Almost two weeks had passed since her escape from the Strahov, and Lara Croft had just received an unexpected phone call.
The accented voice on the other line informed her that she needed to return to Paris to claim the body of her former mentor, Werner Von Croy. The post-mortem on his body was now finished, and being of no further use in the Monstrum case it had to be disposed of. Werner had no living relatives to make the necessary funeral arrangements and anyone else who knew him was unable to be of any help, being dead and all.
Nevertheless Lara had insisted that there must be someone else—friend, colleague or otherwise—to arrange Werner's funeral. The man had haltingly explained that she was the last friend of Werner's left alive, and after a lot of hesitation Lara had finally submitted to his request. Now she replaced the phone in its cradle with a sigh as she studied the phone number and address that she had scribbled down for the morgue; it irked Lara to no end that the Parisian police had felt the need to disclose her contact details like that.
It was barely a week since Lara had been exonerated all of charges by Interpol, and for a few days she had foolishly dared to hope that the whole grisly business was now finished. After their search of the Strahov it had become obvious that Pieter van Eckhardt was the real Monstrum, and for days his menacing visage had been splashed across the papers and on constant rotation on the news channels. It seemed as if everyone had forgotten all about Lara Croft. She was grateful for the bliss of anonymity once again.
Early morning sunlight streamed across her bed as Lara pulled on a sleeveless black top; her hair was already fixed up in a braid as she slung her backpack across her shoulders. Her few possessions had not taken long to pack. It just remained to pay one last visit to the hospital before she left for Paris.
Lara felt a stir of regret as she went down to the front desk and checked out of her room. Despite her troubles in this city she had grown quite fond of Prague, with its rich history and its endless alleyways and winding side streets. It was a city in which one could get reassuringly lost; and if Lara Croft needed one thing at the moment it was to be lost from the world.
XXX
The walk to the hospital took only fifteen minutes. When Lara arrived she found Kurtis out of bed and walking around, testing his nearly-acquired strength with the help of a nurse. He was due to be discharged the next day and looked to be in high spirits. Lara was pleasantly surprised by the rate at which he was recovering, and wondered whether Kurtis had some special Lux Veritatis healing powers that she did not know about. When Lara asked him about it he only gave her a conspiratorial grin.
Only a few days earlier Lara had summoned up the courage to tell Kurtis about Karel and his shape-shifting abilities. She suspected that the news that it might not have been Eckhardt who had killed his father was giving Kurtis further impetus to get out of his hospital bed. Lara had voiced her fears that the explosion back in the Strahov had not killed Karel, and Kurtis had agreed with her. A mere explosion, he said, could not kill a true Nephilim; the creatures were virtually indestructible. The only known way to kill them had been the Periapt Shards, but those had since been burned asunder by the incineration of Eckhardt's lab. They could not afford to let their guard down just yet.
Coverage of the investigation into the Strahov was playing upon the television bracketed to the ceiling as Lara settled down into the chair at Kurtis' bedside. By now the nurse had helped him back into bed again and left to give them some privacy. Lara studied the images which flickered across the television screen with a frown.
"Talk about overkill," she muttered. "You'd think they would find something new to speculate about by now."
Kurtis turned to her with a smile.
"You've never seen Fox News, have you?"
They both continued to watch quietly for a moment. Lara folded her arms and leant back in her chair, feeling oddly comfortable in his presence. She felt a little less guilty about leaving Kurtis alone in Prague when she saw how well his condition was improving. The past two weeks had been something of a crash course as the two had gotten to know each other in whirlwind fashion. It was strange, really, for Lara had not even learnt Kurtis' surname until the day after his surgery. Somehow they had gone about the process of getting to know each other in reverse; they had shared a life-changing experience before they had even exchanged social niceties.
Idly Lara fiddled with the scarab amulet hanging at her neck. It was a nervous habit she had picked up ever since acquiring the necklace. She was completely oblivious to Kurtis' eyes upon her until he said the words:
"So what's the deal with your necklace then?"
"Hmm?" Lara was pulled from her reverie with a jolt. Kurtis gestured towards her with a nod.
"Your necklace," he said. "Every time I look you seem to be playing with that thing. What's the deal with it?"
Lara felt her cheeks flush as she met his eyes; quickly she tucked the necklace on its chain back inside her tank top. Suddenly she felt ashamed.
"Egypt," she told him. Her voice was hauntingly quiet. "I got it in Egypt."
The two exchanged a knowing look at these words. With an awkward cough Kurtis sagged back against his pillows and did not question her further. Although they had exchanged a lot of conversation over the last two weeks both Lara and Kurtis had agreed to set boundaries for topics which would remain strictly taboo. Lara had kept schtum about her harrowing experience in Egypt and subsequent period of exile; she was sure that Kurtis was hiding something similarly painful from her. Although he had told her a little about his father she got the feeling that there was a lot of confusing and turbulent history there that he did not wish to delve into. Perhaps there were other things as well.
The two resumed their perusal of the news until a string of lurid commercials began. Kurtis gave a sigh and switched off the volume with the remote control which was resting on top of the bedcovers.
"So is this a social visit?" he asked. "Or do you have some business to attend to?"
His tone was jovial, but Lara sensed a deeper hurt there. He had probably been expecting this for a while. After all, it had been a week since Lara had been cleared by Interpol and effectively freed to return to England. She could not linger by his hospital bed forever. Eventually she had to get back to her old life.
Lara sighed.
"It's a bit of both," she conceded. "I thought that I should come down and say my goodbyes." She reached into the pocket of her trousers and produced a rather crumpled piece of paper. She unfolded the note and handed it to Kurtis, who took it with some hesitation. "I got a call from Paris. I need to go back." She watched Kurtis' face as he studied the scribbled note. "It's Werner… I need to organise his funeral."
Kurtis gave a gentle smile.
"And this is your phone number, is it?"
"Afraid not." Lara smiled back. "Thanks to a police dog in Paris I'm going to have to invest in a new phone." She watched as Kurtis folded the note again. "That's the number for the morgue in Paris. If you need to reach me then give them a call - I'll leave contact details with them once I find a hotel."
With a nod Kurtis leant over and slipped the folded note beneath the glass of water perched upon his bedside table. For a moment neither spoke. Lara broke the silence with a soft exclamation; she swung her backpack from her shoulders and cast a wary glance towards the door.
"I almost forgot," she said. "These belong to you." From the depths of her backpack she produced his gun and the Chirugai; the latter began to quiver a little in his presence. "I can't keep them in my hotel room anymore, so you'll have to find somewhere to hide them until you're discharged. You'll need some sort of protection in case…"
Lara trailed off at these words, looking suddenly anxious. Kurtis caught her gaze and could not help but grin.
"I appreciate the concern," he said. "But I can't exactly keep these things in my bedside drawer..."
Lara withdrew the items with a frown, thinking hard for a moment. Then she looked about the room in her search for a suitable hiding place. There seemed to be an abundance of drawers and closet space in this room, but all of these were filled with medical equipment and supplies. Neither was it possible to hide the weapons beneath Kurtis' bed, for the wide space beneath could not happily conceal anything, let alone a gun and a bladed weapon. Lara was about to admit defeat when something above Kurtis' bed caught her eye.
"No problem," she said. And Lara shifted her chair a little before climbing on top of it and stashing Kurtis' gun, holster and Chirugai inside the scooped light above his bed. Kurtis watched with amusement as Lara descended from the chair again and brushed some stray hair from her eyes. "There you go," she said. "Now they're within easy reach."
Kurtis raised an eyebrow.
"And what happens if someone notices the suspicious gun-shaped shadow in the lampshade?"
Lara shot him a look.
"They won't," she said. "Besides, you can always distract them with the pretty colours emanating from your Chirugai as it whizzes across the room…" She was clasping together the buckle of her backpack with one hand as she spoke, and did not notice Kurtis watching her with glistening eyes.
"Lara," he said. With a smile he reached out a hand and touched it to hers where it rested lightly upon the bedcovers. Before she could react Kurtis had scooped up her palm in his and raised it to his lips. "Thank you," he murmured, kissing the back of her palm. "I think I owe you my life."
Lara was caught completely off-guard by this gesture. For a moment she could not speak as he slowly released her hand. Eventually a warm smile spread across her face.
"You're welcome," she said. Distractedly she swung her backpack across her shoulders again. For a moment she stared down at her hands in her lap, and then she looked up at him with a coy smile. "So I was thinking," she ventured delicately. "Since you do owe me your life and all… Perhaps borrowing your motorbike to drive to Paris might help to repay that debt…"
Kurtis burst into laughter at the suggestion. It dissipated as quickly as it had come when he noticed the serious look upon Lara's face. He raised an incredulous eyebrow at her.
"No," he said. "Hell no."
"Oh, come on, Kurtis!" she cried. "It's not like you're going to be riding around on the thing. You've just recovered from major surgery!"
Kurtis settled back against his pillows and laughed again.
"You seriously think I'm gonna let you ride off with my bike, Croft?"
She shook her head in exasperation as she stood up.
"I have three motorbikes at home, Kurtis. Why do you think I would take off with yours?"
"Well," Kurtis said in a quiet voice, "we haven't known each other that long..."
Lara just rolled her eyes good-naturedly and headed for the door.
XXX
Without the use of Kurtis' motorbike Lara was forced to rely on public transportation in order to reach Paris. Luckily she still had plenty of cash from her business dealings in the French capital, and was able to book herself a last-minute seat on the Orient Express. It may have been only a week since she was a wanted criminal, but Lara Croft could still afford luxury.
The train would take less than a day to reach Paris, and Lara was determined to get the entire Werner business over and done with as quickly as possible. After that she had no idea what she would do. She was free to return to England, it was true, but the prospect of going home filled her with a sense of emptiness it was impossible to describe.
The luxury of her surroundings distracted Lara from such dark thoughts as she stepped up onto the running board of the Orient Express. There she displayed her ticket to the conductor and made her way carefully through the train carriage, walking the aisle past plush brown sofas and footstools laden with richly-dressed passengers. The blue-and-gold exterior of the Orient Express was like something from a bygone era; the interior was an infusion of rich mahogany and brass, a reminder of the golden age of rail when the pace of life was noticeably slower.
Lara garnered a number of questioning looks as she made her way through the carriage, dressed as she was in her unconventional attire of tank top, camouflage pants and climbing boots. If Lara noticed these glances then she did not acknowledge them. Not until she reached the bar at the end of the carriage did she break her stride. There she ordered a brandy - an entire bottle rather than just a glass. As she handed over her money Lara failed to notice a dark stranger watching her intently from the far end of the train, his unshaven face illuminated by the orange glow of a nearby lamp.
XXX
The grim reason for her journey caused Lara to descend into a dark mood, and she politely declined the other passengers' invitations to dinner. Instead she sat alone in her private compartment, nursing the beginnings of a headache; slowly she poured herself a glass of brandy and mulled over the events of the last few weeks. She was both mentally and physically exhausted. The feeling was enough to make her want to break down and cry.
With a grimace of distaste Lara gulped down some of her brandy, cursing herself for admitting such weakness. She had dealt with death and destruction all of her life; hardship was the very thing that defined her. So why did the prospect of leaving a man whom she hardly knew get her so upset? Perhaps it was because he was the last person she had to cling to now. Her butler had left her services shortly after the whole Egypt business, and the day Werner had contacted her that autumn was her first real contact with the outside world in a very long time. She had cut herself off from everyone she once knew. Long ago she had learnt that it was easier not to let anyone in. Hers was a dangerous lifestyle, and the last few weeks were a perfect example of what could happen to anyone Lara Croft held dear.
As she sunk back into her seat Lara's necklace chinked against the side of her brandy glass. It pulled her away from her thoughts for a moment. Suddenly she recalled the words of advice Putai had given her upon the eve of her trip to Paris:
Whenever your need is strong, remember the amulet. It will help you to learn.
Many times Lara had searched for Putai's guiding voice somewhere deep in her subconscious, only to be greeted by silence. She remained unsure how the mental connection between the tribal mystic and the scarab amulet worked, but Lara had learnt to recognise the familiar tug at her subconscious when Putai was present. Often Putai's voice came to her from nowhere to give encouragement or grave warning. Lately she felt as though the healer had abandoned her.
Soon Lara noticed that her glass was empty. Slowly she set about pouring herself another drink. She did not relish the prospect of seeing Werner's lifeless body again. Neither did she wish to return to Paris. The city held nothing but bad memories for her. Then again, it was also where she had met Kurtis.
Lara could never have imagined meeting such a kindred spirit in the middle of all this chaos. She felt her heart race at the memory of his hand running lightly down her arm, trailing at her thigh and then skimming across her abdomen with restrained desire. And the intense blue of his eyes as she had leant in closer to steal a forbidden kiss…
It was with great effort that Lara dragged her thoughts out of the gutter. She threw back another brandy, letting the bitter taste in her mouth distract her mind from further thoughts about a certain American. It was hard to do so, however, when Lara remembered the chivalrous way that he had kissed the back of her palm that morning.
Outside the view from her window revealed the setting sun dipping below the distant Carpathian Mountains; the soft glow of her desk lamp was now the only light in the darkened compartment. Suddenly Lara realized how late it was. She thought fleetingly about heading to the bar to get some food, or at least calling the porter to order another bottle of brandy.
Any such thoughts were interrupted by the unmistakeable crack of a gunshot further down the train.
XXX
I'd like to thank everyone who reviewed the last chapter. I would have updated earlier but my internet was down for a •few• days. No fanfiction for days… What is the world coming to?!