A/N: Chapter one, as promised. Reviews and comments are appreciated, flamers, however, are not. If something about my story bugs you, feel free to mention it; I'll take any constructive criticism you guys have. I'd like a legitimate reason for any critcism, though, not just an 'Oh your story majorly sucks.' 'Kay? Thanks, guys. :) Hope you enjoy.
Chapter One
________________________________________________________________________
Old Friends
Streets
Paris, London August 5th, 2003
Within the sanctuary of his palm, fire sprang briefly to life, its tendrils flaming brilliantly against the ebony of night for a single moment. Its heat nipped masculine fingers, a welcome relief to the chill darkness thrusting in from all sides.
He fumbled for a second in the right front pocket of the loose jeans he wore, and withdrew the ever-present package of cigarettes, tugging one from the crinkling depths and replacing the pack once more. He touched the cigarette's end to the lighter cradled from the slight breeze tousling dark hair, and snapped it closed as the flame took to tightly rolled paper.
The smoke lightly caressed his willing throat.
He savored its familiar taste before reluctantly pursing lips to expel it into the surrounding dark, scratching absently at the back of his neck.
He'd been searching for her a few weeks now, after recovering from the little Boaz episode, and found that her trail was a surprisingly difficult one to uncover. Apparently, the woman was as good at covering up her tracks as she was attractive.
*And that little observation wasn't supposed to slip in there.* he thought ruefully, setting one strong shoulder against the darkened building at his back. An apartment building, or so he cleverly deduced from the wooden sign swaying not far above proclaiming so. The lights within had long since darkened, and the young man had no worries about being observed by or disturbing the building's occupants.
Now he watched, the intensity of his gaze nearly sheathed by renegade bangs.
Her lithe body curved softly beneath snug jeans and the secure embrace of a gray tank top, the form-fitting piece of material baring toned and slender arms, and also a tanned, taut strip of abdomen which he found enticing. Dark locks tumbled as a silken waterfall over softly rounded shoulders, bound in a familiar braid which caused his heart to thump briefly in recognition. Her boots tread glistening pavement lightly, the sound buried beneath drumming precipitation.
She was his, finally. After weeks of fruitless country-hopping and a few encounters with old...friends in pursuit of this enigmatic woman, he'd now found her again, in the same place he'd first laid eyes on her luscious figure.
He smiled slightly as she ascended a staircase to a waiting door.
She thrust the door wide without knocking, and slipped inside.
He straightened, and the cigarette plunged to a quick death, ground swiftly beneath the heel of one boot.
* * *
"I'm looking for a...friend."
"A...friend? Don't tell me Lara Croft's searching for some long-lost lover because she's finally decided to settle down and get married and pop out a couple a' kids."
Full lips curved in a smirk. "Don't be ridiculous, you hairy little beast. I don't want to marry the man, and I particularly don't want to turn out a couple of brats fathered by him. I have something that belongs to him, and I thought you might be able to help me out in locating him."
She propped booted feet on the wooden table before her, the shabby piece of furniture one of only a few which littered the small room, testament to the hard times on which he'd fallen. Daniel Grosser looked little better than the room itself; he possessed ash-blonde hair, once neatly cut and tousled to lend a sexy air to an altogether fat and unattractive man. Now it lingered in greasy strands against a high forehead, shading verdant orbs beneath their thickness. A stench of unknown origin (well, she had a guess as to where it originated, such a conclusion not too difficult considering his uncleanly state,) wafted to caress sensitive nostrils.
He sought her eyes with his own.
She arched a slender eyebrow. "Daniel, a word of advice from a friend: bathing will not harm you, and it might actually help in securing some new friends once you no longer smell like a wet dog whose gotten his jollies rolling around in a pile of garbage."
He shrugged. "Water's not working. It quit yesterday; don't know what the hell's wrong."
"That smell's accumulated over more than a day."
"You're a sweetheart, Lara. Do you really think the best way to get someone to help you is by insulting them?"
"Threatening works rather well, too, I've noticed."
He rolled his eyes, and crossed both arms over a pudgy stomach sheathed by the loose black T-shirt he'd donned that morning over boxer shorts, its exterior marred by the remnants of his dinner. "So who's this friend you're after?"
"A man."
"Well, yeah, I figured out that much. But I need a little more to go on than 'a man.'"
"You're a funny little fuck, aren't you, Daniel."
"Most people tell me so. So what's his name?"
"Kur-" Her gaze fell on the open window, the wide slit encompassing driving rainwater. The scent of nighttime Paris thrust into the tiny apartment, writhing now within her keen nose. She stood, slowly, lethargically, cupping the butt of the pistol holstered to her right leg in a small palm.
"Lara?"
Mahogany orbs narrowed beneath thick lashes, converging on the slender opening.
"Lara?" Daniel prompted once more, wary now.
"Do you make it a habit of always leaving your windows open, Daniel? Paris is a dangerous place, you know. Serial killers, robbers. Lots of unsavory types in Paris." Her mouth curved slightly. "I'm assuming it's why you live here."
"Too damn hot in here with the window closed." he replied as she reluctantly seated herself. "Besides, there hasn't been a Monstrum attack in a long time, thank God. Guy was seriously fucking with people's nerves, whoever he was."
"Quite." she murmured, and pictured him now, convulsing beneath the protruding shaft of a Periapt shard, the crystal's dagger-like blade thrusting bone and flesh, shredding brain as it came to a final rest within Eckhardt's skull.
He clung panting to the drainpipe's slick exterior, saturated clothes molding to taut muscles. His lips parted in slightly ragged breath, the arduous climb disturbing the old wound in his stomach more than he would have guessed.
The moon drifted overhead with the lightness of a passing spirit, illuminating his figure for a single moment beneath its effulgent touch. He tightened white-knuckled fingers against glistening steel, and heaved himself upward another foot, the entire structure clanging lightly in protest.
He ascended only a few more feet, grunting quietly as he climbed. Then, pausing again, he stepped gratefully to the waiting ledge, and dropped instantly to a crouch. Above, her lithe form sheathed his hunched figure in blackness, the shadow swallowing his entire body for a second.
Silently, he loosened the pistol dangling at his side.
Her shadow dissipated, leaving him bathed only in moonlight now.
The refrigerator's light hummed to life as she nudged its door wide, painting beautiful features in golden light. Its offerings seemed pitifully paltry; nothing more than a few jars of various condiments, a moldy sack of grapes, a half-eaten apple and several TV dinners sprinkling its nearly bare shelves. He had, of course, managed to obtain two six packs of beer despite his apparent poverty.
Lara smiled briefly, and shook her head. She snapped two cans free of the nearest pack, and spun on a heel, tossing one to his waiting fingers. "I see you managed to afford a couple of cases of beer even though you probably hardly have any money for food."
He popped the top, and the can ascended to thin lips. "Not mine. Guy who's staying with me said I need some booze in this little shithole. Don't know where the hell he's gone off to. He disappeared about noon today and hasn't been back since."
"Sounds like a charming man." She took a sip from the frosty can cradled within leather-sheathed fingers, and grimaced. "With an apparent lack of taste in beverages."
"He comes and goes. Showed up one day and said he needed a place to stay for a little while, while he worked something out. I met him a few years ago, but I hadn't seen him since, so I was kinda' surprised. But, I figured, what the hell. He can help out with the rent."
"You pay rent for this scuzzy place?"
"If I want to keep my nice little ass from getting thrown out on the street, I do."
" 'Nice, little' being synonyms for disgustingly huge?" she asked sweetly,quirking an eyebrow.
He thrust a finger up at her and took a long drink.
"I shouldn't stay long, so now that we're done pissing around, I'll get to the point. I've been looking for this man for quite some time now, without any luck. There's a chance he could even be dead, but I think he's still lurking somewhere."
"Lurking, eh? I thought you said this guy was a friend. Normally, people don't make references to their friends 'lurking'." His brow rippled in lines of agitation. "Then again, I forgot who I'm talking to."
"I'm not sure 'friend' is exactly the right word for him, but for lack of anything better to call him, besides 'dickhead,' we'll stick with that."
"So how long has it been since you've seen good ol' dickhead?"
"About two months. The trail could to be quite cold by now, but you're the best man I know for this sort of thing. I'm willing to pay you, of course, and from the looks of things you could really use some cash."
"Not going to argue with that."
"So we have a deal then?"
"Sure. Just give me his name, and whatever information you have on the guy."
"His name's Kurtis Trent, but as for information I don't have much in the way of that. Late twenties, early thirties, probably. I'd say about 5' 11", maybe 6,' well-built, with dark hair cut short and bangs. Blue eyes. Very blue, actually, probably his most distinctive feature."
Daniel, listening to all this as he drank, suddenly pitched forward, a ragged cough thrusting from between parted lips. The froth of his beverage foamed thick against slick lips, traversing an unshaven beard to patter lightly against threadbare carpet. "Sorry, you said 'Kurtis Trent' right?"
"Yes." She perused him through dark eyes. "That's not going to be a problem, now, is it?"
"Oh, I don't think so." He flashed surprisingly white teeth at his guest.
"You know him." There was nothing questioning present within the tone of her voice.
"Yeah, I know him."
"Then do you know where he is? Right now?"
"Possibly."
"And would you *possibly* like to share this information with me?"
"Hey, Lara, you know how this works. No cash, no guy."
Her face hardened suddenly, all warmth dissipating with an abruptness that would have paced him back a step, had he been standing. She leaned her elbows on shapely knees, resting her chin within both gloved palms. "Daniel, Daniel, Daniel. Greediness is not a trait I admire, as you are no doubt aware. If you know where Kurtis is, then you don't have to go to the trouble of finding him, which means there is no job. Which means there is no reason for me to pay you."
"Come on, Lara. You see how bad I'm doin'. You don't want to leave a friend hanging, do you? I just need some cash, a little to tide me over until I can find another job." His eyes pleaded with her.
She softened, and stood. "Then you'll tell me how to contact Kurtis, if I grease your palm a little?"
"Sure. No problem, no problem at all."
"Fine then." From the back pocket of her jeans, she withdrew a wad of bills, and rifled their thickness for a moment before peeling several off.
His gaze lingered almost lovingly on the bills as they passed to his hands, and he savored their touch as they fluttered against pale flesh. His fingertips lightly caressed rich paper, the scent of money awakening a lust deep within. "Thanks Lara." he said softly, rising as well. "This'll really help me out, especially pooled with the money he paid me."
"He? Kurtis?"
"Not quite."
The door exploded inward, plunged from rusting hinges by a powerful kick. She spun, thrusting her weapon free of its restraints, the barrel surging to target this unexpected threat.
They flowed inside, shoulders bowed beneath the weight of heavy weaponry, all clutching automatics in darkly garbed hands. Once inside, they fanned out, seven in all, too many for her to just begin blasting away and still escape in one piece.
Her throat pulsed in rapid breath, now slick beneath a layer of perspiration. "What the hell is this?" she hissed to her friend, keeping her .45 automatic trained on the man nearest her.
"Look, Lara, I'm sorry. But this guy called a few days ago, offering big money if I could get you for him. I owe money, Lara. To guys who mean business. If I hadn't agreed, I'd be totally fucked now. These guys want their money, and if I don't pay up, they'll slit my throat."
"Well, that's really too bad, now, isn't it." she replied coldly, rage heating chill flesh. "Unfortunately, you're still totally fucked."
And the barrel of her pistol spun now to him, the sights nicely lined up with his hooked nose.
Footsteps transcended even the steady roar of precipitation, the treading of heavy boots ringing loudly in his ears. He plunged upright, the pistol now gripped securely in both hands, out before him as he moved nearer to the window.
"Shit." he murmured, his gaze perusing the scene within. He should have extracted her sooner; a safe getaway would be exceedingly more difficult now, with seven trigger-happy bastards surrounding her. Not impossible, but certainly difficult. And he had a sinking feeling that one or both of them might have a few more holes in their bodies by the time this damn night ended.
She stood tensed, muscles coiled in preparation to flee at the first opportunity. His eyes traced the curves of her body for a moment, and he caught the fullness of his bottom lip in gnawing teeth. He glanced to the window again, and the gun drooped ever-so-slightly.
Fluttering lashes sheathed the intensity of his gaze.
Both palms uncurled, laid bare to the elements. His gun slipped free, snagged at the last moment on his index finger, dangling precariously by the trigger guard.
He felt the power build within him, and unleashed it.
She ducked instinctively as the window erupted in a froth of tinkling shards, collapsing as a glittering river to the floor. The echoing thunder of gunfire stretched long through the cramped apartment, exploding painfully loud against her ears.
Two of the men dropped, their gore painting the surrounding walls.
Beneath the chaos following this obviously unplanned occurrence, she heard his voice.
"Come on!"
Lara whirled, and leapt for the gaping hole, her feet touching down briefly against its sill before the chill of night rushed in from all sides to embrace her. Her knees buckled for a moment, absorbing the shock of a firm landing, and she felt his strong arm briefly encircle her waist, reinforcing her balance.
"Up." he said, and swiftly holstered his weapon, lacing both hands.
She stepped without hesitation into them, thinking for a moment of the familiarity of this move. Then he launched her into the night sky, and she felt the hardness of the roof's tiles pressed all along her.
*Going to be a bruise there in the morning.*
Gunfire laced the night.
She heard him grunt, and now he thrust himself straight up, groping for a handhold on the roof's edge. Her fingers slipped over his own, twining around both wrists, arm muscles bunching as she hauled back.
He pushed off the building's side, a stray bullet tearing the drainpipe he'd scaled free of hard brick. His eyes tracked its descent, widening slightly, and then his body cleared their sights. He stumbled to his feet, and felt the warmth of her hand present at his left shoulder, her palm cupped to staunch carmine fluid.
*I knew someone was going to get shot.* His fingers closed hard around her forearm. "Go! You can feel me up as soon as these guys stop trying to use us as target practice."
"I'd rather just stay here and let them shoot me full of holes if the alternative is feeling you up." she shot back, somewhat irritably as he clasped her arm and flung her halfway across the roof. The momentum of his shove hurtled her toward the building's edge, and she surged into the air, coming down hard on the next building over.
He landed beside her a moment later, and they moved as one now, sprinting recklessly, arms pumping at either side, sweat flowing thick.
"Right." he yelled.
"What?"
"I said right! Turn right!"
"Well I don't know if you happened to notice this or not, but turning right leads to a dead end, as in we plunge to nasty deaths over the side of the building."
"My bike's down there."
"Oh. Well that's so much better; it'll get a brand new paint job when our guts explode all over it, no extra charge."
A bullet sparked off the roof, passing precariously close to his drumming feet. "Looks like our friends are bringing the party up here." His movements never ceased, and now he reached out, setting both hands against her back as she crossed slightly in front of him.
His mighty push thrust her into thin air.
She had a single moment to picture the gleeful way she would haunt and torture him when her spirit rose from the destroyed husk of her body before her boots touched rough canvas and her body tilted backward, depositing Lara with a muttered curse on her ass. The canvas awning upon which she now perched bucked in protest, thrusting her to its edge.
It trembled once more, tossing her clear, only a last frantic grab securing her position. She swayed above glistening pavement, her gaze drifting to the motorbike gleaming in silent wait below.
He slipped past her, and the resounding thud of his boots kissing cement rose above the storm's fury.
She released her grasp on the canvas as the bike thrummed to life, and stumbled slightly on the landing, plunging out a hand to steady herself.
He twisted at the waist and jerked his chin. "Take a ride with me, why dontcha'?" His lips curved in a slight smirk.
"I thought you'd never ask, Kurtis."
* * *
Its tires thrummed quietly against the glistening black river of Paris's streets, lifting a haze of liquid to settle as a damp veil over both shivering bodies. She pressed herself closer to him, but he offered little warmth, his clothes just as saturated as her own,
dark hair tousled and gleaming beneath the tempest overhead.
The darkness parted before them, reaching to willingly embrace Lara and Kurtis as they threaded empty roads.
His scent invaded her nostrils, clean and masculine, one that seemed strangely familiar despite the fact that she'd previously only known him for two days, and hadn't set eyes on him in a couple of months. She breathed it in, welcoming this new smell, an appreciated reprieve from the bike's exhaust.
To her right, darkened buildings slipped anonymously by, no sign of life within most of them at this late hour.
He pulled into an alleyway an hour after their hurried retreat.
The engine's rumbling purr faded into reluctant oblivion.
She removed her hands from his waist, fingertips skimming a strong and damp back before pulling away entirely. They perched in silence for a moment, inhaling the night's sweet perfume, their breaths twining as one as he turned to face her.
Kurtis swung a leg over his motorcycle's bulk, and shifted so they sat knee to knee, jean caressing jean.
"So Lara, am I the first dickhead to rescue you?"
"Yes; I associate with plenty of dickheads, but I shoot most of them before they have the chance to rescue me."
He smiled, a sparkling warmth now present within cerulean orbs. "Then you're probably glad you didn't blow my head off when you had the chance."
"We'll see."
"You have something of mine."
"Yes, and since you must have been eavesdropping outside the window the whole time, you no doubt are aware that I was looking for you so I could give it back. I collected it from our friend Boaz's lair."
Instinctively, he lightly touched the freshly-healed wound in his gut, treading fingertips over the slightly puckered flesh of the scar which had been left behind as testament to his impaling, as though he really needed something to remember it.
Lara followed his unconscious movement, then nodded to his shoulder. "You're bleeding."
"Just nicked me; I'll wrap it and it'll be good as new in a couple a' days." He looked at her. "You got a place to stay?"
"No. I just arrived in Paris earlier tonight and went straight to Daniel Grosser's. I was planning on getting a hotel room, staying a few days, then following up on whatever information he could provide me with as to your whereabouts. Unfortunately, it looks like I might be spending the night on the streets; I brought only cash, and dropped that back at Daniel's when his little SWAT team burst inside."
"Ever heard of a credit card, lady?"
"Ever heard of shutting your mouth when your opinion's not welcome?" Lara snapped.
He thrust up both hands in acquiescence. "No need to get touchy, *Ms.* Croft. I have some euros on me. We can find a motel. Just as soon as you kindly return my Chirugai to me."
"If that was supposed to be a clever reference to a certain part of your anatomy, I haven't taken it in the first place, so if there's a hand on it trying to steal it away, then it's your own."
"It wasn't."
His eyes fell upon the coveted object, and one hand trailed up her sodden thigh to snatch the disk clipped to the belt threading her lithe waist. He held it up before her. "*This* is a Chirugai."
"Ah, the thing you tried to cut my head off with back at the Lourve. Another ancient weapon of the Lux Veritatis?"
"Yes. But slightly more modern than the Periapt Shards." His fingers stirred lightly against the toned flesh of her leg, only the clinging jeans she wore separating his skin from her own. "And as to gripping certain parts of my anatomy, I'm not really into that."
"Good to know." she replied, and smiled. "You said something about a motel room? Was that just an attempt to seduce me, or a sincere offer? Because in case you hadn't noticed, it's bloody cold out here, and a lady's prone to freezing off certain parts of her anatomy when the temperature drops."
He tossed her a sarcastic, two-fingered salute. "Well as long as you're uncomfortable, of course we'll leave right away."
"It's dangerous to mock a woman whose just been betrayed by a friend, is soaking wet, and sharing air space with an infuriating idiot to boot."
"That's not a very nice thing to say about the guy who just rescued you, now is it, Lara?"
"I still haven't forgiven you for stealing my painting. I went to a lot of trouble to pick it up. Not to mention, you took my weapons from me." She shook a finger at him. "That wasn't a very thoughtful thing to do, Kurtis. I've got half a mind to disarm you and ride your little toy off into the distance. See how you like it."
"Then you wouldn't have a place to stay." he said coolly.
They studied one another a moment, no animosity in either gaze despite the rather harsh words exchanged. Then his mouth curved in the sardonic half-smile she'd already begun to associate with him, and he reached behind him to snatch his key from the ignition. "Well come on, then, Lara." He dismounted. "There's a place just up the street from here. I'll leave the bike parked here, in case our new friends come looking for us and recognize it."
She rose to join him.
"We can catch up, maybe drink a cup of tea together or something. Isn't that what you Brits do? Talk and drink tea?"
"Yes. And shoot nasty little men who make fun of us." Lara responded, tapping him gently under the chin with one slender finger. "And I prefer coffee. But if you'd like to indulge in a pansy beverage from time to time, I'm not going to spill such a deep dark secret to the tabloids."
Kurtis smirked, and pocketed his keys. He had a feeling he was going to like this woman.
Chapter One
________________________________________________________________________
Old Friends
Streets
Paris, London August 5th, 2003
Within the sanctuary of his palm, fire sprang briefly to life, its tendrils flaming brilliantly against the ebony of night for a single moment. Its heat nipped masculine fingers, a welcome relief to the chill darkness thrusting in from all sides.
He fumbled for a second in the right front pocket of the loose jeans he wore, and withdrew the ever-present package of cigarettes, tugging one from the crinkling depths and replacing the pack once more. He touched the cigarette's end to the lighter cradled from the slight breeze tousling dark hair, and snapped it closed as the flame took to tightly rolled paper.
The smoke lightly caressed his willing throat.
He savored its familiar taste before reluctantly pursing lips to expel it into the surrounding dark, scratching absently at the back of his neck.
He'd been searching for her a few weeks now, after recovering from the little Boaz episode, and found that her trail was a surprisingly difficult one to uncover. Apparently, the woman was as good at covering up her tracks as she was attractive.
*And that little observation wasn't supposed to slip in there.* he thought ruefully, setting one strong shoulder against the darkened building at his back. An apartment building, or so he cleverly deduced from the wooden sign swaying not far above proclaiming so. The lights within had long since darkened, and the young man had no worries about being observed by or disturbing the building's occupants.
Now he watched, the intensity of his gaze nearly sheathed by renegade bangs.
Her lithe body curved softly beneath snug jeans and the secure embrace of a gray tank top, the form-fitting piece of material baring toned and slender arms, and also a tanned, taut strip of abdomen which he found enticing. Dark locks tumbled as a silken waterfall over softly rounded shoulders, bound in a familiar braid which caused his heart to thump briefly in recognition. Her boots tread glistening pavement lightly, the sound buried beneath drumming precipitation.
She was his, finally. After weeks of fruitless country-hopping and a few encounters with old...friends in pursuit of this enigmatic woman, he'd now found her again, in the same place he'd first laid eyes on her luscious figure.
He smiled slightly as she ascended a staircase to a waiting door.
She thrust the door wide without knocking, and slipped inside.
He straightened, and the cigarette plunged to a quick death, ground swiftly beneath the heel of one boot.
* * *
"I'm looking for a...friend."
"A...friend? Don't tell me Lara Croft's searching for some long-lost lover because she's finally decided to settle down and get married and pop out a couple a' kids."
Full lips curved in a smirk. "Don't be ridiculous, you hairy little beast. I don't want to marry the man, and I particularly don't want to turn out a couple of brats fathered by him. I have something that belongs to him, and I thought you might be able to help me out in locating him."
She propped booted feet on the wooden table before her, the shabby piece of furniture one of only a few which littered the small room, testament to the hard times on which he'd fallen. Daniel Grosser looked little better than the room itself; he possessed ash-blonde hair, once neatly cut and tousled to lend a sexy air to an altogether fat and unattractive man. Now it lingered in greasy strands against a high forehead, shading verdant orbs beneath their thickness. A stench of unknown origin (well, she had a guess as to where it originated, such a conclusion not too difficult considering his uncleanly state,) wafted to caress sensitive nostrils.
He sought her eyes with his own.
She arched a slender eyebrow. "Daniel, a word of advice from a friend: bathing will not harm you, and it might actually help in securing some new friends once you no longer smell like a wet dog whose gotten his jollies rolling around in a pile of garbage."
He shrugged. "Water's not working. It quit yesterday; don't know what the hell's wrong."
"That smell's accumulated over more than a day."
"You're a sweetheart, Lara. Do you really think the best way to get someone to help you is by insulting them?"
"Threatening works rather well, too, I've noticed."
He rolled his eyes, and crossed both arms over a pudgy stomach sheathed by the loose black T-shirt he'd donned that morning over boxer shorts, its exterior marred by the remnants of his dinner. "So who's this friend you're after?"
"A man."
"Well, yeah, I figured out that much. But I need a little more to go on than 'a man.'"
"You're a funny little fuck, aren't you, Daniel."
"Most people tell me so. So what's his name?"
"Kur-" Her gaze fell on the open window, the wide slit encompassing driving rainwater. The scent of nighttime Paris thrust into the tiny apartment, writhing now within her keen nose. She stood, slowly, lethargically, cupping the butt of the pistol holstered to her right leg in a small palm.
"Lara?"
Mahogany orbs narrowed beneath thick lashes, converging on the slender opening.
"Lara?" Daniel prompted once more, wary now.
"Do you make it a habit of always leaving your windows open, Daniel? Paris is a dangerous place, you know. Serial killers, robbers. Lots of unsavory types in Paris." Her mouth curved slightly. "I'm assuming it's why you live here."
"Too damn hot in here with the window closed." he replied as she reluctantly seated herself. "Besides, there hasn't been a Monstrum attack in a long time, thank God. Guy was seriously fucking with people's nerves, whoever he was."
"Quite." she murmured, and pictured him now, convulsing beneath the protruding shaft of a Periapt shard, the crystal's dagger-like blade thrusting bone and flesh, shredding brain as it came to a final rest within Eckhardt's skull.
He clung panting to the drainpipe's slick exterior, saturated clothes molding to taut muscles. His lips parted in slightly ragged breath, the arduous climb disturbing the old wound in his stomach more than he would have guessed.
The moon drifted overhead with the lightness of a passing spirit, illuminating his figure for a single moment beneath its effulgent touch. He tightened white-knuckled fingers against glistening steel, and heaved himself upward another foot, the entire structure clanging lightly in protest.
He ascended only a few more feet, grunting quietly as he climbed. Then, pausing again, he stepped gratefully to the waiting ledge, and dropped instantly to a crouch. Above, her lithe form sheathed his hunched figure in blackness, the shadow swallowing his entire body for a second.
Silently, he loosened the pistol dangling at his side.
Her shadow dissipated, leaving him bathed only in moonlight now.
The refrigerator's light hummed to life as she nudged its door wide, painting beautiful features in golden light. Its offerings seemed pitifully paltry; nothing more than a few jars of various condiments, a moldy sack of grapes, a half-eaten apple and several TV dinners sprinkling its nearly bare shelves. He had, of course, managed to obtain two six packs of beer despite his apparent poverty.
Lara smiled briefly, and shook her head. She snapped two cans free of the nearest pack, and spun on a heel, tossing one to his waiting fingers. "I see you managed to afford a couple of cases of beer even though you probably hardly have any money for food."
He popped the top, and the can ascended to thin lips. "Not mine. Guy who's staying with me said I need some booze in this little shithole. Don't know where the hell he's gone off to. He disappeared about noon today and hasn't been back since."
"Sounds like a charming man." She took a sip from the frosty can cradled within leather-sheathed fingers, and grimaced. "With an apparent lack of taste in beverages."
"He comes and goes. Showed up one day and said he needed a place to stay for a little while, while he worked something out. I met him a few years ago, but I hadn't seen him since, so I was kinda' surprised. But, I figured, what the hell. He can help out with the rent."
"You pay rent for this scuzzy place?"
"If I want to keep my nice little ass from getting thrown out on the street, I do."
" 'Nice, little' being synonyms for disgustingly huge?" she asked sweetly,quirking an eyebrow.
He thrust a finger up at her and took a long drink.
"I shouldn't stay long, so now that we're done pissing around, I'll get to the point. I've been looking for this man for quite some time now, without any luck. There's a chance he could even be dead, but I think he's still lurking somewhere."
"Lurking, eh? I thought you said this guy was a friend. Normally, people don't make references to their friends 'lurking'." His brow rippled in lines of agitation. "Then again, I forgot who I'm talking to."
"I'm not sure 'friend' is exactly the right word for him, but for lack of anything better to call him, besides 'dickhead,' we'll stick with that."
"So how long has it been since you've seen good ol' dickhead?"
"About two months. The trail could to be quite cold by now, but you're the best man I know for this sort of thing. I'm willing to pay you, of course, and from the looks of things you could really use some cash."
"Not going to argue with that."
"So we have a deal then?"
"Sure. Just give me his name, and whatever information you have on the guy."
"His name's Kurtis Trent, but as for information I don't have much in the way of that. Late twenties, early thirties, probably. I'd say about 5' 11", maybe 6,' well-built, with dark hair cut short and bangs. Blue eyes. Very blue, actually, probably his most distinctive feature."
Daniel, listening to all this as he drank, suddenly pitched forward, a ragged cough thrusting from between parted lips. The froth of his beverage foamed thick against slick lips, traversing an unshaven beard to patter lightly against threadbare carpet. "Sorry, you said 'Kurtis Trent' right?"
"Yes." She perused him through dark eyes. "That's not going to be a problem, now, is it?"
"Oh, I don't think so." He flashed surprisingly white teeth at his guest.
"You know him." There was nothing questioning present within the tone of her voice.
"Yeah, I know him."
"Then do you know where he is? Right now?"
"Possibly."
"And would you *possibly* like to share this information with me?"
"Hey, Lara, you know how this works. No cash, no guy."
Her face hardened suddenly, all warmth dissipating with an abruptness that would have paced him back a step, had he been standing. She leaned her elbows on shapely knees, resting her chin within both gloved palms. "Daniel, Daniel, Daniel. Greediness is not a trait I admire, as you are no doubt aware. If you know where Kurtis is, then you don't have to go to the trouble of finding him, which means there is no job. Which means there is no reason for me to pay you."
"Come on, Lara. You see how bad I'm doin'. You don't want to leave a friend hanging, do you? I just need some cash, a little to tide me over until I can find another job." His eyes pleaded with her.
She softened, and stood. "Then you'll tell me how to contact Kurtis, if I grease your palm a little?"
"Sure. No problem, no problem at all."
"Fine then." From the back pocket of her jeans, she withdrew a wad of bills, and rifled their thickness for a moment before peeling several off.
His gaze lingered almost lovingly on the bills as they passed to his hands, and he savored their touch as they fluttered against pale flesh. His fingertips lightly caressed rich paper, the scent of money awakening a lust deep within. "Thanks Lara." he said softly, rising as well. "This'll really help me out, especially pooled with the money he paid me."
"He? Kurtis?"
"Not quite."
The door exploded inward, plunged from rusting hinges by a powerful kick. She spun, thrusting her weapon free of its restraints, the barrel surging to target this unexpected threat.
They flowed inside, shoulders bowed beneath the weight of heavy weaponry, all clutching automatics in darkly garbed hands. Once inside, they fanned out, seven in all, too many for her to just begin blasting away and still escape in one piece.
Her throat pulsed in rapid breath, now slick beneath a layer of perspiration. "What the hell is this?" she hissed to her friend, keeping her .45 automatic trained on the man nearest her.
"Look, Lara, I'm sorry. But this guy called a few days ago, offering big money if I could get you for him. I owe money, Lara. To guys who mean business. If I hadn't agreed, I'd be totally fucked now. These guys want their money, and if I don't pay up, they'll slit my throat."
"Well, that's really too bad, now, isn't it." she replied coldly, rage heating chill flesh. "Unfortunately, you're still totally fucked."
And the barrel of her pistol spun now to him, the sights nicely lined up with his hooked nose.
Footsteps transcended even the steady roar of precipitation, the treading of heavy boots ringing loudly in his ears. He plunged upright, the pistol now gripped securely in both hands, out before him as he moved nearer to the window.
"Shit." he murmured, his gaze perusing the scene within. He should have extracted her sooner; a safe getaway would be exceedingly more difficult now, with seven trigger-happy bastards surrounding her. Not impossible, but certainly difficult. And he had a sinking feeling that one or both of them might have a few more holes in their bodies by the time this damn night ended.
She stood tensed, muscles coiled in preparation to flee at the first opportunity. His eyes traced the curves of her body for a moment, and he caught the fullness of his bottom lip in gnawing teeth. He glanced to the window again, and the gun drooped ever-so-slightly.
Fluttering lashes sheathed the intensity of his gaze.
Both palms uncurled, laid bare to the elements. His gun slipped free, snagged at the last moment on his index finger, dangling precariously by the trigger guard.
He felt the power build within him, and unleashed it.
She ducked instinctively as the window erupted in a froth of tinkling shards, collapsing as a glittering river to the floor. The echoing thunder of gunfire stretched long through the cramped apartment, exploding painfully loud against her ears.
Two of the men dropped, their gore painting the surrounding walls.
Beneath the chaos following this obviously unplanned occurrence, she heard his voice.
"Come on!"
Lara whirled, and leapt for the gaping hole, her feet touching down briefly against its sill before the chill of night rushed in from all sides to embrace her. Her knees buckled for a moment, absorbing the shock of a firm landing, and she felt his strong arm briefly encircle her waist, reinforcing her balance.
"Up." he said, and swiftly holstered his weapon, lacing both hands.
She stepped without hesitation into them, thinking for a moment of the familiarity of this move. Then he launched her into the night sky, and she felt the hardness of the roof's tiles pressed all along her.
*Going to be a bruise there in the morning.*
Gunfire laced the night.
She heard him grunt, and now he thrust himself straight up, groping for a handhold on the roof's edge. Her fingers slipped over his own, twining around both wrists, arm muscles bunching as she hauled back.
He pushed off the building's side, a stray bullet tearing the drainpipe he'd scaled free of hard brick. His eyes tracked its descent, widening slightly, and then his body cleared their sights. He stumbled to his feet, and felt the warmth of her hand present at his left shoulder, her palm cupped to staunch carmine fluid.
*I knew someone was going to get shot.* His fingers closed hard around her forearm. "Go! You can feel me up as soon as these guys stop trying to use us as target practice."
"I'd rather just stay here and let them shoot me full of holes if the alternative is feeling you up." she shot back, somewhat irritably as he clasped her arm and flung her halfway across the roof. The momentum of his shove hurtled her toward the building's edge, and she surged into the air, coming down hard on the next building over.
He landed beside her a moment later, and they moved as one now, sprinting recklessly, arms pumping at either side, sweat flowing thick.
"Right." he yelled.
"What?"
"I said right! Turn right!"
"Well I don't know if you happened to notice this or not, but turning right leads to a dead end, as in we plunge to nasty deaths over the side of the building."
"My bike's down there."
"Oh. Well that's so much better; it'll get a brand new paint job when our guts explode all over it, no extra charge."
A bullet sparked off the roof, passing precariously close to his drumming feet. "Looks like our friends are bringing the party up here." His movements never ceased, and now he reached out, setting both hands against her back as she crossed slightly in front of him.
His mighty push thrust her into thin air.
She had a single moment to picture the gleeful way she would haunt and torture him when her spirit rose from the destroyed husk of her body before her boots touched rough canvas and her body tilted backward, depositing Lara with a muttered curse on her ass. The canvas awning upon which she now perched bucked in protest, thrusting her to its edge.
It trembled once more, tossing her clear, only a last frantic grab securing her position. She swayed above glistening pavement, her gaze drifting to the motorbike gleaming in silent wait below.
He slipped past her, and the resounding thud of his boots kissing cement rose above the storm's fury.
She released her grasp on the canvas as the bike thrummed to life, and stumbled slightly on the landing, plunging out a hand to steady herself.
He twisted at the waist and jerked his chin. "Take a ride with me, why dontcha'?" His lips curved in a slight smirk.
"I thought you'd never ask, Kurtis."
* * *
Its tires thrummed quietly against the glistening black river of Paris's streets, lifting a haze of liquid to settle as a damp veil over both shivering bodies. She pressed herself closer to him, but he offered little warmth, his clothes just as saturated as her own,
dark hair tousled and gleaming beneath the tempest overhead.
The darkness parted before them, reaching to willingly embrace Lara and Kurtis as they threaded empty roads.
His scent invaded her nostrils, clean and masculine, one that seemed strangely familiar despite the fact that she'd previously only known him for two days, and hadn't set eyes on him in a couple of months. She breathed it in, welcoming this new smell, an appreciated reprieve from the bike's exhaust.
To her right, darkened buildings slipped anonymously by, no sign of life within most of them at this late hour.
He pulled into an alleyway an hour after their hurried retreat.
The engine's rumbling purr faded into reluctant oblivion.
She removed her hands from his waist, fingertips skimming a strong and damp back before pulling away entirely. They perched in silence for a moment, inhaling the night's sweet perfume, their breaths twining as one as he turned to face her.
Kurtis swung a leg over his motorcycle's bulk, and shifted so they sat knee to knee, jean caressing jean.
"So Lara, am I the first dickhead to rescue you?"
"Yes; I associate with plenty of dickheads, but I shoot most of them before they have the chance to rescue me."
He smiled, a sparkling warmth now present within cerulean orbs. "Then you're probably glad you didn't blow my head off when you had the chance."
"We'll see."
"You have something of mine."
"Yes, and since you must have been eavesdropping outside the window the whole time, you no doubt are aware that I was looking for you so I could give it back. I collected it from our friend Boaz's lair."
Instinctively, he lightly touched the freshly-healed wound in his gut, treading fingertips over the slightly puckered flesh of the scar which had been left behind as testament to his impaling, as though he really needed something to remember it.
Lara followed his unconscious movement, then nodded to his shoulder. "You're bleeding."
"Just nicked me; I'll wrap it and it'll be good as new in a couple a' days." He looked at her. "You got a place to stay?"
"No. I just arrived in Paris earlier tonight and went straight to Daniel Grosser's. I was planning on getting a hotel room, staying a few days, then following up on whatever information he could provide me with as to your whereabouts. Unfortunately, it looks like I might be spending the night on the streets; I brought only cash, and dropped that back at Daniel's when his little SWAT team burst inside."
"Ever heard of a credit card, lady?"
"Ever heard of shutting your mouth when your opinion's not welcome?" Lara snapped.
He thrust up both hands in acquiescence. "No need to get touchy, *Ms.* Croft. I have some euros on me. We can find a motel. Just as soon as you kindly return my Chirugai to me."
"If that was supposed to be a clever reference to a certain part of your anatomy, I haven't taken it in the first place, so if there's a hand on it trying to steal it away, then it's your own."
"It wasn't."
His eyes fell upon the coveted object, and one hand trailed up her sodden thigh to snatch the disk clipped to the belt threading her lithe waist. He held it up before her. "*This* is a Chirugai."
"Ah, the thing you tried to cut my head off with back at the Lourve. Another ancient weapon of the Lux Veritatis?"
"Yes. But slightly more modern than the Periapt Shards." His fingers stirred lightly against the toned flesh of her leg, only the clinging jeans she wore separating his skin from her own. "And as to gripping certain parts of my anatomy, I'm not really into that."
"Good to know." she replied, and smiled. "You said something about a motel room? Was that just an attempt to seduce me, or a sincere offer? Because in case you hadn't noticed, it's bloody cold out here, and a lady's prone to freezing off certain parts of her anatomy when the temperature drops."
He tossed her a sarcastic, two-fingered salute. "Well as long as you're uncomfortable, of course we'll leave right away."
"It's dangerous to mock a woman whose just been betrayed by a friend, is soaking wet, and sharing air space with an infuriating idiot to boot."
"That's not a very nice thing to say about the guy who just rescued you, now is it, Lara?"
"I still haven't forgiven you for stealing my painting. I went to a lot of trouble to pick it up. Not to mention, you took my weapons from me." She shook a finger at him. "That wasn't a very thoughtful thing to do, Kurtis. I've got half a mind to disarm you and ride your little toy off into the distance. See how you like it."
"Then you wouldn't have a place to stay." he said coolly.
They studied one another a moment, no animosity in either gaze despite the rather harsh words exchanged. Then his mouth curved in the sardonic half-smile she'd already begun to associate with him, and he reached behind him to snatch his key from the ignition. "Well come on, then, Lara." He dismounted. "There's a place just up the street from here. I'll leave the bike parked here, in case our new friends come looking for us and recognize it."
She rose to join him.
"We can catch up, maybe drink a cup of tea together or something. Isn't that what you Brits do? Talk and drink tea?"
"Yes. And shoot nasty little men who make fun of us." Lara responded, tapping him gently under the chin with one slender finger. "And I prefer coffee. But if you'd like to indulge in a pansy beverage from time to time, I'm not going to spill such a deep dark secret to the tabloids."
Kurtis smirked, and pocketed his keys. He had a feeling he was going to like this woman.