I am not making any money with this. I do not own Lara Croft, Tomb Raider
etc.
Only to be archived at Fanfiction.net and 'Lara Croft's Tales of Beauty and Power'. All other sites email me first to gain permission.
========================================================= The Last Revelation Part III: Garden of The Five Towers by Heidi Ahlmen (siirma6@surfeu.fi) =========================================================
Chapter 2
Heathrow Airport, London 12th July 1989
"We're acting like tourists," Lara accused.
"Let me just take one more. After all, aren't we going to enjoy the trip as a holiday also?" Jean replied, snapping another picture. Then he put away his camera, and walked behind Lara, resting an assuring hand on her shoulder.
Lara ignored his gesture, and rose from her uncomfortable chair, cursing her slightly too tight jeans. She had virtually forgotten the number one rule of flying; never wear anything tight-fitting. She had been a little nervous that morning - trying to figure out what to wear. 'What to wear for an aeroplane? I must be going bonkers,' she had thought to herself when raiding her wardrobe. She couldn't help but share a slightly embarrassed smile as she realized she was dressing for Jean.
"Not the least - a civil war is still raging and the mines are everywhere. It's a wonder we're even getting in. I'd better get my luggage ready. Did you already check in?"
"I did, actually. Thai Airlines seem to have pretty good service."
Lara read the lightboards, trying to find the right boarding gate. "Tell me about it. They give you a Nintendo to play, but I warn you, Super Mario in full stereo in the middle of the night does not decrease one's level of annoyance."
"Crystal clear," Jean said, grabbing his suitcases and a huge bag of Lara's and wondering why he felt so bossed around again. Lara grabbed a huge crate and the rest of her belongings and so they walked to their gate.
Pulling up the window cover and gazing out to the absolute darkness surrounding the plane, Jean grabbed an advertisement leaflet and started fanning his face with it. It was terribly hot, and the lousy excuse for a coffee the stewardesses had served had made his stomach swirl. He stretched his neck to see further down.
They were flying somewhere above Western Asia. The night had arrived hours earlier, killing all conversation in the plane. The air stewardesses, trying to hide their yawns, had dimmed the lights and started dealing blankets and undersized pillows. Jean was one of the few people still awake, as the time was approaching two in the morning local time wherever behind God's back they were flying. Jean looked at the TV screens near the plane alleys. They showed their location between American and Asian movies shown for the passengers' enjoyment.
Flight time left: 8 hrs Arrival time at destination: 08:34
Jean yawned and waited for the map to come to the screen. That happened in a few minutes. They were indeed already over Asia - over India to be exact. Next to the plane was a circle named Calcutta.
Shaking off sleep from his eyes, Jean was inspired to look out again. If he pressed his nose on the plastic window, he could see blots of light somewhere, thousands of kilometres down. And then - a huge tapestry of lights. A city raging in the night - split in two by a large line of lights. Calcutta and the River Ganges.
Jean wondered in Lara had ever been to India. He felt a sudden urge to take her there sometimes. During his childhood he had visited India numerous times.
Jean turned away from the window and turned to face the alley side of his window seat.
Next to him, fast asleep, was archaeologist Lara Croft. A few locks of her slightly sweaty hair hung on her face, and her curvy frame was spread across five seats. The plane was nowhere near full. It was a routine flight from London to Bangkok, the tourist season was over so the airlines lacked big tourist groups.
Stealing a book she had last been reading from behind her head, Jean settled down more comfortably and prepared to begin reading, still taking occasional glances at his sleeping partner in war and tomb raiding. Every time she moved, Jean paused his reading, scared that he had somehow woken her up. No fear of that. She slept like a log in the plane.
Lara's book was a guidebook to Cambodia, of course. Jean had read articles about the temple of Angkor Wat, but he knew nothing of the country's capital Phnom Penh or the basic facts about the alleged civil war still active in the kingdom.
Something dropped out from the book. A copy of a page from a pharmacology book containing information about required and recommended precautions for tropical diseases in the Cambodian region. A drug had been outlined: doxycycline. Jean wondered why mefloquine, the drug against malaria he was taking, had not been underlined. He made a mental note to ask about it from Lara later. Yawning, Jean-Yves closed the book. He took a quick glance at Lara, stroked her hair slightly, and fell asleep.
Lara Croft was dreaming. Her mind filled with information, her dreams were a mixture of mystery, and facts. Pages of history books were flying in her dreams. Voices whispering. Something of an innuendo warning her she had forgotten something. Hundreds of images. A silent awareness of danger.
Lara woke up seconds later, awakened by an apparent hand on her head. She sat up, yawning and streching, wondering what had startled her. She checked the time from her watch, still too sleepy to realize local London time was not going to help her a tad bit. Tapping her fingers on the seat in front of her, she decided to get a fluid fix. She pressed the call button.
In a few minutes an air steward appeared, smiling graciously to Lara. She stretched and flashed a smile.
"You called, Mam?" The steward, a tall Indian-looking man asked, with a strong accent.
"Yes," Lara begun, leaning closer to read the name tag. "Jab, could you please bring me a glass of water."
"Certainly, Mam." The steward nodded towards Jean-Yves. "Do you think your companion would like something to drink?"
Lara turned to look at Jean. Going through a minor brainstorm, she shook Jean gently. "Jean?" she whispered.
No answer. Lara tugged a little harder. "Jean!"
Jean's slumber was interfered and he woke up. He opened his eyes and found himself staring at the questioning eyes of Lara Croft.
"Morning, sunshine," Lara smiled, blinking. "Something to drink?" she asked, turning towards the air steward, still waiting and smiling as graciously as ever.
"Ahem. perhaps a cup of coffee."
The air steward disappeared. Jean pulled out his tray, and Lara followed his example.
"Did you sleep long?" she asked.
"Actually, I didn't. Just a few minutes."
Lara kept smiling, but her upper lip curved the smile into an apologetic one. "Sorry. I just thought we could go through our travelling plans."
"Sure, as soon as I get my coffee."
Lara dug out a piece of paper from her pocket.
"This is a letter from our, umm, travel agent. Lieutenant Dean Calder."
Jean looked puzzled.
"Thanks to your father and my employer at the British Museum I managed to contact him. He's the son of an American archaeologist working for the museum."
Jean and Lara received their drinks. Lara emptied her glass in a second, as Jean got prepared for a cup of liquid caffeine. Jean was sure Lara had arranged everything ready for them. She needed not explain everything to him. She knew people - even more so than Jean. Her resourcefullness was overwhelming.
Lara crushed her cup, pushed back by Jean's obvious reluctance to listen. Since he'd called her to invite her to Paris she had been a little offended by his almost ignorant silence. Lara wondered why he had left for the trip. In her wildest and most pessimistic dreams Jean was there to steal her prize, but somehow she knew that was not the case. If Jean had taken a liking in her - why wouldn't he say or do anything to indicate it?
She was indeed offended by his behaviour, she had to admit it. Childish, yes, as she would have been perhaps happy with Jean if he had buzzed around her the moment after he'd met her. Like so many guys had done before. Jean seemed always judging her actions, thinking hard what to say and do. Feeling like a teen, Lara found it hard to believe that it was possible that Jean was as insecure as she felt herself be. Knowing this was a simple business trip, she was still aware of nurturing a spiritual box of feelings she wasn't sure she wanted to exist.
Taking a pause to figure whether she was going to just pass the letter to Jean or have a serious conversation with him, Lara started braiding her hair. Suddenly, Jean put down his cup and turned to Lara. The movement was so sudden Lara paused, her hands behind her neck holding half of her hair.
"Yes?" Lara asked, sensing the question needed to be asked.
"Let me." Jean was looking for the word 'braid', but his English went sailing and left him on the beach, ".do that." He finished.
Surprised, Lara measured Jean with her gaze, and then turned her back to her. As if holding a wishbone, he grabbed the locks of hair and started braiding. Lara bended her neck back. "Is this some kind of a bonding ritual?" she asked, then suddenly slapped a hand on her mouth. "I wasn't really supposed to say that," she replied to herself.
Behind her, Jean was smiling. Nonchalant but amused, he asked, "So, what's with our lieutenant?"
Lara tried to turn her head a bit, but her hair was in Jean's tight grip.
"He's arranged us a transport to Siem Reap, two kilometres to the Wat temple plus organized us into a secure hotel in Phnom Penh. Thank you," Lara said silently, as Jean passed her a ready plait. Lara tied it with a ribbon, and then turned to Jean.
Looking into Lara's eyes, Jean said: "Yes, Lara Croft, that was a bonding ritual. I'm hoping that we'll make a good time."
"Time?"
"Pardon. Team," Jean said, cursing his English once again. For his surprise, Lara smiled. Honestly and sweetly.
"Me, too," she replied carefully.
Don Muang Airport, Bangkok 9:01 a.m.
Throwing her bag on the small steel table in the modern ladies' toilet, Lara took a look around. It was morning, usually one of the busiest times of the day for airports, but wonderously, the bathroom was empty. She had left Jean waiting outside after insisting on changing clothes. She had realized the instant they had arrived that her jeans were going to dehydrate her completely with their thickness.
Licking her finger and using it to adjust the shape of her eyebrow, Lara opened her bag. She dug out a Mars bar, a pair of plain khaki shorts and a T-shirt. Plus a pair of hiking boots. And sunglasses.
After stashing down a Mars bar and jumping into her shorts and a scoopneck T-shirt, she lifted her leg on the table to tie her boot laces.
Then the toilet door opened and a cleaning lady, smiling with a hole-filled row of teeth, entered, starting to mop up the place. Lara nodded at her and continued her gymnastic lace-tying moves. She finished and banged her leg off the table, gathering her things. Hurrying to the door, she slipped on the wet floor and ended up sitting on the floor. Cursing her now-aching bottom, she got up and out - after facing the cleaner's amused smile.
Muttering to herself dressed in a full tomb raiding gear, she walked back to Jean. Together they went to look for a porter.
-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~
As always, comments and reviews would be much appreciated - they're the fuel that feeds this creative furnace.
siirma6@surfeu.fi
Only to be archived at Fanfiction.net and 'Lara Croft's Tales of Beauty and Power'. All other sites email me first to gain permission.
========================================================= The Last Revelation Part III: Garden of The Five Towers by Heidi Ahlmen (siirma6@surfeu.fi) =========================================================
Chapter 2
Heathrow Airport, London 12th July 1989
"We're acting like tourists," Lara accused.
"Let me just take one more. After all, aren't we going to enjoy the trip as a holiday also?" Jean replied, snapping another picture. Then he put away his camera, and walked behind Lara, resting an assuring hand on her shoulder.
Lara ignored his gesture, and rose from her uncomfortable chair, cursing her slightly too tight jeans. She had virtually forgotten the number one rule of flying; never wear anything tight-fitting. She had been a little nervous that morning - trying to figure out what to wear. 'What to wear for an aeroplane? I must be going bonkers,' she had thought to herself when raiding her wardrobe. She couldn't help but share a slightly embarrassed smile as she realized she was dressing for Jean.
"Not the least - a civil war is still raging and the mines are everywhere. It's a wonder we're even getting in. I'd better get my luggage ready. Did you already check in?"
"I did, actually. Thai Airlines seem to have pretty good service."
Lara read the lightboards, trying to find the right boarding gate. "Tell me about it. They give you a Nintendo to play, but I warn you, Super Mario in full stereo in the middle of the night does not decrease one's level of annoyance."
"Crystal clear," Jean said, grabbing his suitcases and a huge bag of Lara's and wondering why he felt so bossed around again. Lara grabbed a huge crate and the rest of her belongings and so they walked to their gate.
Pulling up the window cover and gazing out to the absolute darkness surrounding the plane, Jean grabbed an advertisement leaflet and started fanning his face with it. It was terribly hot, and the lousy excuse for a coffee the stewardesses had served had made his stomach swirl. He stretched his neck to see further down.
They were flying somewhere above Western Asia. The night had arrived hours earlier, killing all conversation in the plane. The air stewardesses, trying to hide their yawns, had dimmed the lights and started dealing blankets and undersized pillows. Jean was one of the few people still awake, as the time was approaching two in the morning local time wherever behind God's back they were flying. Jean looked at the TV screens near the plane alleys. They showed their location between American and Asian movies shown for the passengers' enjoyment.
Flight time left: 8 hrs Arrival time at destination: 08:34
Jean yawned and waited for the map to come to the screen. That happened in a few minutes. They were indeed already over Asia - over India to be exact. Next to the plane was a circle named Calcutta.
Shaking off sleep from his eyes, Jean was inspired to look out again. If he pressed his nose on the plastic window, he could see blots of light somewhere, thousands of kilometres down. And then - a huge tapestry of lights. A city raging in the night - split in two by a large line of lights. Calcutta and the River Ganges.
Jean wondered in Lara had ever been to India. He felt a sudden urge to take her there sometimes. During his childhood he had visited India numerous times.
Jean turned away from the window and turned to face the alley side of his window seat.
Next to him, fast asleep, was archaeologist Lara Croft. A few locks of her slightly sweaty hair hung on her face, and her curvy frame was spread across five seats. The plane was nowhere near full. It was a routine flight from London to Bangkok, the tourist season was over so the airlines lacked big tourist groups.
Stealing a book she had last been reading from behind her head, Jean settled down more comfortably and prepared to begin reading, still taking occasional glances at his sleeping partner in war and tomb raiding. Every time she moved, Jean paused his reading, scared that he had somehow woken her up. No fear of that. She slept like a log in the plane.
Lara's book was a guidebook to Cambodia, of course. Jean had read articles about the temple of Angkor Wat, but he knew nothing of the country's capital Phnom Penh or the basic facts about the alleged civil war still active in the kingdom.
Something dropped out from the book. A copy of a page from a pharmacology book containing information about required and recommended precautions for tropical diseases in the Cambodian region. A drug had been outlined: doxycycline. Jean wondered why mefloquine, the drug against malaria he was taking, had not been underlined. He made a mental note to ask about it from Lara later. Yawning, Jean-Yves closed the book. He took a quick glance at Lara, stroked her hair slightly, and fell asleep.
Lara Croft was dreaming. Her mind filled with information, her dreams were a mixture of mystery, and facts. Pages of history books were flying in her dreams. Voices whispering. Something of an innuendo warning her she had forgotten something. Hundreds of images. A silent awareness of danger.
Lara woke up seconds later, awakened by an apparent hand on her head. She sat up, yawning and streching, wondering what had startled her. She checked the time from her watch, still too sleepy to realize local London time was not going to help her a tad bit. Tapping her fingers on the seat in front of her, she decided to get a fluid fix. She pressed the call button.
In a few minutes an air steward appeared, smiling graciously to Lara. She stretched and flashed a smile.
"You called, Mam?" The steward, a tall Indian-looking man asked, with a strong accent.
"Yes," Lara begun, leaning closer to read the name tag. "Jab, could you please bring me a glass of water."
"Certainly, Mam." The steward nodded towards Jean-Yves. "Do you think your companion would like something to drink?"
Lara turned to look at Jean. Going through a minor brainstorm, she shook Jean gently. "Jean?" she whispered.
No answer. Lara tugged a little harder. "Jean!"
Jean's slumber was interfered and he woke up. He opened his eyes and found himself staring at the questioning eyes of Lara Croft.
"Morning, sunshine," Lara smiled, blinking. "Something to drink?" she asked, turning towards the air steward, still waiting and smiling as graciously as ever.
"Ahem. perhaps a cup of coffee."
The air steward disappeared. Jean pulled out his tray, and Lara followed his example.
"Did you sleep long?" she asked.
"Actually, I didn't. Just a few minutes."
Lara kept smiling, but her upper lip curved the smile into an apologetic one. "Sorry. I just thought we could go through our travelling plans."
"Sure, as soon as I get my coffee."
Lara dug out a piece of paper from her pocket.
"This is a letter from our, umm, travel agent. Lieutenant Dean Calder."
Jean looked puzzled.
"Thanks to your father and my employer at the British Museum I managed to contact him. He's the son of an American archaeologist working for the museum."
Jean and Lara received their drinks. Lara emptied her glass in a second, as Jean got prepared for a cup of liquid caffeine. Jean was sure Lara had arranged everything ready for them. She needed not explain everything to him. She knew people - even more so than Jean. Her resourcefullness was overwhelming.
Lara crushed her cup, pushed back by Jean's obvious reluctance to listen. Since he'd called her to invite her to Paris she had been a little offended by his almost ignorant silence. Lara wondered why he had left for the trip. In her wildest and most pessimistic dreams Jean was there to steal her prize, but somehow she knew that was not the case. If Jean had taken a liking in her - why wouldn't he say or do anything to indicate it?
She was indeed offended by his behaviour, she had to admit it. Childish, yes, as she would have been perhaps happy with Jean if he had buzzed around her the moment after he'd met her. Like so many guys had done before. Jean seemed always judging her actions, thinking hard what to say and do. Feeling like a teen, Lara found it hard to believe that it was possible that Jean was as insecure as she felt herself be. Knowing this was a simple business trip, she was still aware of nurturing a spiritual box of feelings she wasn't sure she wanted to exist.
Taking a pause to figure whether she was going to just pass the letter to Jean or have a serious conversation with him, Lara started braiding her hair. Suddenly, Jean put down his cup and turned to Lara. The movement was so sudden Lara paused, her hands behind her neck holding half of her hair.
"Yes?" Lara asked, sensing the question needed to be asked.
"Let me." Jean was looking for the word 'braid', but his English went sailing and left him on the beach, ".do that." He finished.
Surprised, Lara measured Jean with her gaze, and then turned her back to her. As if holding a wishbone, he grabbed the locks of hair and started braiding. Lara bended her neck back. "Is this some kind of a bonding ritual?" she asked, then suddenly slapped a hand on her mouth. "I wasn't really supposed to say that," she replied to herself.
Behind her, Jean was smiling. Nonchalant but amused, he asked, "So, what's with our lieutenant?"
Lara tried to turn her head a bit, but her hair was in Jean's tight grip.
"He's arranged us a transport to Siem Reap, two kilometres to the Wat temple plus organized us into a secure hotel in Phnom Penh. Thank you," Lara said silently, as Jean passed her a ready plait. Lara tied it with a ribbon, and then turned to Jean.
Looking into Lara's eyes, Jean said: "Yes, Lara Croft, that was a bonding ritual. I'm hoping that we'll make a good time."
"Time?"
"Pardon. Team," Jean said, cursing his English once again. For his surprise, Lara smiled. Honestly and sweetly.
"Me, too," she replied carefully.
Don Muang Airport, Bangkok 9:01 a.m.
Throwing her bag on the small steel table in the modern ladies' toilet, Lara took a look around. It was morning, usually one of the busiest times of the day for airports, but wonderously, the bathroom was empty. She had left Jean waiting outside after insisting on changing clothes. She had realized the instant they had arrived that her jeans were going to dehydrate her completely with their thickness.
Licking her finger and using it to adjust the shape of her eyebrow, Lara opened her bag. She dug out a Mars bar, a pair of plain khaki shorts and a T-shirt. Plus a pair of hiking boots. And sunglasses.
After stashing down a Mars bar and jumping into her shorts and a scoopneck T-shirt, she lifted her leg on the table to tie her boot laces.
Then the toilet door opened and a cleaning lady, smiling with a hole-filled row of teeth, entered, starting to mop up the place. Lara nodded at her and continued her gymnastic lace-tying moves. She finished and banged her leg off the table, gathering her things. Hurrying to the door, she slipped on the wet floor and ended up sitting on the floor. Cursing her now-aching bottom, she got up and out - after facing the cleaner's amused smile.
Muttering to herself dressed in a full tomb raiding gear, she walked back to Jean. Together they went to look for a porter.
-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~
As always, comments and reviews would be much appreciated - they're the fuel that feeds this creative furnace.
siirma6@surfeu.fi