Idk man, I wrote this entire chapter today (I had a general outline prepared ofc, I'm not a deity!) and I've kind of just been making this story up as I go. I don't even remember where I was headed when I first started, only where I'm going.

Heh, that's kind of profound of me...

Enjoy all this psychology.

It had been a hectic week since Lara had returned to London with Sam. For one thing, they had to pack their lives away while still being able to function on a daily basis in preparation for their move. Normally this wouldn't have been such an ordeal, but considering Lara still had to wear her sling, it fell to Sam to handle all of the packing…and Sam wasn't exactly someone she'd call methodical and organized.

Consequently, many items got sorted into boxes they had no business being sorted into. Cords were thrown in with clothing, books were thrown with shoes, and coffee mugs were thrown with binders and no padding to protect them from damage. Lara knew this would make the moving process that much more difficult, and tried to do what she could to rectify the chaos that Sam was breeding. All Lara's efforts really accomplished was breeding tension between the two of them, however.

Lara knew that Sam was simply stressed because of all the changes happening in her life, and that was why she was so chaotic in her methodology. Sam's duress was the reason why she tried her hardest to be calm and patient. She had to admit, however, that she was exhausted from the mental effort. While at first when Sam would snap at her, she'd bite her tongue and respond evenly, she had gotten to the point where she'd snap right back at Sam. She didn't mean to, but she could only handle and compartmentalize so much before she hit her limit.

And she was at her limit after the phone call she'd received a few days ago.

Winston had called her because some prominent directors wanted to film a feature flick at the Manor. Even though she wouldn't be of age for a little over a month and thus wasn't technically the Countess of Abbingdon yet, there was no one else from whom the directors could get permission. Thus, she had no choice but to return to the Manor to meet with the directors and rope off where they could and couldn't film.

She would have said no and not dealt with any of it, 'it' being anything related to the Manor and the Croft Estate. But in saying no, she would have to, in fact, deal with it down the road. A place like the Manor absolutely hemorrhaged money in terms of maintenance and staffing. Just one glance at the spreadsheets told her that. Certainly she could subsidize everything by using the available funds in the Estate's account, but for some reason that didn't sit right with her. Certainly she didn't want anything to do with the money, but she also hadn't decided what to do with the money if she wasn't going to use it for herself. Using it to maintain an Estate she'd rather demolish seemed counterintuitive, but the Manor was also a piece of history so it seemed wrong to level the entire structure.

Better to let the damned thing be self-sufficient, then.

Ever since her father's passing, Lara had seldom returned to the Manor. When she wasn't off at boarding school, Roth would take the summers off to take her out traveling for the holidays. Lara, for all intents and purposes, hadn't been at her home–if she could even call it that–since she was thirteen years-old, and she wasn't particularly keen on breaking the streak. Maybe that's why Roth had kept her away from the Manor for so long, maybe he knew that place only brought back unpleasant memories for her.

And here she was, having thought that going to school meant she wouldn't be tied to that place anymore. How much of a fool she was, indeed. It would be a few more days before she'd have to go to the Manor, however, since she had told Winston she was in the process of moving and the directors would have to wait.

In the present, she was finally sling-free and waiting outside Connaught Hall with Sam. Even though her shoulder was cleared for 'everyday use,' she was still prohibited from doing heavy lifting or intense physical activity. Since Sam was adamant about her following the doctor's orders, she had no choice but to seek outside help for moving. Luckily, Roth was back in England after an expedition and had happily agreed to help. He was due to arrive in his car at any moment.

Lara was just relieved that the whole ordeal was about to be over and she and Sam could go back to being normal. Sam seemed to feel the same way as she attempted to make small-talk with Lara while they waited.

"At least I finally get to meet your Uncle," she said.

"Yeah," was all Lara replied. She didn't know how else to respond. Evidently, Sam didn't know what to say either and they both fell silent. Thankfully, Roth pulled up shortly thereafter and the silence didn't hang between them for too long.

"How you been, girl?" Roth greeted her as he got out of the car and approached the two of them.

"I've been alright," Lara said after they embraced. She hadn't told Roth about the latest Croft Manor developments yet, and it wasn't exactly in her disposition to get into her family baggage in front of Sam at that moment. "We've been busy since getting back, as you can probably guess."

"Indeed," Roth replied, shifting his gaze to Sam, "I'm guessing you're the roommate?" he asked, holding a hand out to Sam.

"Yeah, Sam. Nice to meet you, Mr. Roth," Sam said, shaking his hand.

"Just 'Roth' is fine, lass. I find the 'Mr.' to be a little too formal, honestly." Roth opened the trunk and began to start loading bags and boxes in, "You know, Lara, you still haven't told me how you hurt your shoulder in the first place." Lara scratched the back of her neck sheepishly.

"Let's just say ice skates were involved," Lara said. Roth blinked in surprise and dramatically shifted his gaze to Sam.

"You the one who let her near ice skates? Do you know how injury-prone this lass is?" He demanded, cocking his head in Lara's direction.

"I'm starting to realize," Sam replied with a small laugh as she helped load the boxes. All Lara could do was stand in the background, like a side character on the stage of a play, waiting for the moment she delivers her singular line in the play but otherwise not playing a major role. "Would you like to hear about what happened to her eyebrow?"

"Now that you mention it," Roth began with an inquisitive brow raised after turning his head back towards Lara, "that's a pretty nasty scar, Lara. You're not getting into fights here too, are you?"

"Well…" Lara's voice trailed off.

"That means yes," Roth said, shaking his head.

"Is this a recurring problem?" Sam asked. Lara knew exactly why. Her eyebrow had been the product of her intercepting two disorderly patrons at the Nine Bells. Sure, she could have gotten Wilson and avoided involving herself in the dispute, but that didn't seem to be an option at the time when one of the patrons broke a bottle. Who knew who would have gotten hurt in the time it took her to get Wilson? But Sam didn't know that. All she knew was that there was a row that she had broken up. Sam didn't know just how serious the situation was.

Plus, who could forget Catherine's surprise nose job before the Nine Bells debacle had occurred? Lara was aware that she came off as a scrapper in light of all the facts.

"It's been known to happen every so often," Roth replied.

"It's not like I want to attract trouble," Lara murmured as a car honked by. She wasn't sure if Roth and Sam had heard her or not. If they did, nobody indicated so as Roth closed the trunk and motioned for them to get in the car. Lara and Sam both filed into the back seat.

"What does your coach think about your injury?" Roth asked once the car started moving.

"She's not too pleased with me," Lara said. Roth grunted in acknowledgement.

"You probably have championships coming up, don't you?" He asked.

"In February, yes."

"That makes sense, then," Roth remarked. A hush fell over them briefly, as Roth navigated the hectic London roadways, before Sam broke it.

"Roth, can you tell me more about Lara being Ronda Rousey when she was younger?" Sam asked. Lara resisted the urge to let out an exasperated sigh and contented herself with resting her head on her hand and looking out the window while her past was scrutinized.

"Well, when she was really young, she smashed the Earl of Derby's daughter's face into the sand over Jaffa Cakes-"

"Good to know that some things never change," Sam remarked.

"-and the Earl raised quite a stink over that," Roth laughed.

"What you're forgetting is that I did ask her to stop for days on end," Lara interjected, "and it's not like I could have told the only adult in my life at the time and had him do anything because he was never present." There it was: another awkward silence. "Besides which point," Lara continued, trying to redirect the song of discussion to a more positive note, "you're one to talk about being scrappy. Am I the only one who remembers that Reyes's first impression on you was the dent her fist left on your cheek?" Roth laughed at this.

"Touche," he replied. "By the way, is this flat of yours furnished?"

"Yeah," Lara responded, "all we have to do is move the stuff in our trunk. Sam and I can handle getting kitchen appliances and other things on our own."

"If you're sure," Roth said, "I don't mind pushing my meeting back to drive you girls to the store as well."

"It's fine, Roth, we'll be able to handle it alone. That way, you can get to the pub on time," Lara gave Roth a wry smirk as she finished her statement. It wasn't as if Roth was lying about having a meeting; his prospective employers just happened to be the type who liked to talk over a pint in a dingy dive bar. She simply found it amusing how Roth referred to such encounters with formality instead of saying it like it was: a congregation of drunken sailors. Roth was essentially a pirate. "Then, you can drink all the grog you want with your mates." Roth didn't even try to defend himself.

"You're getting too sharp for me to handle, girl."

It didn't feel like long before they arrived at Lara and Sam's new flat in Barking, which was situated in a building that looked like a row of two-story row homes. In reality, each door opened to an enclosed corridor with a door at the end and stairs to the right. Each story housed a separate two-bedroom unit. Lara had made a point of getting a flat on the second story so she wouldn't have to listen to the thudding of other people's footsteps day after day.

"It's a nice area," Roth mused as he took a look around after getting out of the car. He and Sam grabbed some boxes out of the car as Lara walked ahead to let them in since she was the one with the key. That was something else she'd have to add to her ever-growing to-do list: make an extra key for Sam. Lara felt like she had a migraine setting in.

She entered the apartment, and so did Sam and Roth shortly thereafter. After walking down a short hallway, she emerged into the common area, which housed a couch, a coffee table, a bookshelf, an unoccupied TV stand, and a reading chair, but was otherwise empty. On the wall directly opposite her were two doors that led to the bedrooms. On the wall directly to her right was the door to the bathroom at the very end, beside which the wall opened up to reveal the modest kitchen, which had no cookware, cutlery, or appliances but at least had a dining table with chairs. All of the walls in the flat were the same ocean blue color.

It didn't take Roth and Sam long to unload everything from the vehicle and stack it in the common area. When the last box was stacked, Roth turned to Lara.

"I'd ask you if you want help unpacking, but I suspect you want to do that on your own time?" Roth asked. Lara nodded. "Well, in that case, you girls want something to eat on me at least?"

"I like food," Sam interjected. In spite of how much they'd been quarreling recently, Lara had to let out a small snort of amusement at the swiftness of Sam's response. Quirks like that of Sam's were the reason why she…

Headache.

"That sounds lovely," Lara said, gently massaging one of her temples.

"What do you want? Indian?" Roth asked.

"That works for me," Lara said, removing her hand from her head.

"I'm game," Sam added.

Roth took their requests and left to go pick up their lunch. Once he closed the door behind him, Lara moved to retrieve the box that she knew had her and Sam's books so that she could organize them on the bookshelf. Before she could pick the box up, she felt a hand on her shoulder and looked back at Sam.

"You just got out of a sling, remember?" Sam picked the box up for her and moved it over to the bookshelf. Lara had to bite her tongue before snapping at Sam out of reflex.

She wasn't being mean there, Lara told herself, and took a deep breath through her nose. Nothing about what Sam just did warranted a visceral response. She strode over to where Sam was already sitting on the floor alphabetizing books and sat next to her. They sorted in silence for a few moments before Sam spoke. All the while, that smell of vanilla and amber washed over Lara and only made her headache worse.

"You know, it's gonna be really weird not being on campus with you this semester," Sam said. Lara paused. She and Sam had been so at each other's throats the past week that she hadn't considered how isolated Sam was feeling on top of all the stress.

"Yeah," Lara agreed, "it'll be weird for sure, but it's only temporary, right?"

"Maybe I'll be back by the fall if I'm lucky."

Lara looked over at Sam out of the corner of her eye to see that Sam was staring down at the book in her hands with a rather forlorn expression. It didn't take a genius to see signs of depression in another human being, between the lost, soulless voids that were the eyes, or the brow raised in contemplation of how to find the way back. Lara felt that she could ease up on Sam and show a little more compassion instead of being self-absorbed in her own woes. She returned her attention to the book box and pulled out Pride and Prejudice.

"Look," Lara said, tossing it into Sam's lap in an attempt to distract her, "your favorite." Sam set aside the book she was holding to pick up Pride and Prejudice, and she smiled softly at the cover.

"I guess good ol' Elizabeth Bennet and I have something in common now: we're both facing the prospect of being penniless. Maybe Mr. Darcy will swoop in to court me and save me from my woes?" Sam's eyes drifted closed while the soft smile still adorned her features. Even though she was smiling, she still looked so sad. Maybe it was because the smile didn't reach her eyes.

Lara clenched her jaw. She wanted to offer to be Sam's Mr. Darcy right then and there, but something told her the timing would be absolutely inappropriate. For one thing, Sam was in an incredibly vulnerable and uncertain place in her life and they had just gotten a flat together. Wouldn't that create a weird dynamic between them? Besides which point, Roth would be back soon and Lara wasn't certain how he would react to her telling him that she was probably…

A sharp bolt of pain zapped through the left side of Lara's brain.

"Who knows?" was all Lara could muster as a response. For reasons that eluded Lara's understanding, Sam frowned at this. Silence hung between them for the umpteenth time that day, and Lara returned her attention to the book sorting and pulled another tome out of the box. She chewed her bottom lip in thought when she saw Paradise Lost in her hands.

Roth returned with lunch shortly after Lara and Sam finished organizing the books. When he reentered the common area, he squinted at the bookshelf and took a moment to scrutinize their collection.

"What, no Wordsworth?" he inquired.

"My Wordsworth is still at the Manor, unfortunately," Lara replied. Her head throbbed dully at the mention of 'Manor.'

"I see," Roth said. He set the bag of food down on the kitchen table and moments later, they were all sitting together and sharing the repast. "So Sam," Roth continued at length, "where in the states are you from?"

"Hm…" Sam took a moment to think. Lara knew why. "I guess I would consider California my home."

"Whereabouts?"

"Beverly Hills," Sam said. Roth let out a long whistle in response.

"American royalty, eh?"

"Something like that, not that I'm on the best terms with my family right now." Lara noticed that Sam's expression had become indecipherable.

"It happens." Roth shrugged. "Even royals are still people."

"So…" Sam began, "can I ask what you do for a living, Roth? Lara mentioned you used to be a soldier."

"I'm a procurer of long-displaced goods."

"So…a treasure hunter?"

"Basically."

"Is that legal?" Sam asked. Roth smirked.

"Depends where you go and what you're looking for."

"What's the coolest thing you've ever found?"

Lara's hand tightened into a fist around her plastic fork. She knew exactly how Roth was going to answer, and that stoked the fires of her ire.

"The Lost Roanoke Colony," Roth answered. Lara let out an emphatic groan.

"Oh, God," Lara scoffed. There it was: the singular shred of proof of her father's sanity and brilliance that stood as a tower amid the hellscape of raving conspiracy theories that was his life. Roth cleared his throat and laced his fingers together with an air that suggested he'd been prepared for this reaction.

"We filled in a gap in history with Roanoke."

"It's not that Roanoke wasn't significant, I just think that you and everyone else give dad too much credit for the find. He didn't discover anything, he just confirmed what other people had already suspected." Lara folded her arms across her chest in defiance. "He just happened to have enough money to fund the digging in his own way. He got lucky. He was born into circumstances that enabled him to 'discover' something that people already knew, and that's why Roanoke is his only significant find. The rest of his legacy is just babbling about magic." Roth sighed.

"Well, agree to disagree on the rest but I don't deny that he lost his mind towards the end," Roth said.

"I think magic could exist," Sam said. Lara had nearly forgotten that Sam was there for that entire exchange. Both she and Roth stared at Sam incredulously. "What? Where else would people get the idea of Medusa? Those stories have to come from somewhere."

"Sam, Medusa is believed to have been in Libya. Who's to say that 'snake hair' didn't refer to dreadlocks?"

"What about turning people to stone?" Sam countered.

"Fossils," Lara riposted.

"Isn't that all just speculation without proof though?" Sam demanded, "All you have are guesses without evidence, whereas the actual Greek mythology is on my side as a secondary source. Technically speaking, I have a more compelling academic argument than you." Roth chuckled in the background.

"I wish I had never taught you to be such a good academic writer," was all Lara could say in a sullen murmur.

"I'm starting to wonder how well I was taught now," Sam retorted, "considering you can't even defend your side of the argument."

"In that case, Flamel was an alchemist," Lara fired back.

"Why not?" Sam asked, throwing her hands up in a theatrical shrug.

"Because going in that direction would spit in Occam's face."

"People can be wrong."

"What about you?"

"Me? I'm perfect." Sam flashed a peevish grin in Lara's direction. Lara could only let out a grunt of exasperation.

"You're incorrigible…what's so funny?" Lara demanded as Roth kept laughing.

"This just reminds me so much of someone I used to know…" Roth glanced down at his watch and, before Lara could even ask what he meant, continued speaking, "it's looking about time for me to start heading out." He got to his feet. Lara followed suit.

"Don't get so drunk that women punch you now," Lara said as she and Roth embraced. Roth could only laugh in embarrassment. He knew he had a knack for getting under other people's skin when drunk–Lara knew that he knew that she knew that. Despite the fact that he really did try his best, there was only so much that one could conceal from the inquisitive gaze of a child. Lara didn't blame him for his flaws though. He was still her father as far as she was concerned, and the best one she had.

After farewells were exchanged, he was gone once more, and Lara and Sam were officially alone in their new flat. Lara set about putting her leftovers away. As she did so, her thoughts drifted back to the conversation they had just had moments ago.

The conversation about magic.

Magic wasn't real. She had wanted to believe at one point, but her father had shown her where going down that rabbithole led to. Magic wasn't real because if it was, then her mother would still be alive. But Amelia DeMornay Croft was dead. Thus, magic wasn't real. There was the evidence that Sam had wanted.

Headache.

"You okay?" Sam asked from behind. Lara wanted nothing more than to lie and say 'yes,' but all she could do was shrug as she closed the fridge. She kept her gaze fixed on the ground and away from Sam as she walked back out into the common area. "Wanna talk about it?" Sam persisted as Lara walked by.

"Not really," Lara said. She knew that talking about her family would only serve to make her crumble into ruin, and she really didn't have the time to deal with those kinds of emotions–not when there was so much they had to do. Besides which point, it wasn't just her family that she was upset about. But how could she tell Sam that she was part of the problem?

She really wished that her damned head would stop pounding the way it was.

Lara attempted to busy herself with sorting through the pile of boxes in the common area and figuring out where each one went. She had only just laid her hands on one of the boxes when she felt a hand on her shoulder again, just like earlier.

"If you're gonna hurt yourself mentally by not talking to me, I'd at least like for you to not hurt yourself physically by trying to lift."

"Sam-"

"I'm just saying that it's not healthy to give all the time. At some point, you need to be vulnerable enough to take." She nodded in the direction of the kitchen before Lara could fire off a response, "We should get pots and pans taken care of." Lara knew that by changing the topic, Sam was indicating that she had no desire to argue or fight any further. That suited Lara just fine. It had been a trying week for the both of them, there was no point in making it any more difficult.

"We need a drill and some shelving for when your music gear arrives. We should probably go to Homebase in that case," Lara said. Sam picked her coat up off the couch and motioned for Lara to take the lead.

"After you."

Making a run to Homebase didn't take them too long given that there was one right in Barking. There had also been a place nearby to make a copy of the key Lara had, so they took care of that as well. Since they had both been walking around and getting fresh air, Lara found that her headache had dissipated. Or rather, her headache had at least dissipated enough that it no longer bothered her.

She and Sam got onto the Tube back to their apartment with their shopping bags in tow. They both took a seat, and Sam contented herself with scrolling through her phone as they waited to get off at their stop. As they rocked along the rail, Lara let her gaze drift around the other passengers in the carriage. Across from her and Sam were an elderly couple, who seemed to be looking very pointedly at something and grumbling among themselves. Lara followed their gaze to see what appeared to be a lesbian couple holding hands. Lara quickly realized that she and the elderly couple weren't the only ones staring. All around them, there were other curious passengers who would toss the couple furtive, sideward glances, as if the two women were a freakshow display at the circus.

Lara found herself wondering if she and Sam would receive the same kind of public reception if they were to date. After all, homosexuality wasn't typical, especially for a noble like herself. The deeper Lara thought into the matter, the more numerous the conflicts that arose. She imagined that if she did decide to be in a public relationship with Sam, local activists would swarm to her as a symbol for their movement because of her social standing even though she was just a mere Countess. Did she want to receive that kind of attention?

And what if Roth was like the elderly couple, was was now outright scowling at the unbothered lesbians because one lesbian had pecked the other on the cheek? Lara began to chew on her bottom lip again as her headache experienced a resurgence. So what should she do? Never broach the topic with Sam? Never act on or address the feelings she has for her best friend? Just avoid the issue? It was then that Lara remembered the words Roth had said to her shortly after Catherine had exposed who she was the previous semester:

"...you don't realize you're acting exactly like your father by avoiding your problems and hiding them away."

Her head gave a particularly nasty twinge, and Lara gnashed her teeth together. She was suddenly incapable of sitting still or comfortably. Her ears rang. Her leg bounced. Why was Roth always right? The elderly couple began to get louder in their grumbling across from her.

"...and now these sodding queers have the fucking gall-" Sam's head snapped upright at the mention of 'queers' and Lara felt like her head was about to explode if she didn't find some sort of release right then and there.

"Excuse me," Lara cut in with a loud growl. The elderly couple jumped and looked over at her in surprise. It took one look in their weasley eyes for her to decide that she hated them–found their entire existence repugnant. "What?" Lara demanded with a scowl, "Your marriage so vile and unfulfilling that a couple in love is such a foreign sight to you?"

"Wot? You takin' the piss?" the old man demanded, raising his voice back at Lara.

"You want a fucking circus? Go to Picadilly, you gits."

"Lara," Sam squeaked quietly from the sidelines.

"In my time," the old woman said, pointing a shaking hand at Lara, "we never would have talked to our elders so disrespectfully!"

"Yeah? Well your time is past, you old bat. In my time, we let people exist instead of judging them."

"Listen here you posh trollop-!" the old man began.

"Ah, so now we're jumping to misogyny? Yeah, I'm posh, which means I've probably had a better education than you, you ignorant muppet-!" The train stopped where Lara and Sam were supposed to get off, and the automated voice saying 'mind the gap' interrupted Lara before she could truly unleash her wrath on the devils before her. "You're lucky this is our stop." Lara spat. She didn't bother to look over at the lesbian couple that she had tried to defend as she rushed off the Tube with Sam.

"Where did that come from?" Sam demanded from behind.

"People have been having sex with the same gender for milennia, just look at the Greeks-"

"Okay, you're preaching to the choir here, but that's not what I'm talking about. I'm talking about the anger and aggression. Sure, they were ignorant assholes, but were they worth the energy?"

"How can you possibly say that?"

"Because I'm used to people like them. They're everywhere, Lara." Lara didn't say anything and just continued to walk back to the flat. "Lara."

"What?" Lara demanded, her voice raising in spite of her best effort.

"Can you tell me what's been on your mind? You've been off for a hot second, and you're rarely off, so I'm concerned."

"Sam…" Lara pleaded.

"You can't just-"

"Why can't 'no' just mean 'no' right now?" Lara didn't intend to sound as irritated as she did; she knew Sam was only prying because she cared. Nonetheless, her voice cracked like a whip and Sam winced. Lara felt a tinge of sympathy, but it was quickly overshadowed by her head. She just wanted her head to stop hurting. Telling Sam would only make her head hurt worse. Telling Sam would ruin everything. But Sam was already mad at her for not telling her, for not talking to her. What could she do?

Sam sighed and let the matter drop. Lara felt guilt stew in her gut as they finished their walk in silence. The longer silence held between them, the more hollow her chest felt by the minute. Why couldn't things be simpler?

When they finally got back to the flat, Sam set her bags down on the coffee table and grabbed up the box that contained her bedding. Wordlessly, she proceeded into a bedroom to claim it as her own and snapped the door shut behind her. As Lara stared at the closed door, she felt a feeling surge within her. What even was that feeling? She'd felt it before. When, though? Why?

Sam wasn't there to yell at her, so she grabbed her boxes of bedding and pyjamas and walked into the other bedroom. What was that feeling she was experiencing? She shut the door behind her and made her bed as she thought, trying to dig up the memory of the emotion she was feeling so she could put a label to it. Dig as she did with her trowel, her own history eluded her until she gave up and flopped down onto her bed. Maybe a nap would help her migraine?

She closed her eyes and tried to clear her head, taking slow even breaths through her nose. If nothing else, the cool darkness of the insides of her eyelids were soothing. It was hard to sleep, however, without the sounds of Sam's breathing five feet away from her. Lara hadn't realized just how accustomed she'd become to sharing such an enclosed space with her roommate.

That feeling was back again. As was the throbbing in Lara's head. Lara tried her best to ignore them and just be, to acknowledge the thoughts but let them pass.

She began to relax, and her brain became like a radio, scanning through different frequencies, deciding which station to listen to before finally settling on one…

Roanoke, founded in 1585. The colony was chartered by Walter Raleigh in an attempt to establish a permanent English settlement in the New World. The colony failed, then John White attempted to found the city of Raleigh. White went to England for supplies but was delayed in his return to the colony for two years. Upon his return, he found the settlement deserted, with nary a clue but a tree upon which the word 'CROATOAN' was etched.

CROATOAN.

CROATO…

CRO…

CROFT.

Croft Manor. She could recognize the setting but it was blurry, out of focus, like the person who recorded the show she was watching had no clue how to operate their equipment–but wait! It began to come into focus. There were some echoing voices in the background. They were familiar. Whose were they?

"...What do you mean she's not coming back? I thought she was just going on an art tour?" Was that her own voice?

"Lara…" The other voice was deep, British like her own. Was that…?

"I know you love her dad, but aren't you being dramatic? She'll be back soon enough. We won't even notice she's gone. That's what you told me."

"Lara…" Richard's voice quaked with emotion, "Lara you need to understand. Your mother…she isn't coming back. Not after a year. Not ever."

"What are you saying?"

"Your mother, she…"

"Dad?" Young Lara asked. Richard kneeled down in front of her and put a hand on each of her shoulders.

"She's gone, Lara. But I can fix it. I just need some time."

"Dad, you're not making any sense."

"I can make things right, I just need to find a few more pieces to the puzzle…"

"Dad, you're scaring me!"

Lara bolted upright with tears in her eyes. She couldn't remember the last time she had cried. Except she did, she just remembered. She just remembered everything: the end of her childhood and the beginning of her adulthood. That was the feeling she felt when Sam closed the door on her.

Desertion. Abandonment. That's what it was called. Just like what the settlers did to Roanoke.

Keep in mind: Sam knows that Lara likes her. Lara does not know that Sam knows that she likes her.

My Twitter handle is WhatThe_Schmuck

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