Next chapter up already - you lucky people. ;-) No, I've not been working feverishly - I wrote this before I wrote the previous two chapters, since it was easier. I was hiding from the action scenes. LOL

...and Tribulations

The duo took in their surroundings, checking for final traps. An even flagstone floor stretched out throughout the cave, disappearing in all directions into deep shadows that camouflaged the walls and created their own false ceiling. The column that could only contain their prize stood in the centre, a luminous feature creating its own ephereal domain against the darkness. Slowly, stealthily, Lara crept towards it. Decorated with red and green triangles outlined in gold, the flat top was empty. Mindful of last-minute booby traps, she gasped as her foot fell on a flagstone directly in front of the structure that sunk into the floor as her weight depressed it. With the grinding of stone against stone, the top of the column flipped itself over on invisible hinges, presenting – an empty cradle where the Periapt Tip was supposed to rest.

A myriad of clicks filled the room behind and above her, and Lara spun to find herself face to face with her 'dead' teammates, emerged from the shadows with their guns cocked and aimed, red laser targets dancing over her torso.

A slow, sarcastic clapping snatched her already confused attention away to the back of the room, once again behind her. Closing her eyes in realisation, Lara cursed silently and scolded herself. She didn't need to turn around to know who it was.

"Mr Cheney." Her voice relayed the now obvious.

He came to her side and smiled, his eyes amused as they met her own, stormy. "Bravo. Quite a performance. And the same could be said for our fine actors, don't you think?" He gestured to Lara's mutinous team, a subtle laugh escaping from his lips. "You didn't doubt their deaths for a second, did you?"

"No. Absolutely fabulous." Lara sounded her applause, mocking and sophisticated in the face of adversity as ever. "Though I think it's Mr Trent that deserves the Oscar, don't you?" She smiled at him sarcastically where he stood behind the soldiers, shifting uncomfortably and refusing to meet her gaze. Pathetic, she thought. "He was so convincing in this whole charade, even though he knew that you – had – the Shard – all – along." She turned back to Cheney, her eyebrow raised questioningly.

"Indeed we did."

"And this was..." Lara gestured to the general surroundings – soldiers who'd faked their own deaths, the trip through the Periapt Complex, Kurtis' lies.

"A test." Mr Cheney started pacing contemplatively, hands clasped loosely behind his back, long wool coat swaying gently. "We needed someone strong, and you seemed a likely candidate. Making it through the Periapt Complex was...proof that you were what we were looking for. You'll notice that Kurtis specifically did nothing to assist you."

"And you got the Shard how?"

"Through the back door." Cheney stopped and smiled at Lara, then, at her puzzled expression, gestured to a dark corner of the cavern. "There's a doorway out that can only be opened from the inside using the Shard – or from the outside using C4 explosive. I don't think the Knights Templar foresaw that particular triumph of pyrotechnics." He laughed quietly again, then raised his voice so that it could be heard by those further away. "I believe we're done here. Mr Trent, you assured me that you're one of the few that can handle the good Ms Croft – if you could oblige."

Kurtis stepped forward, the reluctance in his movements clear to Lara, but they bought no sympathy with her. Forcing him to meet her gaze as he reached her, she spoke, her voice quiet and matter-of-fact.

"Traitor."

"Lara..." he began, but Cheney cut him off, barking an order. "Mr Trent! Today!"

Kurtis' eyes closed briefly, the expression on his face pained. Slowly, he raised his gun between them and clicked the safety off. "Let's go."

Lara turned and ran. Ducking down and flailing her arms as she tried to keep her head protected, she sprinted for the exit earlier pointed out by Mr Cheney as bullets rained down around her, the sounds of ricochets and chipping stone filling the cave with a deafening row that only fuelled her on. She heard Kurtis scream her name, but if it meant anything to her, she did nothing.

The doorway loomed up ahead of her, what glances she managed to snatch in her haste revealing its rubble laden form to open into a dark, barely lit passage way. Throwing herself through, she skidded to a halt and spun sideways, her arms arcing out for balance as she glanced behind her, the clatter of footsteps as her enemies took chase echoing through the space and spurring her on to turn and scramble up the rapidly ascending rocky slope, only metres ahead of her pursuit.

The dark concealing her and the confined space protecting her from gunfire that would have risked the opposition too much for them to open fire, she became more confident that she might just make it. Her arms were bruised, scratched and cut as she ran blindly, feeling her way with the collisions of her body against the hard rock and scrabbling over the stony, uneven surface. The tunnel rounded sharply, and Lara cried out as she ran straight into the wall as it curved, carrying on along the new path and stopping abruptly as she found herself in a pool of light falling down from above, water at her feet. It took only a split second for her to realise that the true path lay under the water, glistening blackly like jet in the night spilling down from the hole drilled into the rock above her. The hole led straight up to the surface and was furnished with a new, steel ladder drilled in place along its length of three or four metres – clearly, the doorway was not the only thing that The Company had blasted into submission. Praying that the commotion far too close behind her would mask the splash, she took a breath and dove into the water, disappearing into the blackness that sucked her in with an icy mouth.

Kurtis, heading the group, rounded the corner of the passage-way and took the few steps to the water's edge just as it began to return to the still normality of an undisturbed surface, his eyes fixed on the final, slow ripples. The soldiers came close behind, clattering to a halt and making way for Mr Cheney as he shoved his way through from the back.

"Where did she go?" he demanded, his face in Kurtis', eyes flashing in anger.

"I don't know. Up the ladder, I guess. She moves pretty fast."

"What about the water?"

"Lara's crazy, but she isn't stupid. She isn't about to go diving into ice-cold water without air for god knows how long without thinking it through first."

Cheney spun round to face his team, still blazing with anger. "Well?! You heard him, get up there!"

Obediently, the team began to scramble up the ladder, diving out onto the surface and dispersing in a search pattern, leaving Cheney staring up at them, and Kurtis staring down at the silent, inky depths of the pool, looking like they hadn't been broken in a thousand years.

Forcing herself to stay calm, Lara kept her movements to a minimum to conserve oxygen as she used her hands to pull herself along the top of the deep, winding water-filled tunnel that she had dived into, praying that she'd find air soon. It was pitch black – too dark to swim – and her only hope was to feel her way along the path wherever it may lead.

The roof of the tunnel began to curve upwards, but the floor that her feet had been dragging along in an attempt to find extra guidance, dropped away from underneath her. If there was any air, it was going to be up, so she continued walking herself along the rocky side, her body relaxing in relief as her eyes managed to grab onto the tiniest amount of light beginning to filter through from above. Pushing herself off the rock face, she swam for the surface, her lungs beginning to feel the strain and her muscles beginning to cramp from the debilitating cold. Slowly, gradually, it got lighter, and just as she thought that she wouldn't make it, memories of nearly dying in the tunnels in her swimming pool back home threatening to pull her into a panic, she broke the surface, gasping in noisy lungfuls of air, splashing at the surface as her body spasmed at the last strangling moment of oxygen deprivation.

Managing to gain control of herself once again, her head darted around as she took in her surroundings. Trees, streetlights, a pathway alongside the edge of the water that stretched parallel in either direction for as far as she could see – a river. Lara was in the River Thames.

Laughing in relief, she swam for the edge, hauling herself onto dry land and rolling over onto her side, immediately curling into a ball and rubbing her forearms in a desperate attempt to warm up. Her teeth chattered, and she knew that unless she got moving soon, and fast, hypothermia would set in. She pulled herself to her feet and shed her dripping flak jacket that only served to make her colder and flung it into the river to be lost to the depths. She wrung out her ponytail, brushed off as many droplets of water off her arms and legs as she could manage, and began running.

Mr Cheney, shadowed by Kurtis, stood and stared out over the moor land above the Periapt Complex, watching the Company agents that had lost Lara try to find her again. Over the other side of the moor, a helicopter swept a search light back and forth, the muted beats of its blades providing a comforting backdrop in the otherwise quiet, windy environment. Booker, the most senior of the team, tramped over the muddy grass and addressed his boss.

"Mr Cheney, Sir – she must have gone into the water. It's unlikely that she made it up the ladder and out onto the moor before we got there, but downright impossible that she'd get away from us up here. We've got your helicopter sweeping the area, people using infrared, Prosser's our best tracker and she can't find any evidence Croft was even here."

Cheney pursed his lips and stared out over the wilderness, considering the statement. And then, without turning around, he said, "Oh, Mr Trent. I'm beginning to think that you might have lied." He looked over his shoulder at Kurtis, who stared back and stood his ground, the only tell-tale sign of fear a dry swallow. Cheney moved in on his prey, a sly smile crossing his face. "She was only seconds ahead of us, and it isn't too much of a leap of the imagination to think that you saw her jump in and decided to let her get away." He began to circle Trent, who stood stock still and fought to keep his breathing under control. "You did promise me that you wouldn't let her work any charms on you, but a woman like that is very dangerous, and you're looking more and more unlike the strong-willed type." He came to rest in front of Kurtis, staring at him with hard eyes, daring him to disagree.

"I'll find her. Give me the resources of The Company, and I'll track her down. I know her, I know the way she thinks. I'll get her back to you, and your plan can go ahead with no more interruptions." To the casual listener, Kurtis' voice was sure and steady, but Cheney didn't miss the underlying tremble, complementing the slight shake of muscles that were held too tensely in a show of relaxation.

"Don't disappoint me, Trent. You've seen what happens to people who disappoint me. Death's the easy part."

Kurtis nodded once, quickly, and ran off to the van that had brought Lara and team here, to stock up on equipment and get moving before his second chance was retracted.

Hillary collapsed onto his bed back in the hotel and lay, breathing heavier than usual after the exertion of his night on the town. It was the first time he'd been still in almost four hours. "That was fun."

"Told you it would be." Bryce fell back onto his own bed and pulled off his shoes, kicking them tiredly towards the nightstand and flicking his socks over towards his suitcase, beginning a laundry pile.

"Rob was funny, wasn't he?"

"Rob was nuts." Bryce got up and shuffled towards the bathroom to prepare for some much needed sleep.

Hillary pulled himself back to a sitting position and picked up the TV remote control, flicking on the set and hopping through the channels available. "Hey, look – TV Japanese lessons!" He settled back into the pillows and began to emulate the words slowly spoken by the Japanese actress pretending to order dinner in a restaurant.

Inside the bathroom, Bryce rolled his eyes and began to brush his teeth.

By luck or coincidence, Bryce had kept his old London flat and it just happened to be not too far from where Lara had surfaced. Offering up a silent prayer of thanks, she ran through the streets, feeling the exhaustion before the body heat, which could only mean that she was far, far too cold.

The flat was one he'd shared during his student days. After graduation, he'd landed employment with Lara (lack of ideas of what else he could do to earn a living had pushed him to achieve the practically impossible and convince her that she needed him) and, whilst he cleared up a final few affairs that tied him to London before he could move to Croft Manor, she paid the rent on his flat that he could no longer afford now that his flatmates had moved out to their own employment. It had proved useful in offering shelter to Lara or Hillary on their frequent visits to the nation's capital, breaking up trips beginning and ending with long drives, proving to be far cheaper than a stay in an airport hotel before an early flight and acting as a nice storage locker for bits and pieces that no-one really knew what else to do with, so once Bryce had moved into his trailer in the manor, the lease was kept between him and Lara, and the flat became a halfway house for anybody wishing to use it.

And Lara had never been so grateful for it. What few articles that would have been useful that she'd brought to the expedition had been thrown away in the flak jacket, presumed useless after the cold and wet, her guns would never have survived the water, and she certainly hadn't bought a credit card or money with her.

She pushed open the door to the block of flats and jogged up the stairs, the dingy brown carpet faded and stained and the drab olive coloured walls chipped and scuffed. It was very definitely private accommodation aimed at students, and the perfect place to lie low. Reaching the third floor flat, she didn't even pause at her lack of a key. Checking that no-one was around, she aimed a hefty kick at the door and it swung open, banging back against the chair placed behind it and almost swinging closed again before Lara put her hand out to stop it and stepped inside.

She shut the door behind her, but it no longer closed properly, and it certainly didn't lock. Sighing in frustration, she grabbed the nearby chair and jammed it under the handle, then proceeded to back it up with the sideboard. The lights were flicked on, the curtains drawn, and then she went in search of clothes, food, drink and warmth.

She turned the gas fire on full, trotted into the bedroom to pull on some of the old clothes stored in a suitcase for emergencies, wrapped her hair up in a towel, and then searched the kitchen, finding powdered milk and teabags for a hot cup of tea, and boiling the kettle for that and for a filling, warming Pot Noodle found in one of the cupboards. There were very few other provisions. She considered going to one of the numerous student parties that was no doubt going on in the building and borrowing a phone to contact Bryce and Hillary but she was reluctant to not only risk giving away her position to The Company who, no doubt, had all the resources in the world to find her and probably weren't too far from finding out about the flat anyway, but also risking Bryce and Hillary by dragging them into the mess. Lara sighed, taking a hungry mouthful of the processed food and rubbing her temple where a tension headache was beginning to surface.

There was a handgun stashed under a floorboard, that would have to do until morning. Croft needed food, sleep, warmth and a shower, and couldn't think straight until she had them. Hopefully a decision about her next move could wait a few hours, until she'd rested.

Kurtis Trent stopped, standing in the middle of the road in a deserted, badly lit side street in the centre of London. He'd returned to The Company's headquarters to drop off things he didn't need and pick up others that he did, taking the time to change into a less conspicuous outfit of his own clothes instead of the combat gear he had been wearing, and to borrow a car. After driving a while, he'd become confident that he was away from the prying eyes of the members of The Company he'd left behind and could finally start his search for Lara without the feeling that Cheney was still looking over his shoulder. He didn't quite know how he was going to track her down if she wasn't where he hoped she was, but he definitely didn't want Cheney seeing his search hit dead ends.

He glanced back to check the parking of the Jeep Wrangler he'd borrowed, took out a cell phone and dialled an unlisted number, putting the handset to his ear and waiting for an answer. The ring tone stopped, suggesting the line had been answered, but no-one spoke.

"This is Kurtis Trent – on guest authorisation by Cheney." The line went dead. It was just another of The Company's little games masquerading as security measures. Until they'd checked his clearance, they were going to pretend they didn't even exist. Just moments later his phone rang, and he answered the line, placing it to his ear again and mimicking their own actions by not speaking.

"You're cleared," said a female voice.

"I need you to track an address down for me. An apartment in central London. Leased to either Lara Croft or Bryce Turing."

"That's all you have?"

"Used to be rented by students, so you can rule out anything too expensive."

Silence pervaded for several minutes but the line was held open. Kurtis moved over to the side of the street and leant against a wall, waiting, his spare hand stuffed deep in his leather jacket pocket against the cold, an old empty chip wrapper playing against his boots where his toes had caught it in the middle of its wind-driven tumble down the street.

"Flat 24, Ulmer Court, Hampton Avenue."

"Any idea how I get there?"

"Says here you have Jeep No 3?"

"Yeah."

"I'll download the co-ordinates of the building to the GPS system in the car. You'll find it in the glove box."

"Thanks."

The line once again went dead, and Kurtis trudged back to his Jeep, wrapping his leather jacket tightly around him.

Dawn was breaking as Kurtis pulled up outside Ulmer Court, Hampton Avenue.

He found his way up to Flat 24, noting the drab décor and badly maintained structure as he went, wondered why Lara didn't just find somewhere nicer to rent, and pulled out his gun.

He ever so slowly and carefully tried the door handle – it stuck fast, but the bottom of the door bent in slightly under his weight. Sighing, he removed his credit card from his wallet and, starting from the bottom, ran it along the crack between the door and the frame. It passed through the place where the lock should have been and continued on to the ceiling. That could only mean that she'd been here, kicked in the door, and now had something jammed under the handle, which meant that unless she'd found another way out, she was still in there. He quickly replaced his credit card in his jacket and shouldered the door, hoping to knock the blockage out of the way. After two shunts nothing gave, but on the third the door swung wide open and Kurtis tumbled into the flat. He fell, his leg hitting a haphazardly placed sideboard painfully, and found himself staring straight up at Lara, who stood above him with a triumphant smile on her lips, the offending chair in one hand, and a gun in the other pointed squarely at his head.

"Hello, Kurtis."