Here's another chapter, guys. Thanks for all the feedback! I'm replaying Angel of Darkness at the moment, which is fueling my fanfic writing urges somewhat.
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Coming into the lounge, Bryce helped me to sit in one of the armchairs. I smiled my thanks as I fell back into it, unable to put the strain on my abdomen needed to lower myself into a sitting position.
"You want a drink?" Bryce asked, raising his eyebrows in question. He wasn't obvious about it, but he was clearly looking me over to form an opinion about who I was, what I wanted and what I was doing there.
"Yeah, thanks," I said, "Coffee'd be good."
Nodding in acknowledgement, Bryce swept off into a room on the left, and I looked through the open doorway to see a huge and expensive looking kitchen. 'Wow', I thought to myself as I glanced around the lounge at the expensive but modern furniture that contrasted sharply but tastefully with the classic, old wood panelled walls. The chair I was sitting in was black, leather, and creaked satisfyingly as I shifted. There were sounds of china clinking and cupboards being opened and shut coming from the kitchen, but no speech. The silence was a little uncomfortable, but not unexpected. I was tense, on edge, not in a bad way but as was normal when in someone else's territory with people you were unfamiliar with. I noticed my breathing was shallow and scolded myself for being so silly – I was comfortable living in the underworld of society, which involved speaking to unsavoury characters you'd never met and would probably kill you if it made them a profit, following people and travelling the world alone and unguided in the areas no tourist book covered, but I felt shy staying at someone's house. Pathetic.
Lara waltzed in, flashed me a smile and turned to Bryce as he re-entered with a tray of drinks.
"Bryce, just what have you been getting up to?" she said. Bryce blinked at her, slightly taken aback. He placed my drink down in front of me, and I winced as I leaned forward to pick it up, whispering a quick thanks to please my sense of manners whilst not interrupting the interchange.
"Hillary – he thought it was you calling – seemed rather annoyed," Lara clarified.
"Ah, well, I may have had a few problems operating certain household appliances."
"Bryce, did you flood the kitchen with the washing machine again?"
I bit back a laugh at Lara's humorous accusation and looked at Bryce, waiting for his reaction.
"Dishwasher."
Classic! I laughed to myself, already starting to understand the relationship these two had. I began to relax, realising that under normal circumstances Lara obviously had a good sense of humour and that this was clearly a very relaxed and easy going household despite the imposing formality of the surroundings.
"Some place you got here," I commented to Lara, holding her gaze.
"Glad someone appreciates it." She directed the reply to Bryce, staring at him with a cocked eyebrow. He stared back blankly. "Your trailer," she continued, "I notice it's back."
"Ah well, Hillary was driving me a bit...odd. Since, ages back. Didn't want to get it out of storage while you were still Dark Side on us, so I waited until you'd left. I still live in the house. My trailer just makes a nice Hillary-free zone, that's all. Doesn't smell of polish."
Bryce's reply caught my attention and I glanced between the two of them. Lara seemed uncomfortable, but Bryce was oblivious to the fact that he had obviously hit a raw nerve. Hoping to force a little more information out of the conversation with regards to what had got Croft so intolerant in Europe, I probed, "Dark Side?"
"Lara went evil on us," Bryce said, still refusing to recognise the delicacy of the atmosphere.
"I had some things to work through," Lara said curtly.
"In Paris and Prague?" I asked, not backing down. I suppose I had no right, but I was curious, and I couldn't help but feel that I had played some small part in her redemption or whatever it had been with Eckhardt. Lara balked, glaring, and then stood.
"I'm hungry," she said, translating the statement with her body language into, 'End of conversation', "Does anyone fancy Chinese?"
"Sure," said Bryce, leaping up and heading for the kitchen, and I decided to follow his example and let Lara have her way. I nodded my consent, silently apologising for going too far and watched her as she left the room, inwardly scolding myself for being insensitive.
A few short minutes later Lara was on the phone placing our order with the local take out joint, and Bryce and I were sat back in the lounge, silent. At last, I found the courage to press the issue. "So what's the deal with Lara?" I asked.
Bryce shook himself out of his thoughts and looked back at me. "Post traumatic stress disorder," he recited, "She was exploring in Egypt when she was buried under rubble when a pyramid wall collapsed. We searched for her for days, but eventually we were forced to give her up for dead. Three months later she turned up at the door in a right state. Traumatised, she was. None of us could get through to her. Then she disappeared off doing whatever it was when she met you, and now she's home and well, or so it seems." With the last few words he directed his gaze out to the hallway from where we could hear Lara's faint words floating through.
I was about to speak, though to say what I don't know, when we heard the clunk of the phone being hung up, and Lara came back in, smiling her greeting and sitting back down.
The rest of the evening passed uneventfully, the dinner conversation consisting of polite 'getting to know you' talk that carefully sidestepped all mention of Europe in hopes of not getting to close to the sore subject of Lara's mental state. Afterwards, Lara and I both tired from travelling, Lara showed me to my room and helped me settle in before retiring to her own bed. I lay awake for a while, sorting through everything that had happened – how Lara must have escaped her makeshift tomb, how our adventure against the Cabal could possibly have lifted her depression, and eventually back onto Eckhardt and my father. The wound was still fresh, but I couldn't help but add to my pain as I tortured myself over not being the one to exact my revenge. In the early hours, exhaustion rescued me from my torment as I fell into a deep and long sleep.

The next morning I awoke from a fitful dream around six, waking early as I usually did in unfamiliar surroundings. After spending ten minutes trying to work out how the strange English shower in my en suite worked and another five trying to pluck up the courage to turn it on after my initial activation of the machine resulted in such a noisy clanking of the ancient plumbing that I was sure I would wake up Bryce and Lara, I eventually got washed and dressed and crept downstairs.
Hungry, I headed for the kitchen, believing that Lara wouldn't begrudge her guest some breakfast. Searching the cupboards, I finally decided to do my host a favour, and have a sandwich using some of the ingredients in the fridge that were about to hit their sell by date. I couldn't manage without my crutches, needing the support they gave to lessen the pain from debilitating agony if I moved alone, to a milder ache that only made me limp and breathe heavily. I stood for a second, trying to work out the logistics of making a sandwich. So far I'd managed by using one crutch and working with one free hand, so I supposed that that was how it was going to have to be.
Collecting the ingredients one by one, I began to try to make my breakfast. I was tired, in pain and irritated, and I alleviated my anger by cursing each ingredient in turn, finding it all too easy to find fault. Being right handed, I nearly scolded myself as I tried to pour the kettle for some tea with my left hand, spilling most of the water over the counter. I didn't want tea, I didn't like tea, I wasn't even quite sure how to make tea, but hell knows where Bryce had conjured that coffee from last night. My question was soon answered when Lara announced her presence with a raucous laugh that nearly knocked me off my feet. I managed to grab the kitchen table with my free hand, feeling a shot of agony slice through me at the sudden movement.
"Don't do that!" I yelled at her angrily, incensed that she could find my trouble so funny and embarrassed that she could sneak up on me like that. Not replying, she magicked some coffee out of a cupboard and took over the preparation of my breakfast. Deciding to leave her to it, I fell into a chair and watched, feeling the pain subside as I rested.
"You think that was funny?" I asked as she gracefully presented me with my morning meal and floated into the chair opposite me to drink my abandoned tea. She smiled mischievously, and I glared, genuinely angry, but good food, coffee, and an infectiously good mood from Lara dispelled my rage quickly, and I found myself smiling back at her. "Guess it's not that bad," I said after a testing sip of my coffee, "still say this is a backward country, though. Your bread is...springy."
"No different to your sour dough," she shot back.
"I don't like sour dough," I said, clarifying the difference, "I like bread."
"Tsk," she said, dismissing me.
I stared at her for a second, weighing her up before deciding to subtly press an issue I had been wondering about since last night. "Found any more trouble to get yourself into to worry that boyfriend of yours?"
Staring back blankly for a second, Lara then suddenly realised who I was talking about. "Bryce isn't my boyfriend. We're just very close friends, that all."
"Oh, so that's why I heard you two giggling as you left his room at four this morning, then," I said teasingly to cover up my delight at that statement. She was gorgeous, she was tough, she knew what a Glock 17 was, and she was single!
"We were watching TV and talking. Late, yes. Clandestine rendezvous, no. Didn't wake you, did I?" Her manner suggested that she was oblivious to the real reason I had asked.
"No," I said, eating more sandwich, "I was already awake. Back pain."
Without prompting, she began to elaborate on the mysterious relationship between herself and the bizarre but likeable Bryce.
"Bryce and I – we spent a couple of years flirting, then we decided to see if there was anything more, but there isn't. Our close personal contact is a remnant of a romance that never was."
A remnant of a romance that never was? I blinked, wondering whether I had imagined that last comment or if it had really fallen from Lara's lips. God, it was clichéd. Quickly and, I thought smugly, skilfully steering the conversation back to lighter and more comfortable tones, whilst at the same time testing the waters with regards to flirting with Lara, I ventured, "Clearly, the man is gay."
Lara looked slightly taken aback for a moment before laughing loudly. How she could be so cheerful at that hour of the morning I didn't know, but I was glad that my comment had hit target so well. "And just what is that supposed to mean?" she said, grinning.
"Ah well, that would normally be the moment where I'd sweep out of the room before you had a change to react, leaving you flustered and me safe from questions like that. But, as you can see, I'm kinda incapacitated in that aspect."
"Would you like me to sweep out for you?" Lara joked, clearly enjoying the exchange.
"Go right ahead." I flashed a disarming smile that was met with one of Lara's own, and, at the just the perfect moment, the phone rang.
"Saved by the bell," I teased, and I smiled to myself triumphantly as Lara left the room. Things were going well.

I returned to my room and slept for a while after the sandwich and when I awoke later and emerged from my room it was just in time to see Lara leaving hers dressed to go out.
Smiling, she said, "Sleep well?"
"Yeah," I said, nodding, totally refreshed.
"I'm off to pick up Hillary," she said, "Make yourself at home. Feel free to explore. I don't think Bryce is actually awake yet, but if you have any problems just wake him up. Shan't be long."
With that she swept off down the massive staircase and I followed her, stopping at the landing overlooking over the entrance hall. I appreciated the view for a while, taking in the silence punctuated only by the ticking of the antique grandfather clock and turning to look out of the window behind me. The view was of a green leafy tree, it's thin willowy branches swaying in the wind peacefully. Moving closer to the window, my view increased to encompass a gravel walkway below us that led to who knew where, and a stretch of grass before a high red brick wall. I wanted to explore the grounds, but I also wanted to explore this amazing house whilst it was quiet and I was likely to be undisturbed. The whole thing was like something out of a movie, so unlike most of the houses in America. I considered my options – I certainly had the time to check out the place, and no-one would mind, but could I make it all that distance on crutches before my arms fell off? Probably not. So – what would I do today?
After a while more musing with the tree out of the window for company, I decided to start exploring the house. Whatever I didn't get done, I'd work on tomorrow.
About an hour later I was investigating what I had decided to fantastically name the drawing room when I was interrupted from my examination of an intricate carving on a wall panel by Bryce.
"Kurtis," he greeted.
"Hey, Bryce," I returned over my shoulder before turning more slowly to face him.
"Sleep alright?"
"Yeah, yeah." The conversation was clearly pointless, serving to make whatever Bryce wanted to say to me seem less rude. I went along with it, waiting.
"Where's Lara?"
"She went to pick up Hillary from the station."
"Oh, god, he's not coming back is he? I was getting used to living in a house, not a museum."
I smiled. There was a brief moment of silence and then Bryce took the plunge.
"So, how did you meet Lara?"
"Oh, we were both after the same guy."
"Yeah?"
"Yeah." I pretended to not recognise the prompt in the question. I didn't want to talk about what had happened to Lara and me, it wasn't really my business. If Bryce wanted to know, he should ask her, and besides, I didn't want to discuss Eckhardt with a stranger.
"Bad guy?"
"Yeah, yeah, he was."
"You get him?"
"Saved the world."
"Good, good."
"I'm sure Lara'll fill you in."
"Yeah," said Bryce, pretending to be satisfied, "yeah, probably. I, er...I have to go and do some things." He pointed down the corridor and I nodded, dismissing him.
He left and I looked around the room, casting my eyes around for something else to catch my interest. My gaze fell on an out of place carved lion's head that didn't quite seem to fit, and I went to investigate, hoping to find a secret passage or cupboard to keep me occupied.