After the dancing the musicians disappeared, coffee and araq was brought forth in copious quantities, and the storytelling began. Baba Hussain took his turn first.
Lara soon learned that Bedouin stories were tragically romantic and dealt with lost love, freedom and most of all, honour. As the hour became later and the amount of araq in Lara's blood raised she could understand less and less of the complex structures of the traditional tales told in lively Arabic. There were a lot of unfamiliar words to her. Hussain translated occasionally, but mostly concentrated on listening and casting the occasional sideways glances at Lara.
The stories made her sad. Love was scarce in her life and sometimes she felt as though the fact was twisting her insides like a knife, but still, would she personally choose death over love?
The honour part brought her down to Earth even more. In the stories parents abandoned, even slaughtered their own children if they'd committed terrible crimes of the muhlikat type – murder, rape or suchlike. Shouldn't the society punish them rather than their family?
Suddenly Lara realized that in the desert, there was no society. Only family. And if something threatened it the passage of daily life was in danger as well, and something had to be done. An honest, hard-working Bedouin prospered. A deceitful and cruel one perished.
Still, hadn't Lara herself been slaughtered emotionally by her Father? Could any crime be worth that? And what crime had she committed against him?
Hours later, when the oil in the lamps had burned to the core, pastries had run out, noone could possible drink another drop of coffee, and the araq pans were empty, Hussain lead Lara through the sleepy camp into a slightly smaller tent with two 'rooms' separated by a thick canvas somehow anchored onto the ground. Hussain gave Lara several blankets, spread her a mattress, made sure she had some hot water, and retired to his own side.
First Lara just sat onto the mattress, took off her boots, crinkled her nose at her sweaty feet, and then washed her face, hands and feet after relieving her bloated bladder behind a lonely bush off the campsite. Then she stripped off her regular clothes underneath the gallabia, and almost failed to notice Hussain had supplied her another gallabia as well – a paper-thin white one. She changed clothes completely, thankful for the fresh water and clean clothes.
She wasn't on her own and for a change it felt quite good. She wondered what it was like being looked after like this on a daily basis. Dull but secure, most likely. Could she live like that? Not in a million years. But could a Westerner mold his or her own way of living here amongst the Sirhan with regard to the rules of courtesy but not submitting to certain traditions concerning male and female roles? She did not know.
She laid down onto the mattress, buried herself under the thick, woolly blankets and closed her eyes. Sleep, it seemed, was still far way.
After hours of tossing and turning Lara decided she could not sleep. She felt restless, as though something was still missing and she could not make out what it was exactly. She was more than used to not sleeping in her own bed, which seemed to be quite an important factor for some people but not her. She had discovered she could sleep anywhere. Usually, while working, she either did not sleep at all if the situation called for alertness, or slept well.
This was different. There was too much in her mind and she yearned with her very being for something to intrude in this turmoil.
She gave up trying to will herself to sleep, tossed and turned for a last hopeless round, and got up, trying to move quietly so she would not wake anyone.
She walked to the entrance. The door fabric was half-open, the sides flapping in the wind. Lara gazed out into darkness.
The desert called out to her. It was as though she could sense millions of life forms, tiny little flickering lives, rays of light from the moon that illuminated the scene from the cloudless sky. Distant trees took eerie shapes, shadows shifted.
The wind was cold but not bitter. The hem of Lara's dress moved like a ghost in the breeze, the soft touch of it reminding that she wore nothing underneath the almost transparent garment.
It was incredible how many stars could be seen when city lights did not interfere. The sky was different everywhere. In Egypt it was high, almost unfriendly, and the stars patterned in the shape of ancient gods. Home in England the sky was a depressing sight – it drooped low, throwing down rain, sleet and whatever it came up with.
Here it had no personality, just a vast, endless veil of darkness and light. It seemed as if one looked carefully enough, one could see beyond it to some forgotten mystery, to long-lost secrets.
Lara closed her eyes. This was where she felt alive. Alive and breathing. Not tied up by expectations, professional relationships and endless, pretentious small talk that always replaced more crucial matters.
This was all. All there really was to it.
Suddenly, like due to some sixth sense or premonition, she realized someone was standing behind her. She did not move, did not turn around for there was nothing to be wary of.
Funny, she thought, All my life I've been afraid that one day someone would be able to creep up on me.
A soft hand touched her arm. She closed her eyes. The touch traced her arm down to her hand, slowly trailing a line on her palm and then letting go. Gently, like the cool air.
Lara shivered in the wind – or was it from something else?
She tried to observe her thoughts from afar. She had not felt like this for years. Her heart began to pound, blood rushed in her veins. Her whole being was slowly beginning to ache out for something she did not fully understand, only sense. She needed this. Wanted this. As though it was the only water that could kill the flame of confusion and pain inside her.
A voice in her head asked: "Why?"
Another replied: "Why not?"
Suddenly there was a choreography. It had not been rehearsed, just an imprinted course of actions that came from so deep neither of them recognized its source. Lara turned, and two bodies snaked around each other and melted into one. Lara's hands found a place created by some unknown force just for her, at the small of his back.
Hussain closed Lara's plait inside his palm and slowly pulled the leather string off, releasing her sweaty brown locks.
Then she pushed him slightly away from her body, and kissed him. She did not know how long their lips were pressed, unmoving. It felt as though eternity had passed in a second.
She was so completely present, and in another sense, utterly gone. There was no Lara Croft, just an empty shell of sighs, and a pounding heart.
His hands travelled higher, bringing her close. Lara buried her face in his chest, the scent intoxicating her like nothing had before.
Slowly, never letting go, sharing the tiniest of touches between lips, they made their way to Lara's mattress, and lay down side to side.
For a split second Lara prepared for the moment he'd see her, truly see her, her scars, burns and old wounds, and discard her like a dusty bone. But somehow everything she felt inside told her he could see beyond her, beyond this bruised body and weary mind.
Neither could tell how their garments simply seemed to disappear – neither could tell when or where they had been discarded. He covered her shivering body with his, and his weight took Lara even further away than she'd been.
I'm not here. I'm gone.
He trailed a scar under her left breast and to Lara it felt as though the old mark of injury disappeared as his finger made its silent journey across her tingling skin. It was as though the scar had moved from her body into her mind, turning slowly into an old, fading memory.
His slightest touch – she could no longer tell exactly where his hands or lips were, every little touch spread over her entire skin like electricity – his slightest touch made her cry for release, as though she was something infinite trapped inside a coffin of flesh and blood. Slowly, she joined his movements.
She could no longer comprehend the concept of time. It was right there, right then, he was under her skin, inside her body, in her heart, filling her very being, turning her dust-dried body into a heavenly creature of fire and water.
I'm gone.