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 IV: Merit by Heidi Ahlmen (siirma6@surfeu.fi) =========================================================
Chapter 1
Charles De Gaulle Airport
Paris, France November 27th 1999
Lara Croft entered the plane, and wandered between the seats towards the cockpit. Observing the seat numbers, she moved forward, clutching lightly onto her briefcase and backpack, unstrapped and carried in her hand. She peeked out of the window and saw the familiar sight of bags being transported into the plane.
She returned her mind to the seat numbers again. 27, next to the aisle. As promised. Someone was already sitting on the neighbouring seat, head buried in a magazine.
Lara glanced at the overhead compartment and decided to keep her belongings under the seat or in her lap as usual. In case of emergency she could. Lara snapped out of her thoughts and silenced the tiny voice inside her head giving the usual prep talk of plane security. She sat down and took a politely quick look at her fellow passenger. A woman in her mid-thirties, wearing a knee-length skirt and matching shirt.
She was reading Archaeology Magazine.
Lara had a sudden epiphany.
"Merit?"
The woman raised her gaze from the magazine. A smile lit on her face.
"Lara!"
They shared a warm hug and Merit Hawkes put down her magazine. She had long been included on Lara's short and picky list of closer friends. As the head of the South America department of the British Museum she was also often the person who got to send Lara Croft to places that would have meant certain death for library-oriented archaeologists.
"So," Merit asked, noticing a stitched wound on Lara's throat. "What's the occasion? One doesn't often see Lara Croft boarding a plane in Paris."
"Just a minor hunt. Nothing big." Lara replied, placing her briefcase on the floor.
"Nice touch with the briefcase," Merit joked, "You almost look like an ordinary person."
"Oh, ouch," Lara replied, smirking.
"So, what have you uncovered this time, my dear? I heard something about you and Nessie?"
"Nessie?" Lara was puzzled.
"Loch Ness?" Merit reminded dryly.
"Oh. Umm. well."
"Bigfoot two years ago. Nessie this year. What's on in 2000 - Puff The Magic Dragon?"
"Hardly, Merit. The thing with Nessie was just a. brief encounter."
"Well, what's the big secret then? What is it?"
"Real, to begin with. I won't go into details. I'm not going to be the one they're going to hang for killing the tourism."
Merit grabbed Lara's much-suffered backpack from her lap. "Let's see."
She dug out a large object wrapped in a piece of plastic. "Is this what I think it is?" she asked, after unwrapping the artifact. It was carved of strange, blue stone - carved into the shape of a hand.
"The Hand Of Rathmore," Lara replied, more than a hint of pride in her tone.
"Should've guessed," Merit replied, with a strange look.
"How are you, by the way?" Lara asked and noticed the 'fasten seatbelts' sign blinking. Killing a hint of nervousness, she concentrated on the conversation.
Merit put the artifact back and clicked on her seatbelt. "All the better. If you don't mind me asking, where did that come from?" Merit pointed at Lara's throat.
She shrugged. "You know the drill. Mutant birds. Guards. Bullets. I stitched it myself. Hopefully it won't make a scar."
She never ceased to amaze Merit.
The plane took off. To Lara's annoyance she noticed Merit looking at her carefully.
"Still sitting next to the aisle," she commented.
Lara nodded silently. It was more of a habit. It was a long time since Tibet. It was a long time since everything. But if you started thinking about it, only heartache would follow. Or maybe not heartache. Just a dull awareness of life's imperfections
Half an hour later, Lara and Merit decided on a cup of tea. They had not said a word since takeoff, both obviously tired. The smell of fresh green tea woke Lara from her silent slumber of thoughts.
"You still a bachelorette?" Lara asked, sipping her tea and refusing a cookie the steward was offering.
"More or less." Merit replied, digging her purse.
"What's that supposed to mean?" Lara asked. Merit replied by passing her a photograph.
"That's Samuel. First guy I've met whose sense wasn't damaged in the delivery. Talks about marriage a lot."
Lara laughed. Merit's sense of humor came very close to Lara's aunt's. Sister of her mother, she lived by her paintings on Isle of Wight. Lara made a mental note to call her aunt sometimes in the near future. Near future was all she could promise herself. No-one knew how soon she was leaving home again. Miraculously, two days home seemed to charge her batteries.
"I take it no-one in particular is present in your life?" Merit asked carefully.
"One of these days I'm afraid I have to start watching "Babes In The Wood" in learning purpose."
"You'll meet someone." Merit assured small-talkishly.
"Hardly with my current schedule."
"Some want career, others a family. Every woman has one and wants the other."
"And you're getting both," Lara replied, somehow less bitterly than she would have thought.
Merit ignored her, concentrating on her tea. Lara put away her cup and just sat, tapping her knees with her fingers. After a few minutes she turned to Merit.
"How's Jean?" she asked carefully.
Merit broke to a laugh. "Is that what you've been wanting to ask so badly I can read it in your face?"
"No. The thought just crossed my mind," Lara replied sternly.
"If I didn't know better, listening to the rumours still around at the museum, I'd think you two were an item."
Lara didn't smile back at Merit.
"If I wanted my private life and relationships to be public property, I'd have become a model. Not an archaeologist. I can't believe they're still talking."
"You kidding, woman? They're still congratulating Jean for melting the ice maiden," Merit complained, with the hint of humor in her voice.
"They know nothing about anything," Lara said quietly, unsure why Merit was telling her all this.
"What's to know about?" Merit asked.
"Nothing! Absolutely plain nothing. I haven't seen him for seven years. I haven't talked to him on the phone since the embalming fluid thing."
Merit took a strange look at her. Had it been Lara? No-one still knew. It was like the gost of Anne Boleyn in the Tower - no-one knew if it existed, yet everyone knew something was up there.
A year ago a vial of embalming fluid from an Egyptian tomb - a priceless item - had been stolen from the Natural History Museum. Vanished without a trace. Two guards had been killed and an eyewitness played jokes about someone dressed as Batman.
Nah. Lara stole things, but not from museums. Not for her own reasons - only for the best of society.
Merit shivered at the realization that it could have been Lara. If she ever crossed the line to the wrong side, she would be a thief no-one could catch.
Still. She knew Lara beyond that.
"Let me think. Last time I talked to him was two weeks ago in Brussels. He gave a talk in a conference. He's currently in Alexandria, digging out something in the Catacombs."
Lara became pensive. "Funny you should mention." she mused.
"Yes?"
"My next trip will be to Egypt next month. Maybe I'll go visit."
"Egypt? I have to, again, speak for the museum. You know the drill, as you always say."
Lara sighed, only half pleased of the arrangements. "Trinkets for me, trinkets for the museum, and you make sure I won't be checked at the customs?"
"You got it. That much imperialism is useful - archaeological treasures are safer here."
"You know I still disagree. They belong to their home countries."
"That's the way it goes these days. We can't import anything freely."
"So your little starlet Lara Croft smuggles stuff for you. Bloody genius."
"We couldn't possibly thank you enough for contributing so much to our South America collection."
Lara snorted. "You make me sound like your regular grave robber."
Merit laughed. "That's not quite true." She paused and then continued. "Lara, Lara. Still the pure idealist. Thinks artifacts are better in secret chambers with triggered traps than in London where everyone can come and see them."
Lara grinned. "You know me. When the world runs out of tombs, I'm outta business." Talking mainly to herself, she said; "I have to go and see Jean."
"I'm sure he'd like that," Merit said, something hidden behind her words.
"Why so sure?" Lara asked, not sure what to say. Merit sounded so weird.
-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~
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 IV: Merit by Heidi Ahlmen (siirma6@surfeu.fi) =========================================================
Chapter 1
Charles De Gaulle Airport
Paris, France November 27th 1999
Lara Croft entered the plane, and wandered between the seats towards the cockpit. Observing the seat numbers, she moved forward, clutching lightly onto her briefcase and backpack, unstrapped and carried in her hand. She peeked out of the window and saw the familiar sight of bags being transported into the plane.
She returned her mind to the seat numbers again. 27, next to the aisle. As promised. Someone was already sitting on the neighbouring seat, head buried in a magazine.
Lara glanced at the overhead compartment and decided to keep her belongings under the seat or in her lap as usual. In case of emergency she could. Lara snapped out of her thoughts and silenced the tiny voice inside her head giving the usual prep talk of plane security. She sat down and took a politely quick look at her fellow passenger. A woman in her mid-thirties, wearing a knee-length skirt and matching shirt.
She was reading Archaeology Magazine.
Lara had a sudden epiphany.
"Merit?"
The woman raised her gaze from the magazine. A smile lit on her face.
"Lara!"
They shared a warm hug and Merit Hawkes put down her magazine. She had long been included on Lara's short and picky list of closer friends. As the head of the South America department of the British Museum she was also often the person who got to send Lara Croft to places that would have meant certain death for library-oriented archaeologists.
"So," Merit asked, noticing a stitched wound on Lara's throat. "What's the occasion? One doesn't often see Lara Croft boarding a plane in Paris."
"Just a minor hunt. Nothing big." Lara replied, placing her briefcase on the floor.
"Nice touch with the briefcase," Merit joked, "You almost look like an ordinary person."
"Oh, ouch," Lara replied, smirking.
"So, what have you uncovered this time, my dear? I heard something about you and Nessie?"
"Nessie?" Lara was puzzled.
"Loch Ness?" Merit reminded dryly.
"Oh. Umm. well."
"Bigfoot two years ago. Nessie this year. What's on in 2000 - Puff The Magic Dragon?"
"Hardly, Merit. The thing with Nessie was just a. brief encounter."
"Well, what's the big secret then? What is it?"
"Real, to begin with. I won't go into details. I'm not going to be the one they're going to hang for killing the tourism."
Merit grabbed Lara's much-suffered backpack from her lap. "Let's see."
She dug out a large object wrapped in a piece of plastic. "Is this what I think it is?" she asked, after unwrapping the artifact. It was carved of strange, blue stone - carved into the shape of a hand.
"The Hand Of Rathmore," Lara replied, more than a hint of pride in her tone.
"Should've guessed," Merit replied, with a strange look.
"How are you, by the way?" Lara asked and noticed the 'fasten seatbelts' sign blinking. Killing a hint of nervousness, she concentrated on the conversation.
Merit put the artifact back and clicked on her seatbelt. "All the better. If you don't mind me asking, where did that come from?" Merit pointed at Lara's throat.
She shrugged. "You know the drill. Mutant birds. Guards. Bullets. I stitched it myself. Hopefully it won't make a scar."
She never ceased to amaze Merit.
The plane took off. To Lara's annoyance she noticed Merit looking at her carefully.
"Still sitting next to the aisle," she commented.
Lara nodded silently. It was more of a habit. It was a long time since Tibet. It was a long time since everything. But if you started thinking about it, only heartache would follow. Or maybe not heartache. Just a dull awareness of life's imperfections
Half an hour later, Lara and Merit decided on a cup of tea. They had not said a word since takeoff, both obviously tired. The smell of fresh green tea woke Lara from her silent slumber of thoughts.
"You still a bachelorette?" Lara asked, sipping her tea and refusing a cookie the steward was offering.
"More or less." Merit replied, digging her purse.
"What's that supposed to mean?" Lara asked. Merit replied by passing her a photograph.
"That's Samuel. First guy I've met whose sense wasn't damaged in the delivery. Talks about marriage a lot."
Lara laughed. Merit's sense of humor came very close to Lara's aunt's. Sister of her mother, she lived by her paintings on Isle of Wight. Lara made a mental note to call her aunt sometimes in the near future. Near future was all she could promise herself. No-one knew how soon she was leaving home again. Miraculously, two days home seemed to charge her batteries.
"I take it no-one in particular is present in your life?" Merit asked carefully.
"One of these days I'm afraid I have to start watching "Babes In The Wood" in learning purpose."
"You'll meet someone." Merit assured small-talkishly.
"Hardly with my current schedule."
"Some want career, others a family. Every woman has one and wants the other."
"And you're getting both," Lara replied, somehow less bitterly than she would have thought.
Merit ignored her, concentrating on her tea. Lara put away her cup and just sat, tapping her knees with her fingers. After a few minutes she turned to Merit.
"How's Jean?" she asked carefully.
Merit broke to a laugh. "Is that what you've been wanting to ask so badly I can read it in your face?"
"No. The thought just crossed my mind," Lara replied sternly.
"If I didn't know better, listening to the rumours still around at the museum, I'd think you two were an item."
Lara didn't smile back at Merit.
"If I wanted my private life and relationships to be public property, I'd have become a model. Not an archaeologist. I can't believe they're still talking."
"You kidding, woman? They're still congratulating Jean for melting the ice maiden," Merit complained, with the hint of humor in her voice.
"They know nothing about anything," Lara said quietly, unsure why Merit was telling her all this.
"What's to know about?" Merit asked.
"Nothing! Absolutely plain nothing. I haven't seen him for seven years. I haven't talked to him on the phone since the embalming fluid thing."
Merit took a strange look at her. Had it been Lara? No-one still knew. It was like the gost of Anne Boleyn in the Tower - no-one knew if it existed, yet everyone knew something was up there.
A year ago a vial of embalming fluid from an Egyptian tomb - a priceless item - had been stolen from the Natural History Museum. Vanished without a trace. Two guards had been killed and an eyewitness played jokes about someone dressed as Batman.
Nah. Lara stole things, but not from museums. Not for her own reasons - only for the best of society.
Merit shivered at the realization that it could have been Lara. If she ever crossed the line to the wrong side, she would be a thief no-one could catch.
Still. She knew Lara beyond that.
"Let me think. Last time I talked to him was two weeks ago in Brussels. He gave a talk in a conference. He's currently in Alexandria, digging out something in the Catacombs."
Lara became pensive. "Funny you should mention." she mused.
"Yes?"
"My next trip will be to Egypt next month. Maybe I'll go visit."
"Egypt? I have to, again, speak for the museum. You know the drill, as you always say."
Lara sighed, only half pleased of the arrangements. "Trinkets for me, trinkets for the museum, and you make sure I won't be checked at the customs?"
"You got it. That much imperialism is useful - archaeological treasures are safer here."
"You know I still disagree. They belong to their home countries."
"That's the way it goes these days. We can't import anything freely."
"So your little starlet Lara Croft smuggles stuff for you. Bloody genius."
"We couldn't possibly thank you enough for contributing so much to our South America collection."
Lara snorted. "You make me sound like your regular grave robber."
Merit laughed. "That's not quite true." She paused and then continued. "Lara, Lara. Still the pure idealist. Thinks artifacts are better in secret chambers with triggered traps than in London where everyone can come and see them."
Lara grinned. "You know me. When the world runs out of tombs, I'm outta business." Talking mainly to herself, she said; "I have to go and see Jean."
"I'm sure he'd like that," Merit said, something hidden behind her words.
"Why so sure?" Lara asked, not sure what to say. Merit sounded so weird.
-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~
As always, comments and reviews would be much appreciated - they're the fuel that feeds this creative furnace.
siirma6@surfeu.fi