IN ARCADIA
Prologue
In England
"You know, I think I just might…" Lara's words hang in the smoky air.
The mischievous smile drains from her face as she looks around her in the gathering dawn, the approaching splendor of the sunrise marred by great clouds of billowing grey. "How did we get here?"
A remnant of a smile on his own face, Kurtis runs his hand wearily through his hair and shrugs.
In truth, it had seemed only a short step from Egypt's timeless, arid sands to the unforgiving back streets of Europe, and then from there to here. Here being Croft Manor, or rather the grounds in which it once stood.
The first rays of sunlight reveal the extent of the destruction. Lara leans heavily against the tall iron gates which alone are standing upright- bracketed by a few remaining metres of wall on either side, whereas every other brick in the place is smashed and fallen.
She turns to glance back through the bars, thinking sadly of the irreplaceable treasures that lie lost beneath the rubble. But perhaps some of them can be salvaged; the Infada Stone and its surviving companions at least, hewn from rock that fell blazing out of a primeval sky, have been through worse.
And in any case, a greater loss weighs on her mind.
Kurtis snugs his one intact arm around her waist and draws her away from the smouldering ruins as Father Bram Patrick Dunstan comes up alongside them, white hair badger-striped with soot. He looks warmly down into the face of the woman he baptized as a tiny infant.
"Your father will be here to collect you soon, Lara." He turns to Kurtis. "I imagine he's looking forward to meeting you, young man."
Kurtis looks vaguely terrified, and the priest can't suppress a smile. It fades, though, as he says to Lara: "I'll be in contact. We'll need to discuss arrangements for the funeral."
"Winston," she says sorrowfully.
"Take heart, Lara. We'll meet him again, in a better place."
Kurtis smiles down at her. Lara embraces Father Dunstan gingerly, careful of both their bruises, and he steps away giving the two youngsters a moment of privacy.
Kurtis wipes a smear of dirt from Lara's face with his thumb, and she does the same for him. Briefly, they lean against one another, eyes half-closed.
"So, who do you think was worse, Karel or Semira?" asks Lara.
He groans. "Not much to choose between them, I'd say," he replies.
Something lying on the blackened ground, brighter, catches Kurtis' eye. He bends down and lifts the bronze rectangle awkwardly, one-handed from the charred rubble, blowing on it to remove ashes and brickdust.
"'Once and future adventurer,'" he reads aloud. "Here. You should keep this. Kinda appropriate."
She takes it from him, smiling a little as she tucks it under one arm.
A low purring sound announces the arrival of a dark blue Bentley, which swings onto the drive with a crunch of gravel. A uniformed chauffeur gets out first, followed by a tall, elegant man with a clipped moustache and graying hair, but with expressive brown eyes, just like his daughter's.
"Good God," he says softly when he sees the devastation. "Deborah would have had a fit." He means his late aunt, the only one who refused to abide by the family's disownment and bequeathed her home to Lara.
They don't hug. It's been too long, and there are too many things to be said first. They settle instead for a clasping of hands, before Lord Croft turns to Kurtis and shakes his hand, amiably if formally. Inevitably, his eyes go to the other arm, the one that has no hand because it ends at the elbow, the stump clumsily swathed in bloodied bandages.
"What the devil…?"
"Long story, sir," says Kurtis wearily. "The doctors say they'll be able to fix me up with a pretty good prosthetic, though."
They all pile into the car and Lord Croft raps smartly on the dashboard. "Let's be off," he orders, and the Bentley pulls smoothly away.
"Your mother's eager to see you," he tells Lara. "She's spent the morning preparing your old bedroom. And the grand guest room," he adds to Kurtis.
"Aww, no funny business?" murmurs Kurtis, so only Lara can hear. She elbows him lightly in the ribs, and he winces.
The car turns out onto the main road, heading for Wimbledon. Kurtis leans back against the padded leather and shakes his head in semi-bewilderment.
"How did we get here, Lara?"
She closes her eyes and tries to remember.
Disclaimer: I don't own Lara Croft, Tomb Raider, or any of the characters therein, nor am I making any money from this fic. Eidos Interactive are the only ones who get to abuse those privileges.
As I started writing this about two years ago, I thought it was about time I posted it. It's sort of a counterpart to my other AoD continuation fic Reborn in Shadow-which I have NOT given up on-it's just giving me a hard time at the moment.
I have to thank 'Akkon' for opening my eyes to the possibilities of writing in the present tense, which I don't think I'd have dared to do unless I'd read her excellent "Folly".
Since Legend has now been released, with its horribly tampered-with backstory for Lara, I'd better make it clear that as an old school Tomb Raider fan, I'm sticking strictly to the original bio (the one where she survives the plane crash at age 21 and is subsequently disowned by her parents, who are still very much alive.)
As always, I'll be very grateful for feedback. Review, you know you want to...
Jordy xx