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.
Disclaimer, Thank-Yous and some other notes at the end of the story.
========================================================= The Last Revelation Part V: Broken Skies by Heidi Ahlmen (siirma6@surfeu.fi) =========================================================
Chapter 5
Lara checked her watch. It was no use - it had been broken in the fall, and the fluorescent fluid inside that made it shine in the dark had flowed off.
Lara's flare died out, and to her amusement she noticed a stain in her blue top that shone in the darkness with a ghostly green light. So that's where the liquid had flown - she must've had hit the watch in a rock as she fell, and then she'd fallen with her hand on her stomach.
Well, the watch was no use. After lighting the second last flare Lara checked her compass. She was going north - not that it mattered much. She continued forward. The hallway took an upward curve.
On the ground was a torch. Lara decided to save her valuable last flare, so she lit the torch from her burning flare. Advancing along the hallway, she thought about the Egyptians who had built the temple.
First time in a long time, Lara had time to think. To really think.
She was underground - with no visible escape route in sight.
'What's new?' she thought as she walked. Her left leg forced her to take short breaks every once in awhile.
The hallway took another turn. The sound of Lara's footsteps changed. There was sand under her boots. The last time she'd heard the crunching of sand under her steps was in the chamber she had fallen into. The sand had fallen down along with the collapsing rocks. Sand from near an exit - sand from outside.
In Cairo, Jean-Yves woke up suddenly. It was as if his unconscious had delivered a nasty kick in his forehead.
Jean left his bed. Something was wrong. Something didn't fit in with the picture.
After calling Lara's father he'd fallen asleep, just to wake up a half an hour later. He'd dragged himself into bed, reluctant to think about anything.
He should have spared the thought a lot earlier.
Dressing himself in a bathrobe, he grabbed his cellphone and pressed the 'on' button. He entered his code almost too quickly for the phone to understand it, and searched out the memory for the last coming calls.
One was from Britain. One from Alexandria. One from Cairo.
Ignoring the fact that he was definitely waking people up, Jean phoned up the Cairo number.
"This is the embassy of Britain. If you are not in an emergency, please call at our office hours from 9 am to 5 pm. If you are in an emergency, please call this number: 23 4527 3726."
Jean wrote down the number, his hands shaking. He dialled the number.
"Crowley," someone answered in the other end.
"This is Jean-Yves DuCarmine. I spoke to you this evening, there's." Jean was interrupted by John.
"Mr DuCarmine, I understand your situation, but it is in the middle of the night. This number is for emergencies only."
"If mine doesn't count as an emergency, then nothing does. I only need to know one thing."
"Needing to know things is not an emergency," John replied dryly.
Jean ignored him. "I need to know who called you about Lara Croft."
John coughed on the other end. "He didn't give me his name. It was a man, an older man, with a German or Austrian accent."
"Thank you," Jean replied quickly, and switched off the phone. Throwing it on the sofa, he ran to the bedroom of the borrowed apartment he was staying at, he made a world record in speed dressing and grabbed his car keys from the bookshelf.
Von Croy. The rat. He must've lied.
In the temple of Horus, Lara Croft was sitting in a narrow hallway, eating a chocolate bar. Marvelling at the incoherent plot that was her life, she stuffed the plastic wrapping into her shorts pocket, took a sip of water from her bottle, and continued her walk.
She was still going north. Her torch was still burning steadily. Then the hallway changed into a staircase. Realizing she was really getting somewhere, Lara quickened her pace.
Then the hallway ended in a dead end.
Feeling a sudden urge to give it up and cry, Lara quickly looked around her. The panic moved aside.
There was a switch in the wall.
Lara extinguished the torch as she couldn't flip and switch and hold it at the same time. She lit the last flare she'd been saving, and held it in her teeth as she flipped the switch.
There was a sound like thunder. Then a square of ceiling above her started moving.
Suddenly, ten gallons of sand fell down onto her.
Kicking like a drowning woman, Lara tried to free herself. But her efforts were unnecessary. The sand flowed down the stairs, revealing a sight Lara would have paid all the money in the world for.
Night sky.
Without hesitation Lara jumped up, grabbed the edges of the square hole opening to the outside world, and climbed up.
To her left, stood the Sphinx, staring into the horizon as it had stared ages before her. As it - thanks to Lara Croft - was going to guard Egypt until the next millennia. And the millennia after that.
A quiet humming of a car came from a road further away. Lara turned. A lonely Ford was speeding towards the pyramids. It parked near the pyramid area. The driver got out.
The driver didn't bother closing the car door. Lara watched in silence as the man started walking towards the Sphinx. After ten metres he saw her.
And started running.
Jean.
Lara started running towards him.
One day later Moussat Khali Bazaar Tea Room Cairo, Egypt
"You know, there are two people in the world who are going to hate me after hearing this," Jean said, obviously meaning the fact that the Lara Croft sitting on the opposite side of the tea room table was a far from being a ghost than anyone could.
"And who might those be?" Lara asked, taking a bite off her sandwich.
Jean laughed. "The ambassador of Britain and your father."
Lara paused her eating and looked puzzled. She corrected the position of her sunglasses, and took off her hat. She wanted to enjoy the sunlight - a luxury she had not seen for a week. She was wearing a long linen skirt and a black top. She looked at Jean again, her eyes demanding an explanation in the way only Lara Croft's eyes could.
Jean sipped his tea. "I used your emergency number. Cliché, but I thought you were dead."
Lara and Jean shared a laugh.
"It's easier to build a pyramid than to kill Lara Croft," Jean added. "So, I take it you're going to call your father and scare the devil outta him."
"What an exciting day for dear old Dad, finding out her daughter was dead," Lara said sarcastically. "Actually, I won't call him. I don't have a father, remember?"
Jean sighed. "Always the cynic."
Lara smiled. "You know Jean, I bet he'd have accepted our marriage out of the blue back then. Son of a diplomat - his dream son-in-law."
"Don't start," Jean said, smiling lightly. She never failed to amaze him.
"I can't believe I brought the subject up. I must be getting old," she commented, as pushed away her empty plate. "I just heard you've been asking about me every once in awhile," she explained.
"Someone has to keep a count on you, you know."
Lara slapped him playfully on his arm. "Shame on you. I take care of myself."
"I know. I'm just trying to revive your sense of humour."
"I'll show you sense of humour..," Lara joked, finishing her tea.
"If you need a vacation, you can always come and help out in Alexandria. I know a thing like that would be like a holiday for you. Unless you have to do some writing."
"I won't write a book out of this. If I did, I'd be probably considered potential material for a padded cell. I would write a book if anyone believed a word of it."
Jean took a look around him. It was almost noon, the bazaar was full of camel salesmen, begging children, wives shopping and shopkeepers yelling out their exclusive offers. All these people - and no one knew what Lara Croft had done. But perhaps it was for the best.
Jean felt privileged - and annoyed by the fact that he did feel privileged.
Lara stood up, picking up her blazer from the back of the chair. "Thanks for the offer, Jean. I apologise in advance as I have to decline it. We have to go - my plane's leaving in two hours."
"Don't say you already have a job offer waiting."
Lara smiled. When had she become so predictable? "You know me."
A waiter appeared and Jean paid him. "Your bags are in the car - I packed them ready for this morning."
"You're a treasure, Jean," Lara replied as they walked to his car. He opened the door to her and they began the drive to Cairo International Airport.
Lara opened all the windows. Taking advantage of the last chance of enjoying the hot Nile Valley air, she had no doubt in her mind that she would return to Egypt one day.
If the world needed saving ever again, she'd be ready.
~The End~
~Fortune multis dat nimium, satis nulli.~ latin: Fate gives many people too much, but not enough for anyone.
There are a few people I would like to thank, as I finish "The Last Revelation". First of all, this series has been a thrill to write. TR:LR is the most inspiring game I have ever played, and I hope Core will reach its quality in the upcoming TR5.
I've received a lot of help from numerous people - if someone is left out of this list, it is not because his or her help has not been valuable - it is solely up to my poor forgetting mind. The names are not in the form of a ranking list of any sorts.
Ryan Foley. A man of vision, adventure and heroism. Without the inspiration and influence I got from "Wonders of An Ancient Glory" I would never have written this.
Kali & Jeppe, my never-tired editors and helpers. Your praise and constructive criticism made me spot my rabbitholes and fill them up with soil. Now they grow roses ;=)
Tim Radley. "Infestation" taught me a lot about Lara and writing her in action. It also taught me how to create a good, flowing plot. He also helped me with my English, as I am not a native English speaker, and gave invaluable advice concerning this series. I hope I was worth all the trouble.
Bowen H . Greenwood, one the most encouraging and hard-working webmasters I've seen.
This story is not meant to be taken as official fact about Lara Croft or her family. The name of her mother used here is not official. Lara Croft and Jean-Yves is person are owned by Core Design & Eidos Interactive and I have to desire to claim them as my own. I have no idea whatsoever what Lara's aunt's real name is. Whether 'Gillian' is a reference to The X-Files is all up to the reader.
Professors Murray & Sandringham, Merit Hawkes, Mr Ranariddh, Jean's parents, embassador John Crowley, Lieutenant Calder plus all the clerks, salesmen, pyramid gurds, air stewrads and stewardesses are my own creation. Any similarity to living or dead person in the physical world are pure conincidences. None of these characters have living models of any kind.
Thank you for reading this story. If I, as a writer, can one one wish: it would be: write to me. If you liked this, if you didn't, if this raised any comments or questions - throw me with some email. To an author, feedback is the only expected reward for working hard. It keeps us going.
Heidi Ahlmen 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.
Disclaimer, Thank-Yous and some other notes at the end of the story.
========================================================= The Last Revelation Part V: Broken Skies by Heidi Ahlmen (siirma6@surfeu.fi) =========================================================
Chapter 5
Lara checked her watch. It was no use - it had been broken in the fall, and the fluorescent fluid inside that made it shine in the dark had flowed off.
Lara's flare died out, and to her amusement she noticed a stain in her blue top that shone in the darkness with a ghostly green light. So that's where the liquid had flown - she must've had hit the watch in a rock as she fell, and then she'd fallen with her hand on her stomach.
Well, the watch was no use. After lighting the second last flare Lara checked her compass. She was going north - not that it mattered much. She continued forward. The hallway took an upward curve.
On the ground was a torch. Lara decided to save her valuable last flare, so she lit the torch from her burning flare. Advancing along the hallway, she thought about the Egyptians who had built the temple.
First time in a long time, Lara had time to think. To really think.
She was underground - with no visible escape route in sight.
'What's new?' she thought as she walked. Her left leg forced her to take short breaks every once in awhile.
The hallway took another turn. The sound of Lara's footsteps changed. There was sand under her boots. The last time she'd heard the crunching of sand under her steps was in the chamber she had fallen into. The sand had fallen down along with the collapsing rocks. Sand from near an exit - sand from outside.
In Cairo, Jean-Yves woke up suddenly. It was as if his unconscious had delivered a nasty kick in his forehead.
Jean left his bed. Something was wrong. Something didn't fit in with the picture.
After calling Lara's father he'd fallen asleep, just to wake up a half an hour later. He'd dragged himself into bed, reluctant to think about anything.
He should have spared the thought a lot earlier.
Dressing himself in a bathrobe, he grabbed his cellphone and pressed the 'on' button. He entered his code almost too quickly for the phone to understand it, and searched out the memory for the last coming calls.
One was from Britain. One from Alexandria. One from Cairo.
Ignoring the fact that he was definitely waking people up, Jean phoned up the Cairo number.
"This is the embassy of Britain. If you are not in an emergency, please call at our office hours from 9 am to 5 pm. If you are in an emergency, please call this number: 23 4527 3726."
Jean wrote down the number, his hands shaking. He dialled the number.
"Crowley," someone answered in the other end.
"This is Jean-Yves DuCarmine. I spoke to you this evening, there's." Jean was interrupted by John.
"Mr DuCarmine, I understand your situation, but it is in the middle of the night. This number is for emergencies only."
"If mine doesn't count as an emergency, then nothing does. I only need to know one thing."
"Needing to know things is not an emergency," John replied dryly.
Jean ignored him. "I need to know who called you about Lara Croft."
John coughed on the other end. "He didn't give me his name. It was a man, an older man, with a German or Austrian accent."
"Thank you," Jean replied quickly, and switched off the phone. Throwing it on the sofa, he ran to the bedroom of the borrowed apartment he was staying at, he made a world record in speed dressing and grabbed his car keys from the bookshelf.
Von Croy. The rat. He must've lied.
In the temple of Horus, Lara Croft was sitting in a narrow hallway, eating a chocolate bar. Marvelling at the incoherent plot that was her life, she stuffed the plastic wrapping into her shorts pocket, took a sip of water from her bottle, and continued her walk.
She was still going north. Her torch was still burning steadily. Then the hallway changed into a staircase. Realizing she was really getting somewhere, Lara quickened her pace.
Then the hallway ended in a dead end.
Feeling a sudden urge to give it up and cry, Lara quickly looked around her. The panic moved aside.
There was a switch in the wall.
Lara extinguished the torch as she couldn't flip and switch and hold it at the same time. She lit the last flare she'd been saving, and held it in her teeth as she flipped the switch.
There was a sound like thunder. Then a square of ceiling above her started moving.
Suddenly, ten gallons of sand fell down onto her.
Kicking like a drowning woman, Lara tried to free herself. But her efforts were unnecessary. The sand flowed down the stairs, revealing a sight Lara would have paid all the money in the world for.
Night sky.
Without hesitation Lara jumped up, grabbed the edges of the square hole opening to the outside world, and climbed up.
To her left, stood the Sphinx, staring into the horizon as it had stared ages before her. As it - thanks to Lara Croft - was going to guard Egypt until the next millennia. And the millennia after that.
A quiet humming of a car came from a road further away. Lara turned. A lonely Ford was speeding towards the pyramids. It parked near the pyramid area. The driver got out.
The driver didn't bother closing the car door. Lara watched in silence as the man started walking towards the Sphinx. After ten metres he saw her.
And started running.
Jean.
Lara started running towards him.
One day later Moussat Khali Bazaar Tea Room Cairo, Egypt
"You know, there are two people in the world who are going to hate me after hearing this," Jean said, obviously meaning the fact that the Lara Croft sitting on the opposite side of the tea room table was a far from being a ghost than anyone could.
"And who might those be?" Lara asked, taking a bite off her sandwich.
Jean laughed. "The ambassador of Britain and your father."
Lara paused her eating and looked puzzled. She corrected the position of her sunglasses, and took off her hat. She wanted to enjoy the sunlight - a luxury she had not seen for a week. She was wearing a long linen skirt and a black top. She looked at Jean again, her eyes demanding an explanation in the way only Lara Croft's eyes could.
Jean sipped his tea. "I used your emergency number. Cliché, but I thought you were dead."
Lara and Jean shared a laugh.
"It's easier to build a pyramid than to kill Lara Croft," Jean added. "So, I take it you're going to call your father and scare the devil outta him."
"What an exciting day for dear old Dad, finding out her daughter was dead," Lara said sarcastically. "Actually, I won't call him. I don't have a father, remember?"
Jean sighed. "Always the cynic."
Lara smiled. "You know Jean, I bet he'd have accepted our marriage out of the blue back then. Son of a diplomat - his dream son-in-law."
"Don't start," Jean said, smiling lightly. She never failed to amaze him.
"I can't believe I brought the subject up. I must be getting old," she commented, as pushed away her empty plate. "I just heard you've been asking about me every once in awhile," she explained.
"Someone has to keep a count on you, you know."
Lara slapped him playfully on his arm. "Shame on you. I take care of myself."
"I know. I'm just trying to revive your sense of humour."
"I'll show you sense of humour..," Lara joked, finishing her tea.
"If you need a vacation, you can always come and help out in Alexandria. I know a thing like that would be like a holiday for you. Unless you have to do some writing."
"I won't write a book out of this. If I did, I'd be probably considered potential material for a padded cell. I would write a book if anyone believed a word of it."
Jean took a look around him. It was almost noon, the bazaar was full of camel salesmen, begging children, wives shopping and shopkeepers yelling out their exclusive offers. All these people - and no one knew what Lara Croft had done. But perhaps it was for the best.
Jean felt privileged - and annoyed by the fact that he did feel privileged.
Lara stood up, picking up her blazer from the back of the chair. "Thanks for the offer, Jean. I apologise in advance as I have to decline it. We have to go - my plane's leaving in two hours."
"Don't say you already have a job offer waiting."
Lara smiled. When had she become so predictable? "You know me."
A waiter appeared and Jean paid him. "Your bags are in the car - I packed them ready for this morning."
"You're a treasure, Jean," Lara replied as they walked to his car. He opened the door to her and they began the drive to Cairo International Airport.
Lara opened all the windows. Taking advantage of the last chance of enjoying the hot Nile Valley air, she had no doubt in her mind that she would return to Egypt one day.
If the world needed saving ever again, she'd be ready.
~The End~
~Fortune multis dat nimium, satis nulli.~ latin: Fate gives many people too much, but not enough for anyone.
There are a few people I would like to thank, as I finish "The Last Revelation". First of all, this series has been a thrill to write. TR:LR is the most inspiring game I have ever played, and I hope Core will reach its quality in the upcoming TR5.
I've received a lot of help from numerous people - if someone is left out of this list, it is not because his or her help has not been valuable - it is solely up to my poor forgetting mind. The names are not in the form of a ranking list of any sorts.
Ryan Foley. A man of vision, adventure and heroism. Without the inspiration and influence I got from "Wonders of An Ancient Glory" I would never have written this.
Kali & Jeppe, my never-tired editors and helpers. Your praise and constructive criticism made me spot my rabbitholes and fill them up with soil. Now they grow roses ;=)
Tim Radley. "Infestation" taught me a lot about Lara and writing her in action. It also taught me how to create a good, flowing plot. He also helped me with my English, as I am not a native English speaker, and gave invaluable advice concerning this series. I hope I was worth all the trouble.
Bowen H . Greenwood, one the most encouraging and hard-working webmasters I've seen.
This story is not meant to be taken as official fact about Lara Croft or her family. The name of her mother used here is not official. Lara Croft and Jean-Yves is person are owned by Core Design & Eidos Interactive and I have to desire to claim them as my own. I have no idea whatsoever what Lara's aunt's real name is. Whether 'Gillian' is a reference to The X-Files is all up to the reader.
Professors Murray & Sandringham, Merit Hawkes, Mr Ranariddh, Jean's parents, embassador John Crowley, Lieutenant Calder plus all the clerks, salesmen, pyramid gurds, air stewrads and stewardesses are my own creation. Any similarity to living or dead person in the physical world are pure conincidences. None of these characters have living models of any kind.
Thank you for reading this story. If I, as a writer, can one one wish: it would be: write to me. If you liked this, if you didn't, if this raised any comments or questions - throw me with some email. To an author, feedback is the only expected reward for working hard. It keeps us going.
Heidi Ahlmen Siirma6@surfeu.fi