his empty eyes, closes his eyelids, and takes the half-empty magazines while swallowing the bile from her throat.

Her hands are steady though.

She maps the route on her way out – and reverses direction when she has scraped together enough gear. She is determined to show this sect why her name is whispered by many.

True to her word, no one else makes it out alive. They are the victims she offers to whatever God might be listening to her at the moment, and she'll happily exchange them for Jacob's life.

The next night inches forward and she doesn't sleep a wink. Instead, she stares at Jacob's body which she washed away from the drying blood with water from a nearby stream. Her own hands are clean now, but her clothes are painted in red: his and their enemies.

Her thoughts remain disconnected, and she hums to herself a song that Jonah and Abby sing to their kids at night when they have trouble falling asleep in the fear of monsters lurking under their bed. It's simple and comforting, and a mix of different times and cultures from far away like she and Jacob.

Jacob finally takes his first rattling breath as the sun finds its horizon. He raises his hand to inspect his head and asks for her in a voice that is even raspier than normal.

"I'm here," she repeats to him over and over again while crouching to hug his body and kiss the corner of his lips.