6. Pulse

Marie reached for the tea cup and took it by the handle. Before even lifting it she already knew she wasn't going to make it - not without paying the price of pain. So she instead reached out to hold the bowl of the cup and lifted it carefully.

It hurt anyway - but at least she kept it from falling, unlike many times before since her hands had become deformed and mostly useless. Feeling the warmth of the hot beverage was nice, though.

Lady Angeline watched her in silence, suppressing the urge to lean forward to hold her cup for her - an impulse she'd never had until she had to feed her disabled husband, a harsh experience. Fortunately, the proud Lord Henshingly had been alienated enough to not perceive what was happening: if not his illness, having to depend on another person would've killed him.

That American Indian was almost as proud and still perfectly lucid; so the old lady restrained her hands in her lap and watched Marie take the cup to her lips, then arched her eyebrows in surprise.

"What is it?" Lady Croft muttered.

Marie smiled. "Such good tea." She looked down at the golden liquid. "One of the best I've ever tasted."

Lady Angeline smiled politely, but she couldn't help lying back in the chair, stiffer. Of course it was good tea - the best she would taste in a while.

She looked away from her interlocutor, for it was sad to see how she struggled to hold the cup, and fixed her worried gaze on the garden maze that could be seen through the window. "It's been a half-hour," she snapped again, unable to hide a slight tinge of anguish. "I should go get her."

The Navajo woman continued to drink her tea as if it was no big deal. "You'd get lost in there, my dear." She couldn't help the sarcastic tone, but then she softened. "Don't worry. She's with her father, so she'll be fine. Let's give them some time."

Lady Croft had very serious doubts that her granddaughter was going to be fine with that man, but saying something more about it would've been utter rudeness.

And she, above all, was very polite.

"Aaaalrighty." Anna frowned. "You're looking at me in a very weird way, so I'm fucked up, right?"

"Y'know what I've been doing all these years, while you grew up?"

She shrugged. "Kill the baddies, get the girl, save the world..."

Kurtis smiled in spite of himself. She was still a child... "What I've always done: cleaning the world of demons." And he didn't mention he'd also been a spy, a merc, even a freelance agent. "So they couldn't approach your mother and you, even if they weren't supposed to do so, not until you awakened."

"I awakened?"

"The Gift awakened in you. In Sri Lanka, after that bastard hit you in the head." He shouldn't have been that abrupt, but whatever. There was no other way. Besides, Kurtis had never known how to deal with things differently. Brutality was his thing.

"I… I don't get it."

"Your wound was very serious. You had internal bleeding." Kurtis twisted uncomfortably. He sucked at talking, dammit. "But we had no way of knowing it. Then you lost consciousness and the Gift awakened in you. It healed you."

Anna gaped at him. Suddenly she stirred. "Cool!" She said, laughing. Suddenly she frowned. "Why on earth did you take so long to tell me?"

Because I'm a coward. Because I'm scared. "You were not ready to know."

"And now I am? Just because I went nuts? Please!" Anna jumped to her feet and began to wander around the Atlanteans, waving her arms. "I can't believe it! I'm a girl!"

"Some girls inherited the Gift in the past - but there weren't many of them, and they didn't live long."

"It's amazing!" She burst out, boiling with vitality.

She was happy, exultant - of course she was! She'd no clue about what that curse meant. Fuck. "Anna, this is not a game."

"When are you going to start training me?" She jumped, as if she'd not heard his last comment.

He took a deep breath. "First, you have to take it very seriously."

"I do!"

"No, you don't. You mind being quiet for a second?" He jumped when seeing the girl opening her mouth again. "Thank you. So, if you want me to train you..."

"I do!"

Kurtis grunted. Anna closed her mouth.

"... you need to start by not protesting or questioning everything all the time."

"But Mom says that's a good thing."

Of course, M'lady. How very like her. "Not among Lux Veritatis." The words had the desired effect. Anna finally stopped and listened to him, intrigued. "Among Lux Veritatis discipline is the only way to survive. Control the Gift or it will control you - and you don't want that to happen, much less in public." Dammit, Kurtis sighed internally, I look like my father lecturing about this crap. But his daughter still listened to him, with a fascination he'd never felt. "The fewer people knowing what you are and what you can do, the better. Calling attention will give your enemies power over you – don't give them that advantage."

Enemies. How could a girl of her age have enemies? But she had, and she was going to have more from that moment - just for being the daughter of whom she was. He remembered Hua Bin, and the girls in the photographs. The only thing he regretted was having to kill him so quickly.

"But many of our friends knew what you were." Anna's voice brought him back to reality. "Aunt Selma, Uncle Jean..."

"We can't avoid it in their case, but for the rest of the world, you're like any other girl and you will remain so. Moreover, not only will no one else know it, but you will try to deny it. No entries in your journal like Dear journal, today I blasted my first door off its hinges..."

"I don't have a journal." Anna blushed to her ears, as she always did when lying.

"... so you will take that journal you're not supposed to have and you'll write down how frustrated you are to have been born a girl and not having inherited the Gift."

The girl laughed. "This is gonna be fun!"

Kurtis sighed again and ran his hand over his face. She was still such a child! "It's not funny. It's very serious. No one must know what you are. No one."

"Alright." Anna sighed. "No showing off, then."

"C'mon, you've been here too long." He got up and shook the earth from his pants.

"Not gonna teach me anything now?"

"I already did. Think about it." Then he smiled, but it was a sad smile. "Your grandmother is waiting for you."

Anna frowned, and suddenly the joy faded. "Does she know that I... that she ...?"

"Yes - and yes. She was the wife, the mother, and now the grandmother of a Lux Veritatis." Saying it out loud didn't help too much, dammit. "She's used to this and worse."

After a moment of silent thought, the girl finally nodded. Kurtis made his way back, with her at his side, unusually quiet. After a few steps, he noticed Anna's small hand slid between his. He grabbed it, maybe tighter than he should have.

Don't project your fears on her.

He looked at her out of the corner of his eye. She was calm, relaxed again, although with a spark of sadness, of sudden maturity animating her eyes, otherwise as curious and vital as ever - and even a certain fascination with what had just happened to her, like daydreaming. No trace of the trauma he'd experienced.

He might not be that bad at talking, after all.

"What happened to my granddaughter?" Lady Croft changed the subject.

Marie blew softly on the tea, something perfectly rude in the old lady's eyes. "Ah, that." The Navajo woman commented as if nothing. "Don't worry dear, she'll be fine."

"You see, dear," Lady Angeline finally lost patience, "I hold no high expectations concerning what you might think of me, but for just for your information: I'm no fool. Something strange happened and you and your son, "she struggled to swallow the tinge of contempt raising her throat at the last two words, "reacted as if you knew what was happening. I demand, then, an explanation."

Marie laughed softly, as if amused, and lowered the tea cup to her lap. "Come on, dear," she said in the same tone, "you looked at me in horror a while ago. How did you expect a fourteen-year-old child to react?"

The old lady looked at him, bewildered. No, it had been more than that. Something did not fit.

She opened her mouth to protest, but then the front door opened. Turning sharply toward it, she saw her granddaughter come in. "Anna!" Lady Croft got up, alarmed. "Are you okay?" She didn't approach her, as she would've liked. The girl was holding that man's hand - and if Lady Angeline had made a real effort to kiss and touch Marie, she certainly didn't plan on doing the same with him.

"Sure, Grandma!" Anna smiled and shrugged. "I'm sorry about before. I was... nervous. Didn't know you were sick, Grandma Marie." She said then addressing her American grandmother, letting go of her father's hand.

For a moment, as Marie gently saluted and caressed her granddaughter, Lady Angeline watched, puzzled, as they both acted as if nothing had happened. Neither she nor Marie seemed at all disturbed by the previous events.

They're pretending, she told herself, suddenly alarmed.

Then she looked at the man who was still standing at the doorframe, and a shiver ran down her spine.

He didn't pretend - he was staring at her with those cold blue eyes. Studying her.

He knew it. Whatever that had been, he knew.

"Professor, please..."

Selma rolled her eyes and, clutching the mass of exams in her arms, dodged the anguished student blocking the Archaeology's Department's narrow corridor. "I told you, Fatih..." She growled. "I don't grant second chances. Prove yourself in the extraordinary convocation, as everyone does."

"But...!"

The archaeologist groaned and hurried forward, trying to leave her interlocutor behind. When she reached her office door, she juggled with the papers in her arms and struggled with the doorknob. Jammed, for a change.

Fatih's hand appeared beside her and opened the door for her as he went on protesting. With a sigh of exasperation and wanting to get rid of him, Selma slipped through the doorway and started to close it with her shoulder, but then the pupil leapt forward and stood in the middle of her office.

"Fatih!" The archaeologist shouted. "Enough of thi…!" She stopped when realizing the boy wasn't looking at her, but staring wide-eyed at her huge desk. She followed his gaze... and found Lara sitting, or rather lounging in her chair, her long legs all over the table and her boots resting atop all the books and papers she'd piled on it.

"Really?" Selma muttered, exhausted.

"Holy shit!" Fatih put his hands to his mouth. "Is... is she...?"

"Lara!" The archaeologist yelled. "What are you doing here?"

The aforementioned raised a handful of pages that Selma recognized. "Reading your thesis. That's what you wanted me to do, right?"

Selma let out a sigh and walked over to the table, dropping her exams. Fatih was frozen in his spot, staring at her open-mouthed. Suddenly he spoke: "Can you sign me an autograph, Miss Croft?"

Selma almost expected Lara to kick him out, but then she smiled sweetly. "What's your name?"

"Fatih Özgen!" He exclaimed excitedly, and took a step forward.

Before the archaeologist could stop her, Lara grabbed the pile of exams she'd just left, searched until she found his name, and taking a pen, began to sign with large strokes on the page.

"Hey!" Selma shouted. "I still have not correct...!"

"Here you have." Lara spread the folio forward. Fatih practically snatched it from her hands. "Nice to meet you, Fatih."

Holding tight to the signed exam, the student still dared to mumble: "May I have a kiss from you Miss Cro...?"

"Oh c'mon!" Selma slapped the table, grabbed the frightened student by the arm and led him to the door. "Get the hell outta here!" After throwing him to the corridor, she slammed the door and turned to Lara, who had not moved one inch from her position.

"Sorry about the exam." The British explorer commented, smiling slightly as she made the pen spin between her index finger and her thumb.

"Nevermind." Selma sighed. "He failed anyway. So? What do you think of my thesis?"

Lara smiled slightly and lowered her legs off the table – about freaking time, thought Selma - and, repositioned herself better in the chair, leaving the rest of the pages on the pile of the thesis. "Not bad." She conceded politely.

"Oh, thank you." Selma twisted her mouth. "Coming from you is like getting the Nobel Prize."

"Sarcasm, Selma?" Lara arched an eyebrow. "Leave that to the pro."

"I've had a good teacher all these years." The archaeologist sighed and approached her. "Now seriously. Do you think I can publish it?"

Lara frowned. "You're telling everything, Selma." Then her expression relaxed. "But I have to admit you were clever - you wrap it all up in a halo of myths and legends."

The Turk rolled her eyes. "Of course, Lara. How could I write all those things as if I were serious? It would be the laughingstock of the scientific community. I'm not a geek, I'm a researcher." And then her eyes darkened. "But of course, those who lived that... we know it's real."

"How did you find out... so much about the Lux Veritatis?" Lara looked at her sideways. "Did you talk to Marie? For I don't think he told you much."

Gee, Selma thought. Again she avoided saying his name. That looked bad.

"I talked to Marie, yes." Selma admitted. "She was really helpful - but even she didn't have access to the Order's most hidden secrets. In fact, she was never part of it. She knew many things, of course, as the wife and mother of Lux Veritatis... but she was never really one of them. And of course, Kurtis," She intentionally remarked his name, "wouldn't have told me anything. It's a shame... a great misfortune that we lost Marcus. He could have told me so many things..."

"He was also a Lux Veritatis, Selma."

"But he didn't feel obliged to such secrecy, not like Kurtis. In any case," She smiled suddenly, "instead of Marcus, it was Vlad who gave me the key."

Lara blinked. "Vlad? But..." She lowered her head. "… that murderous demented Giselle burned all his writings." And she didn't mention what else she'd done - to order the death of the Romanian professor, out of simple and gratuitous revenge - because both knew it well.

"Those in Bran, yes." Selma smiled triumphantly. "But not those in Bucharest."

Lara raised her eyebrows.

"Vlad had made copies of everything, Lara!" The Turk's gaze had brightened.

"It's true." The British explorer granted, and took her hand to the temple. "I remember when he showed us the transparencies with Loanna's writings... he told me he'd sent the originals to Bucharest."

"And there they were." Selma clapped, excited. "I've been doing constant trips to Romania, to Bucharest's state archives. Vlad made copies of everything, Lara! Bless him, I hope he rests in peace, wherever he is." She sighed again. "I've had Zip scanning and typing all his texts and files all this time, Lara. The legacy of Vladimir Ivanoff will never be lost! And it's time for it to come out and get the tribute it deserves."

The British explorer smiled again, but it was a sad smile. "Congratulations, you only need to convince both Marie and Kurtis." And she turned her gaze to the window, and her smile turned into a grimace. "Good luck with that."

They arrived in Turkey only two days later. They were a curious threesome, a frail old woman, a tall, well-built man, and a girl who acted like she had ants in her pants, not knowing how to be still. They were to meet in Selma's apartment, where Kurtis and Anna arrived first, on his bike, and just minutes later, Marie by taxi.

Selma was waiting for them at the door, smiling, but her smile faded as she watched Marie walk out of the taxi, helped by Kurtis, who held her firmly. But the Turk had more experience in the suffering and ugliness of the world than Lady Croft, for which she immediately controlled herself, composed another smile and began to embrace and kiss Anna, who'd landed in her lap as usual.

"How you've grown!" The archaeologist exclaimed, stroking her hair and looking quickly over the scar on her forehead. "What's this? Such a mark!"

"I fell from a tree in Sri Lanka, Aunt Selma!" How easy it was to lie, even to loved ones, if it was to protect them. "Where's Uncle Zip?"

"Who called the pro?" A voice came from inside the apartment.

Anna's eyes lit up and she stormed in there, flipping some books down on the way - not that she cared much, either.

Few things in the world managed to take Zip out of his computer seat, namely an angry Selma, his basic bodily needs, and Anna. "Where's the lil' monster?" The hacker appeared in the middle of the mess with open arms. "Heeeeyy come here you freaky spawn!"

Anna threw herself at him and grabbed his torso like a limpet, after which he lifted her up and started spinning around while she laughed and screamed, knocking down several piles of books in the process. "Ugh!" Zip gasped. "You're three times heavier than last time! Has the old witch been stuffing you with tea cookies?"

"Ha! Look who's talking!" Anna protested when he left her on the ground. Before he could stop her, the girl pinched a piece of flesh from his belly and twisted it. "You've gotten fat!"

"Zip." A serious voice sounded then. "What did you call my mother?" Lara had come out of nowhere, silent as a cat, and was leaning against one of the columns of the room, looking inquiringly at the hacker, who shrugged.

"Mom!" Anna approached Lara and hugged her by the waist, more carefully than she had done with Zip and Selma. She knew that she didn't like excessive displays of affection. When she noticed Lara's hand moving up to her nape and stroking her hair, she knew she'd done it well.

"I think I called her old witch." Zip frowned and scratched his chin thoughtfully. "That's what all English ladies end up being sooner or later, right?"

Lara arched an eyebrow.

"C'mon, lil' monster, I crossed the line." Zip muttered between teeth, and Anna followed him, laughing under her breath. "Gonna show ya the latest virus I've designed. Gonna call it Gorgon."

"After the demon Dad saved your ass from?"

"Nope. After the face your mommy just made."

Anna's laughter was lost in the back of the apartment. Then Lara sighed and turned to the door.

She'd fought against her own will to be there. She didn't want to - but it would've been cowardly and pitiful... and in any case, despicable not to be there to at least meet her own daughter.

Selma had been right about one thing. Anna should not pay for that- and she was too old to act like a teen. She would deal with the consequences, as she'd always done.

Marie had taken all that long to climb the steps separating the entrance to the apartment from the street, and she was crossing the last one aided by Kurtis and Selma, holding her each on one side. She looked directly at her and smiled, tired.

"Hello Lara." She looked her up and down. "You look good."

She didn't, she knew it - but the old woman even less. Lara looked at her in shock, forgetting for a second about Kurtis, who was staring at her. "Marie?" She murmured, astonished. She didn't have Selma and Lady Croft's restraints, so she neither contained her horrified expression nor avoided the subject. "What happened to you?"

"Nothing not happening to hundreds of people around the world every day." She said simply, and releasing herself from Selma's arm, she extended a hand to Lara. Instinctively she took a step forward, held her, and both Kurtis and her led her toward the couch.

When noticing the closeness of the man's body, his aroma, his warmth, Lara moved away, as she continued to stare at the fragile Marie. She wouldn't look at him. No, she wouldn't…

Enough of this. What are you, a schoolgirl?

She looked up and there were those impossible blue eyes, unique in that world, nailed to her, bloodshot. She looked back at him, held his glance. What had happened to him? He was damaged. Of course, he must have spent those three months suffering. Like her. No, more than her. No one knew how to suffer in this world like him - he was very good at it. She realized that was not comforting at all. In fact, it drove her even deeper.

And then she realized. Marie. She'd let go of Selma's arm to force her into her place. To be close to him. Well played, Marie, Lara thought. Well played. No one could cheat on that old sly fox. She still had a lot to learn from her.

Slowly, delicately, Marie was helped to sit on the couch, in which she sank as if she had no bones at all.

"Do you want something, Marie?" Selma was visibly struggling to control the anguish of her voice, without much success. "A coffee..."

"No. Not a coffee." Lara cut in sarcastically.

Marie rummaged in her shawl and pulled out a small bag of herbs. "Put this in very hot water and prepare an infusion." Lara made a gesture to take the bag, but then Marie put it out of her reach and said, "Not you. Selma."

As if driven by a spring, the archaeologist took the bag and rushed to the kitchen. Lara didn't miss her subtle smile. What the…

"Let it rest ten minutes!" Marie shouted then. "And don't come back without it!"

"Roger that!" Selma shouted from the kitchen.

Here she goes, Lara thought. She was surrounded by schemers.

First things first. She sat down next to Marie and then noticed her contracted, deformed hands. "What's the matter, Marie?" she insisted.

The Navajo woman sighed and wrapped herself in her shawl. "I guess the sooner we're done with this, the better. I have bone cancer, Lara."

Kurtis had stood by the couch after helping his mother to sit down, watching Lara in silence. To her credit, she seemed genuinely affected to hear it. "So fast?" She murmured, looking at the helpless old woman. When was the last time she'd seen her? Months ago? "You look really bad, Marie."

The old woman laughed softly and stroked Lara's hand slightly. "I've always liked your frankness, Lara. You never pretend, you speak your mind." She laughed again, and wrapped herself in the shawl again. "I know, I'm very bad - but it was expected. Nothing out of the ordinary, then."

"You haven't tried at all..." It was a statement, not a question.

"No," Marie corroborated. "I hate hospitals, doctors, and their horrible treatments."

Lara looked up and her eyes met Kurtis. His ravaged face took on a new meaning. He neither…? "Why did not you say anything, Marie?" Lara protested suddenly. "Are you... dying, and you haven't told anyone?"

"It's my business if I die or not, Lara."

"Not even your son?"

Marie didn't answer.

Then she heard a soft sound. Kurtis had moved, leaning against a pillar. Then he laughed quietly, placing a cigarette between his lips. "Nihil novum sub sole." He muttered, and suddenly stared at Lara. "The women of my life have always enjoyed to surprise me."

Marie stood up on the couch and looked at him out of the corner of her eye. "I don't want any drama about my condition. I'm sick, I'm dying, period." She nodded dryly. "I won't go to any hospital or take any treatment - it's too late anyway. It's my will, and I expect to be respected."

Lara bowed her head, and for a moment her coppery hair covered her face. She was still holding Marie's deformed hands - the hands of a healer.

That woman had saved her life.

That woman had helped her to bring Anna into the world.

"I'm sorry, Marie." She said, and she was honest. She looked up at her. "I'm really sorry."

"Don't." The Navajo woman replied, categorical. "I lived a long life. I've seen almost all my loved ones die, but also those who killed them. Thanks to the both of you." She smiled frankly. "My son's alive, and you have given me a granddaughter - more than I ever expected. I regret nothing and I've never been as happy as these last few years. So don't be sorry, and don't ask again about my condition."

"Alright." Lara smiled. 100% Marie Cornel. The only woman in the world she'd admired without limits.

"Now, if you don't mind..." Marie's expression became harsh. "What if we talk about more serious issues?"

"Anna?" Lara shouted suddenly, raising her voice. The Navajo woman jumped and let her go. "Everything okay up there?"

Zip replied from the attic of the apartment: "Terrific, babe!"

"We're watching hardcore porn!" Anna's little voice screeched.

"Liar!" Zip howled.

Suddenly, Selma appeared in the kitchen doorframe, red as a tomato, carrying a tray and a cup of tea. "It's been ten minutes." She admitted, defeated and guilty. "I'm afraid it gets spoiled."

Lara smiled triumphantly and stood up. "It's time, indeed, to talk about more serious issues. You three have much to talk about." She ignored Selma's indignant glance. "As I am already aware, I will return later." And passing the three mute interlocutors, she left the apartment with a soft slam.

Well, dodging gunfire was her thing - not even Marie could beat her in that.

He stood still for a few seconds. He'd not even lighted his cigarette, so he quickly put it away, stepped away from the pillar, and went to the door. As he stepped out onto the entrance, he watched her ride away on the bike - her own, a Norton, lighter and faster than his Brough Superior. He walked down the steps as he watched the trail of smoke left by her vehicle dissipate.

"Kurtis..."

He turned. Selma was in the doorway, holding a card in her hand, which she quickly handed over. "It's the hotel where she's been all this time. Take it!" She exclaimed, seeing that he hesitated. Kurtis grabbed it. "Now go after her. Go!" Impatient, Selma rested her hands on his chest and pushed him gently. "All this can wait. Go with her! I'll take care of Marie and Anna in the meanwhile." And she slammed the door shut.

Kurtis held the card in his hand and turned it around. Selma had written something behind the hotel card.

Room 202

After parking the bike, she spent twenty long minutes looking towards the Bosphorus, next to the stone parapet. Then, slowly, she went up to her room.

She had run away - like a coward. She couldn't - neither face Kurtis, nor deal with Marie. She was unprepared. And suddenly everything felt absurdly alien to her... nothing mattered anymore.

When she opened her room door, he was there. There he sat in the armchair where she'd sat for three months - looking towards the Bosphorus.

She stood in the doorframe, paralyzed, frozen. It only lasted a few seconds - then she went in and closed the door behind her. "Not gonna ask how you got in here," she murmured. "You're the king of stalkers."

Kurtis showed her the card. "Selma helped a little."

"Of course she did." Lara took off her leather jacket and tossed it over another of the armchairs. Anyway, there was no point in delaying the inevitable. "What do you want, Kurtis?"

Now that she'd taken off her jacket, he looked at her up and down. In Selma's apartment he'd realized she didn't look good – as if she'd not slept in a long time. The condition of the room... well, it also said a lot, especially in someone like her, always so neat and tidy.

But now that he saw her in more detail, he realized she'd lost weight - a lot.

She'd suffered, too - but there she was, standing on the other side of the room, her weight resting on one hip, her arms folded across her chest. Defensive.

It was not going to be easy - but nothing about her had ever been easy. One of the main reasons he'd felt attracted to her.

One of main reasons he had decided not to abandon her.

"What do I want, Lara?" He looked at her intensely. "Seriously?"

Lara's jaw tightened. "You shouldn't be here. Selma's got a surprise ready for you." She shifted. "And knowing you, it won't be a pleasant surprise."

"That can wait." He said. "It's you I want to talk to."

"But I don't want to talk to you." She retorted harshly. "I don't even want to see you. Get outta here." And she yanked the door open.

M'lady never disappoints. He'd not expected less of her.

Kurtis got up and went toward her, to the open door, whose knob Lara still held. Then, gently, he rested his hand on the wooden surface and pushed it until she released the knob, and the door closed softly, with a quiet clack.

"No," he said, looking intensely at her. "I'm not leaving. This is my place, this is where I want to be, and you're not going to kick me out."

"Then I'll go." Lara took a step forward, but he didn't move an inch. "Back off."

"Enough of this, Lara. We're adults. Let's act like adults."

She held his gaze for a moment, defiant. Then she moved away from him and walked to the center of the room. When she collapsed in the same armchair where he'd been sitting minutes ago, she realized her mistake. It was still warm, moulded with the shape of his body - and that didn't help at all.

"Your turn." She instinctively put her hand to her head. It was starting to hurt.

"You don't need to worry about Anna anymore. She knows. I told her."

Lara blinked and looked at him in surprise, after evoking the vision of her daughter in Selma's apartment, barely an hour ago. Joyful, carefree, as if nothing. She was alright.

"So you finally listened to me." Lara arched an eyebrow. "Well, that's a good start. Things will get complicated soon."

Kurtis frowned. "What do you mean?"

"Selma will tell you - and now, if you're done, leave, please." She raised her arm to point at the door. And then he saw it - a slight tremor in her hand, at the tips of her fingers. Her tensed jaw.

He moved toward her. He'd taken three steps when her shrill scream stopped him: "Don't!"

He stood in the middle of the room, staring at her in despair. "M'lad..."

"Don't call me that!" Her eyes glazed. "How dare you call me that after what you did?"

"Lara..."

"Shut up!" She yelled. Her cheeks flushed. "You shoved me against a wall like a trash bag! Don't you dare say you're sor...!"

"I am sorry." He interrupted, looking at her solemnly. "Please, forgive me."

Lara fell silent, sitting there, panting as if she'd just run a long distance. Helpless. Disarmed.

Holy shit. He wanted to go to her. Embrace her, hold her tightly against his chest. Caress her. Comfort her. But when he took a step forward, she stiffened even more.

"Stay away." She mumbled through clenched teeth. "For your own good, don't come closer."

"Lara..."

"Don't Lara me!" Her eyes were reddened, fighting the need to cry out of anger. "A mere apology won't do it, Kurtis."

Of course not, he thought. But he already knew that.

"Then tell me what I have to do." He opened his arms helplessly. "I've been lying in the sun for three months, getting drunk to try to forget what you told me." Lara turn her face away, and the brown locks of hair hid it. "No, look at me now! I did my part. Anna knows... and you were right, she's fine. But she won't always be. She'll be helpless, exposed for years, until she learns to control... that thing. I need you by my side, Lara. She's your daughter too. And we can't fight each other while she's vulnerable. So tell me at once what you want me to do, and leave this torture behind."

She stood for a moment in silence, digesting that speech, unusually long for him as he'd never been a man of many words. Then she spoke tensely and slowly. "I'll be with my daughter, but not by your side." Kurtis dropped his arms at hearing her. "I don't trust you anymore."

That statement seemed to hurt him more than anything else so far. He dropped his head on his chest. "I would never hurt you."

Lara's lips twitched slightly, so she squeezed them tightly. "You already did."

"Lara..."

"And now go, please. I don't want you around."

He took a deep breath. "But I'll be around." He challenged her with his piercing blue eyes. "You can't kick me out, Lara. This is where I belong - with my daughter, with my legacy, and so with you."

"No, not with me." She took a breath again. "I'm sorry about your mother, of course. I'm really sorry."

Kurtis stared at her in silence. Suddenly, his wounded face became totally blank. "That's not what I want you to feel sorry about, Lara. You can't do anything for her - but you can do something for me. For us."

Lara didn't answer. She stared at him in silence - and then she saw him swallow, saliva passing through his throat slowly and painfully. "Is this how it's going to end, Lara?"

Silence.

Kurtis lost his temper. "Lara!" He shouted, opening his arms. "Answer me! Is this how it ends?"

Silence.

"I can't." He gasped, and turning around, went to the door. He had barely pulled it open when Lara's voice stopped him.

"Kurtis..."

He turned around. "What?"

She wasn't looking at him. She'd her eyes turned to the Bosphorus again, her hair concealing her face. "Were you serious?"

He ran his hand over his face, exhausted. "What do you mean?"

"What you asked for." In spite of herself, Lara looked at him again. Her face was devastated. They both looked devastated. "Were you serious when you proposed?"

Kurtis's mouth twisted in a sad, bitter grimace. "Nevermind." He turned around. "I got my answer anyway." And he left, closing the door softly.

"We should work together." She said, and threw the Periapt Shard at him.

Shocked by surprise, with the Chirugai still up, he barely had time to catch the glass dagger, and then looked at her, stunned. Touched. And the warm sensation that gripped his chest at that moment.

"You're trusting me?"

At that moment she'd disarmed him.

And yes, she trusted him - like she'd never trusted anyone before.

Alone in the room, Lara held in a scream.