I had this fic all sorted out in my head, even went ahead and wrote some of the later chapters, then I consulted a friend and she made me see that, yeah, Kurtis would actually never do that...so once again, I'm as clueless as you as to how this is going to turn out. Darn.
Godavari - I'm glad you share my sense of humour. ;-)
Suetekh - As ever, thanks for your detailed reviews. :-) gets melodramatic I feel so loved!
Valleera - You're welcome for the review - I really am enjoying 'Joining Forces'.
Ms Croft, I presume - Thanks! Glad you're enjoying it!
===============================================================

I've always been a light sleeper, and I awoke a couple of hours later to the sound of someone tapping lightly on my door, apparently only trying to be heard if I was already awake. Turning from off my side and sitting up, drawing my knees up slightly, I rubbed a hand across one eye and down the side of my face.
"Come in," I called, not quite knowing whom to expect.
The door clicked open quietly and a head poked itself around, shrouded in shadows.
"Kurtis?" I asked, only recognising him from the unkempt hair swishing around his face in tones slightly darker than the night.
He stepped fully into the room, closing the door behind him and cutting off what little light had spilled in from the landing. Standing there in the shadows, postured awkwardly, he said, "I'm shouldn't have yelled at you earlier. Sorry."
I straightened the covers on the bed, a gesture meant to invite him to sit down, and he took the hint. Stepping over and perching on the bed, he held up his hand as I reached for the lamp.
"No, leave it."
I withdrew my hand, curious. He sat, facing the wall to my left, his hands in his lap and his head down. He was barely a figure in the dark, his dark clothes and hair assisting in his concealment, and it occurred to me that he wanted the light off so he would find it easier to talk.
"I'm not sure it's a good idea for me to stay. I can't just settle into a partnership with a normal life for a backdrop. Friends, domestic harmony – it isn't me."
"It doesn't have to be like that."
"Lara," he turned to face me, his hands going to rest on the bed, "Have you seen yourself here? You, Bryce and Hillary are this close," he gestured with his hand, "Hillary's like some adoptive father to you, you and Bryce are like something out of – of –" he waved his hand in the air searching for the right comparison, "Moonlighting! I can't live like that, I can't. I'm a loner, I don't have friends, I can't, I just – " he cut himself off, his head falling back to look to his lap.
"You seemed to settle in quite well these past three weeks. You call joining in a tickling match being a loner? You've watched me train, joined in dinner conversations, teased Bryce with more skill than I have, passed evenings in front of the television with us. You might like being alone, but you don't hate company, Kurtis."
I sat with my arms wrapped around my knees, watching him closely. He locked his eyes with mine in the dark, what little light there was reflecting off them and making them sparkle with a mysterious quality. Then, he let out a long breath and propped one arm on his leg, letting his forehead fall into his open palm.
Running both hands through his hair, he straightened up again and drew in a breath before saying, spreading his hands wide, "I just don't think I'll ever be able to set down in one place. I want to, but I don't think I can. I look at people with wives and girlfriends and friends, talking and laughing in clubs, whilst I'm sitting in the shadows and smoke in a corner, watching someone I'm following, or waiting for a contact to show, and I want what they have, but I don't think it's me."
These last words were spoken wearily, with an air of resignation that made me well with sympathy and reach for his hand.
"Kurtis, you don't have to be a social butterfly who's the life and soul of the party and who can't step outside without seeing a friend. Some people aren't like that. I'm not. What you can do is stay here, with us. You can still go out on your own and sit in clubs stalking people, you can still stand around on docks smoking cigarettes completely indifferent to the life threatening situations happening to the people around you," at this he let out a short, sharp laugh, "but you can always return here to an evening meal with friends and a night in front of the TV making fun of bad films."
He was silent, apparently still torn, so I spoke again.
"You said you'd be there for me. Are you going to go back on that promise?"
He looked up at me through his fringe, and spoke.
"Why are you so desperate for me to stay?"
I didn't hesitate in my answer – I had already asked myself the same question days before.
"I've never met anyone so similar to myself."
"Not even Alex West?"
"How do you know about him?" I questioned, genuinely confused.
"I asked Bryce who the guy in the picture was." At my continued expression of puzzlement, he clarified, "The one in his trailer with the darts in it."
This was news to me, and I snickered, genuinely amused that Bryce would do such a thing. I had a flash of the scene that the conversation must have entailed, and it made me laugh even more.
Bryce was sitting in his trailer, leant comfortably back in his office chair, feet crossed at the ankles and resting on the end of his bed. Kurtis, leaning against the desk with his arms folded, watched the other man for a few minutes as Bryce continually closed one eye, lined up his shot, and then sent darts flying through the air at a black and white headshot of a grinning Alex West pinned up on the opposite wall of the trailer.
"And who's that?" Kurtis asked, cocking his head on one side and regarding the photo curiously.
"Alex West."
"And he's...?"
"Lara's ex."
"Right." Kurtis nodded, understanding completely, and the trailer returned to silence except for the thudding of well aimed darts.
Looking momentarily surprised, Kurtis leant back a little from my sudden outburst, then, realising how funny the situation was, joined in with a roar of laughter of his own. Giggling, I leant forward and rested my forehead on his shoulder, my own convulsing in humour, and the solemn air diffused around us into one of companionship.