A/N: 'Ello again! As promised… shirtless Kurtis!

Last revised 11/07/08

Tuesday morning saw Lara outside at sunrise, 9mm in hand and a row of cans sat atop the fence thirty feet away. Itching for some target practice, she had obtained permission from Jean out of consideration for his hangover, and promised to stop as soon as their expected visitors arrived. Half an hour later, she was almost ready to finish. She reloaded, and sighted at the lone can stood opposite her, deciding to make her last shot perfect.

One, two – A bullet whistled past her, striking the can, which fell with a resounding clatter to the ground. Instinct taking over, Lara ducked and spun in one fluid movement, eyes narrowed, seeking out her attacker. As recognition seeped into her adrenaline-fuelled brain, she let herself relax a little, rising from her crouching shooter's stance and holstering her weapon.

Kurtis leaned out of the first-floor window to the bedroom Jean had allocated him, Boran X held in one hand and an irritated expression on his face. He was shirtless, and the sight of his muscular torso made her breath catch. "Can't a man sleep?" he asked, running his spare hand through his tousled locks. Now, there's something I wouldn't mind seeing every morning. Lara pushed the unwanted thought roughly away and shot him an icy look before beginning to gather up the bullet-peppered cans. She studiously avoided looking at him until her task was complete, and when she turned back to the window, he was gone.

Bugger. They'd gotten so close last night. How could everything be so different just a scant eight hours on? She glanced at her watch – still two hours before she could realistically expect Jean's family to pour in. Marianne, his wife, had decided that since Jean was here, they might as well take the opportunity for an impromptu holiday. She and their son, Jacques, were flying in from Nice that morning. Lara was looking forward to seeing them, but she didn't think she could stand to be cooped up in the house until then. Time to go for a drive. "Jean…?" she called.

Five minutes later, 9mm riding in the passenger seat, Lara drove the battered old Jeep full-pelt down the deserted road towards the market town Jean had informed her was half an hour away. It wasn't exactly her Harley V-Rod, but the vehicle could build up a surprising speed for a clapped out, four-wheeled mode of transport.

Twenty minutes after she had set out, Lara arrived at the small settlement. It didn't appear to have a name, as far as she could discern, and 'town' had been an exaggeration. It was more like a small village, with a market square at its heart and a few streets of houses clustered nearby. She stopped the Jeep and got out, pocketing the keys and strolling up to the congregation of stalls.

They held little of interest – fruit and vegetables, hand-dyed clothing, tacky, locally-made jewellery – and she had almost made up her mind to leave when she reached a stall at the end of a row, upon which stood a variety of trinkets and curiosities. Although she was able to keep her head in a crisis, Lara was not altogether infallible. She had a magpie-like weakness for shiny things, and it was this weakness that caused her to stop.

The stall-owner, a toothless old woman, smiled and nodded at Lara as she reached for a small stone box with intricate carvings on its lid. Studying them, she almost dropped the item in shock. It can't be related. What are the odds that…

Lara had come across the symbols in the Strahov fortress, carved into a slab of stone that had been positioned underneath industrial saws. At the time, she'd not known what they meant, but, always the scholar, she had jotted some down to analyse later. She'd visited several learned professors, all of whom had been powerfully intrigued, but none of which could shed any light as to their meanings. Now, as she stared in incredulity at the palm-sized box in her hand, she recalled the ancient, unknown language, and knew the two were linked somehow.

Although not fluent in the local language, Lara knew enough to get by. "Where did you find this?" she asked, careful not to sound too urgent.

The woman grinned at her accent, but replied slowly, aware she was talking to a foreigner. "There was an earthquake, last month. A bad one – it swallowed up an entire house. My son was sent with the rescue team, and he brought it back for me to sell."

A-ha. "It's beautiful. How much is it?" she asked politely.

The price was extortionate, no doubt because the old woman was beginning to sense its value, but Lara paid up with minimal haggling and tucked it into her backpack. Thanking the ageing merchant, she went in search of the fissure that had managed to swallow a whole house. Since the village was so small, this wasn't a difficult task. She soon located the subterranean crevice, noted the ladder leading down into its depths – no doubt left by the 'rescue team' – and smiled. She would have hated to backtrack to Jean's to procure some rappelling gear, when a mystery lay just beneath her feet. A quick glance around to ensure she was not being observed, and she began to descend the ladder, which ended at a ledge a third of the way down.

From solid ground, Lara studied the walls of the cavern. She was adept at climbing and descending walls, provided the handholds were sturdy enough. It looked as if she was in luck here. As quickly as she could, she made her way down to the bottom of the fissure, losing her grip a scant six feet from the ground and dropping into a crouch as she landed.

Voices above – faint, but audible. Obviously, someone had seen her, or at least suspected someone was down here. Lara touched the holstered weapon at her hip to reassure herself she wasn't without protection, and decided to cross that bridge when she came to it. The hole in the rock amid the wreckage of the house had her undivided attention for now. Testing the ceiling cautiously with a hand, she stooped and began to crawl through, eyes widening in surprise at the sight that awaited her.

A vast chamber was cut into the rock, ornate carvings cut deeply into the walls at intervals. "Amazing," she murmured, reverence flooding her. No one went to trouble like this any more when burying their dead – for bury their dead this race had. The room was empty but for a rectangular stone sarcophagus, lacking the sculptured detail of the Egyptians but still managing to look out of the ordinary. More carvings adorned its surface.

Lara desperately hoped the tomb had not held any more treasures, that the old woman at the market stall had not sold all but that one piece. Somehow, she doubted it. But what was one, tiny, box doing in a room that bore nothing else but a sarcophagus? She looked down at the box, cupped within her palm, as she approached the coffin. Come to think of it… Had the box been broken from the coffin?

She examined the stone lid. A small, square chunk seemed to be missing, and when she placed the box into it, it fitted exactly. Yet it hadn't been forcibly removed. Whatever was in the box, it was meant to be buried with the body, in this precise little groove. However curious she was, something warned Lara not to open it just yet. Instead, she contented herself with trying to lever off the huge, heavy lid of the coffin. The task was as fruitless as she'd expected it to be, but she was determined to uncover every last secret in this fascinating place.

After taking fifty or more photographs of the walls and sarcophagus to download and study later, she crawled back out the way she'd come in, searching for something she could use as a crowbar for the coffin lid. Her profound interest in the carvings had made her unwary, and she stood up in front of three huge, muscle-bound men. None of them looked friendly.

What will Lara do? What do the box and tomb relate to? Who are these shady characters? What's Kurtis doing right at this moment? Wouldn't you like to know?!