A/N: Thank you again to fanfic. addicted01 (yes site, still all together) for beta-reading on ideas and story-telling!

Guest: Thank you!^^


Lara

The name has been on her wrist since birth. She is part of the selected group to have a soulmate.

Everyone in the world knows that soulmates are something special. Of course, many people don't care about the prospect, more disappointed and therefore passive-aggressive to the phenomenon than anything if they haven't been blessed with the luck. However, her fate is not that surprising considering that her parents have each other's names on their wrists as well. Still, while not peculiar in itself, having a soulmate for life is a big deal.

There is a whole industry for people to find their soulmates. Before, people had had to find their soulmate through magazine ads and membership clubs, but, the Internet makes the old ways obsolete in her childhood. As a result, most people find their soulmate under the age of five when their parents enter their names onto the global arena. Sometimes, it may take a few years more if the age-difference is bigger. Plus, some parents want their child to be able to make the decision themselves when they are older - especially if the parents have no experience in having a soulmate themselves.

Lara's parents originally wanted to wait until she was seven, old enough to comprehend the concept better, but then Amelia died. Richard's grief is a true manifestation to Lara of what it actually means to be partnered in life. She is too young to fully understand it, but the memories and her father's pain stay with her.

Somewhere amidst all the darkness that has descended upon the Manor, Lara starts to cover Jacob's name on her wrist. She tells herself that she is doing it out of sympathy for her father, however, she doesn't want to think about the anxiety-inducing subject either. Winston looks at her with sad eyes but doesn't object to the choice. Furthermore, her father never comments on the habit – and she suspects that he has pushed the idea of soulmates as far from his heart as he can reach just to be able to continue with his life.

However, four years later it appears that her father hadn't been able to survive losing Amelia. She feels horrible for being difficult and not supporting her father's ideas, and under that desperate anger and loss of meaning, her father's suicide makes her fear the idea of a soulmate. Will she die, too, if Jacob is taken from her? Can she protect herself if she stays away from him? Or will she wither away if she doesn't have him in her life? Plus, Jacob is an ominous name in itself. So, a couple of months after her father's death, she tries to use an eraser on the top corner of the 'b' when doing her homework, scrubbing her skin furiously, and she isn't sure if she is relieved or horrified that it doesn't work: Jacob's name stays on. She does think of more permanent ways to remove the mark from her skin, but she always chickens out in the end.

Roth is amazing and never raises the topic. Yet, the man is ready to discuss it, share his views, and not to mention, offer support when she brings the soulmates up after a particularly bad day returning from the boarding school when she is thirteen. The kids know now; she had been a fool enough to tell one of the girls, and soon, everyone in the whole school had heard the story. "Jealous", the classroom teacher had said when supervising her detention after she had punched one girl for pestering how her soulmate must have run away at the first sight of her.

The words didn't comfort her the slightest. She was already too different, too tomboyish, too rich, too smart, and a year younger than the rest. The last thing that she needed was to be picked on for having a non-existent soulmate.

She isn't always indifferent to it though, and after one tedious day when she is fifteen and alone in the house with Roth on an expedition, she logs onto the Internet. Her fingers hover over the mouse for five minutes before she sucks it up and clicks the sign-up. She misses the dinner that's waiting for her in the fridge when she browses the search and receives zero results which leads her to go through eighty pages of free-versed announcements one by one. But there is no one named Jacob searching for Lara. If she changed her name to Kate or Scarlett, then she would have two and one matches respectively, but she is not.

Technically, she is still underage, and if her soulmate is younger than her, then maybe he is not on the site yet, she keeps telling herself, her hands sweaty and an unwanted tiny lump in her throat.

And it's not like she is sure that she wants a soulmate anyway, she thinks while logging out of the site.

Maybe her soulmate is one of those who choose to stay out of the pre-destined path – she has read of those – and never want to contact their other half. She'd understand, she tells herself – but it would still be nicer to have that outlook together...

After the disappointment, it doesn't take a month before she posts her own announcement on the site. And when she opens her laptop coming home from school, she has a giddying number of notifications. But Roth is forever wiser than her, an old fox who knows the tricks and the people who use them. And he warns her with heavy looks that the five people who have contacted her cannot all be right.

And they are not. She has to leave the meetings with a clenched jaw and hard eyes that make way to tears when she has locked herself into her room the following night. The only luck is that Roth had insisted on accompanying her to meet each man. And she learns that not all people consider the idea of soulmates as sacred, or how they are willing to pass on the bitterness when they haven't found their match. After the meetings, she is done with the concept and decides one afternoon that the Jaffa cakes in her hand are a much more reliable source of happiness.

University is wonderful because 1. she can focus on history, 2. she makes friends. Sam is slowly bringing her out of her shell and is wonderful with the idea of soulmates, not putting too much stress on the concept.

And all is well – mostly anyway – as she gets closer to graduation. She still checks the site frequently, but still, no one is looking for her. It makes her feel a little ...rejected. The fabled person who should understand her doesn't even want to look for her. She has learned very well that she is not everyone's cup of tea, but it still hurts.

Yamatai is a hell that she never saw coming. She is no stranger to people being evil, but the scale of the darkness is overwhelming. Moreover, she becomes one of them: a killer, ruthless, traumatized. But the biggest blow is that Roth dies. The man who had always had time for her and helped her keep her chin up and eyes dry, is gone. She doesn't have anyone to lean onto anymore. And when she is trying to sleep in the cabin of the rescue ship with Sam similarly not sleeping but too emotionally drained to say anything on the lower-bunk, Lara's eyes spot the name on her wrist again. The wristwatch that she has used to cover it with its wide leather band is beyond repair with all the blood, water, and hits that it had taken.

She lets out a silent unamused snort. How on earth could she explain this experience to anyone? How could anyone understand it? And where is that bastard who is not in her life supporting her after one of the worst experiences anyone could go through? And even if she would meet him – then what? Roth will never get to meet the guy anyway. She may not be religious, but she feels like the true Jacob in all of this; and she lets a few rogue tears escape her eyes without reaction.


The people around her are getting fewer in numbers. And the next few years after Yamatai are no easier but at least she has a purpose. There's more danger, more kills and violence, and altogether substantially fewer feelings.

It's only in Syria that she finally feels that she is on the right track, following the footsteps that she is meant to chase. Her father's research has led her here, and she cannot wait to finish his life's work. However, the Prophet's tomb is empty much to her and Konstantin's shock, yet she cannot shake or comprehend the deep-felt relief that leaving the place empty-handed generates in her.

Siberia is the same, familiar in its unfamiliarity, crisp air that fills her with determination. However, before long, she finds herself arguing with Konstantin and Ana, her hands tied and her mind more feral than it has been since killing Mathias.

Konstantin walks her to the Gulag's cellblock while her mind is already formulating a plan to escape. She prefers the solitude and the safety it usually provides anyway.

Now, all she needs is to figure out how to put her idea into practice.

However, a voice from the cell next to hers startles her from her thoughts on how to stop these people, "Maybe that's all he knows how to be."

There is a brief tinge in her mind that she shouldn't be against the native, and moreover, she was supposed to find a way to the Divine Source, but it feels less relevant right now. She needs a way out, not people to add their own mess into this and make her life harder like they always do. Getting her hands free calms her mind a little, but her fury lights up again when the man has the nerve to question her skills.

He has no idea what she is capable of.

And yet, this is not who she is, attacking against people who have been imprisoned and tortured by Trinity, so, with a troubled moment of sympathy, she apologizes curtly.

The man tries to maintain a conversation, but she gives him very little thought in her quest to find her way out of this place – until he throws out the name that is hidden under her new watch's wide wristband.

He cannot know. Ana knows, but the chances that the fact would have been revealed to the prisoner are slim. Furthermore, he continues unfazed by the silence, guessing her name correctly.

Her mind works overtime, forgetting momentarily about screwing the silencer on the pistol that she had found on the locker. Of all the odds for Jacob to be here – but then again, her mind tries to reason, a native living in isolation in the middle of nowhere, definitely with no broadband Internet.

Could it be?

Her heart and instincts are far from silent when she finally turns to look at the native but she forces them to quiet. The man is tall, with dark hair and a beard, accompanied with notably pale eyes that rival ancient artifacts in their rarity. However, what strikes her the most is how calm he appears. Despite that he is trying to get her to free him - not to mention her unfriendly manners - he doesn't seem desperate or commanding per se. He is affected, yes, but he lets her have the power without objections. And that is a terribly dangerous character. Because she had learned to deal with those who try to make her act in their favor by threatening her life and attacking full-on, but this kind of approach is much more subtle, smarter - more benevolent if sincere, but she doesn't let herself think that far yet. She is a researcher, she deals with facts and truths, not people trying to shake her emotions. Moreover, she has learned her lesson far too well, so, she tests suspiciously, "Can I see it?" Yet, unlike the times when Roth had nearly punched more than one man with a black eye, the native readily unveils the name that looks like it came from her pen.

She huffs air out of her nose in a feat of incredulity, or annoyance, or relief, and frees him; it's all a vibrant mess of feelings that she will need a long time to dissect. But the time for the analysis is not now because they are in the middle of an enemy compound and the man's cheek looks like it has barely stopped bleeding. And there is something much more powerful than simple, everyday feelings brewing inside her. And in a blink of an eye, her warped mind is bringing forth a flashback of the other native shot in the stomach and giving his last words to her.

How easily that could have been Jacob, leaving them to find each other minutes before his death? Her stomach drops dangerously low, making her sick, but she pushes forward in the need to bring them both to safety. She needs answers, the truth, and she cannot lose all of that now, forever. And it seems that her childhood fears have all come true, the monsters that lurk under the beds, and the soulmate whose mere existence will decide her fate for her.

Jacob, on the other hand, seems much more accepting towards the sudden change in his life, walking easily next to her and making her feel simultaneously irritated and abashed. In fact, anxiety doesn't seem to belong in his dictionary, and she has to stress for him to stay back while she'll clear the courtyard of Trinity.

However, when she has done the unavoidable, Jacob is not where she left him, causing her heart to sink and cold-sweat trickle down her back. With a steady line of silent curses, she finds him in one of the buildings ready to attack Konstantin and Ana even at the cost of his life. She is a risk-taker herself and has heard enough of that from Jonah. And maybe it makes sense that Jacob would be the same, but, at the moment, she is mostly wanting to question what the hell he thinks that he's doing, endangering himself against armed corps.

Worse, it doesn't take long before they get separated again. However, this time it's him saving her amidst the onslaught. And before she has the time to analyze his unwillingness to leave her behind, they are both at Trinity's gunpoint with no other option but to jump into the river.


It feels like dying when the freezing water hits her skin. She loses her sense of direction in the darkness for a second, but Jacob is much quicker to recover and moves to pull her in the right direction.

The air itself is heavenly with the cold constricting her lungs, but the temperature and the wind are biting. They both keep their eyes on the helicopter's searchlight and stay out of sight behind a few larger boulders. She knows that they have less than 15 minutes to stay conscious and she is desperate to find a way to save them. Jacob, on the other hand, approaches things with less panic and wraps his arms around her ribcage under her breasts and neck, most likely intent to save as much warmth to vital organs as possible. She doesn't know when was the last time - if ever - that anyone has held her like this, so restrictively without feeling like a threat. Moreover, Jacob's arms and upper body feel abnormally warm against her, especially in their soaked clothes. But maybe it's the water being beyond freezing that even a dangerously low body temperature feels like a heater against her distressed nerve-endings.

There is the briefest of thoughts that she could stay in his arms for the rest of her life, but she pushes it quickly down in distress because any thought of comfort will make that life a lot shorter.

It feels like forever before Trinity's helicopter leaves the area and lets them pull themselves up from the water. Her fingers are numb, her toes beyond feeling, and her upper body constricts when the wind makes the cold even more excruciating.

They need to make it.

However, her mind is slowing down in the cold, and before the determination manages to overpower her dread about how of little help she is in here, Jacob is pulling her forward. He seems to be a fighter like her, knowing the path and getting them both by a burning fire. Moreover, he is bigger than her, more adept to push onwards in the snow, and she seeks refuge in his certainty. But they have already been in the cold for far too long and she cannot let them die. "How far?" she forces from her aching throat.

"Not far, there's a cliff ahead of us. But we need to climb from the side."

He is clearly weighing her health, but the goal is the only thing on her mind – safety.

"Can you run?" she asks him and is already drawing on her adrenaline to push forward. To her relief, he can follow her in the snow and up the cliff. For a moment the panic of nearing death almost takes her again when she doesn't see anything of use, but Jacob swiftly pulls her through the small opening to a hidden cave.

And to her shock, there is a fire waiting for them in an actual working stove. The place looks otherwise mostly abandoned but that's the only notion that she makes before jogging to the fire and starting to pull her stiff, ice-ferned clothes off with very little shame to increase the chances of survival. From the corner of her eye, she can see Jacob do the same in a respectable distance away, leaving her to have the fire. But then he stops with his undergarments still on.

'Idiot' is the most refined curse she can think of with her lagging brain because they are both nearly hypothermic and at dire risk to lose their limbs and he is worried for her privacy, not even glancing in her direction. "Do you wish to die?" she snaps at him while pulling off her bra. Her tone is enough to make him look at her, but it doesn't achieve the intended undressing, instead, his eyes lock somewhere onto her midriff. She turns to look at what he is staring at and notices the long, jagged scar from Yamatai. The souvenir glares angrily against the otherwise sickly pale skin, competing with the myriad collection of other older scars and new bruises from the avalanche and Syria.

It's the worst possible moment for her classmates' old comments to re-bounce to the forefront of her mind but they raise her defenses for battle. So, she doesn't have picture-perfect skin, she is scarred, but he can go to hell if it bothers him. She doesn't want to feel the rejection again, she has had enough of it years ago.

However, the shock of the returning trauma is enough to keep her from lashing out at Jacob, and before she manages to even notice that he has moved, he is wrapping a wide bear pelt on her bare shoulders with an apologetic sympathy on his face.

And before she has the chance to process his action, he removes his own shirt and she is met with a sight that she was not expecting - because he is scarred, much more so than her. The marks are not just from Trinity's actions but older, much older, most of the scars visible only due to the lower body temperature. Jacob's lips curl wryly at her reaction before he glances at her again as if to ask if it's okay for him to fully undress.

She nods numbly but forces herself into action, to reciprocate his care for her and pick up another pelt to wrap around him. There is something so unbelievable in the whole situation - in him – so that she cannot even properly argue against him giving her most of the pelts. And it only gets more like an unconsciousness-induced, hazy dream when two men enter the cave, visibly relieved to see Jacob. Her wet eyelashes hit her numb cheeks repeatedly as she watches Jacob give orders and check information like raised by battle. Her mind goes back to her original mission, finding the imprisoned native leader. He had seemed nothing like a leader in the cell block but his actions after that… she wouldn't mind having him on the same side in battle, that much she knows.

For the first time in a couple of days, she feels safe at how Jacob has control of the situation. Maybe it's the first speck of safety ever since Roth's death, to have someone she can let be in charge for a while without carrying everything on her shoulders. After Yamatai, in the little thought that she had given to soulmates, she had never considered that she could have an equal relationship anymore, find a person who can take care of themselves without her constantly fretting over them.

And she can see it, sense it with her instincts, that despite their state of undress and the certainty with which he gives orders to his men, he is not here to take advantage of her, that he is simply doing all he can to look after her. Even now, he notes how she is trying to curl better in on herself to save her toes and fingers because the danger is far from over and she doesn't want to try how it would be to operate a climbing ax with three fingers instead of five.

He comes to kneel next to her, prodding her to show him her hands. This is barely the time for holding hands at the happiness of finally meeting each other. But he seems so certain, pale blue eyes twinkling sadly at her, so she gives in and places her hands on his much warmer hands - impossibly warm hands. Some people have good metabolism but he has not had the time to defrost his fingers by the fire while being constantly in action. And more than that, she can feel the pain lessen in her fingers and warmth taking its place before Jacob moves to massage the back of her hands and wrists.

He is healing her, a miracle with no visible source, like the Prophet. And she can only stare in silence when he moves to save her toes and ankles, bringing warmth wherever he gently touches. She wants to laugh incredulously at the revelation but the reaction never escapes her throat because of the cold and the shock. And another thought follows, because surely, she cannot be his soulmate for life. Her - a soulmate to an immortal Prophet. The scars on his body start to make a lot more sense, she realizes fleetingly. No, it must be just for this life. Maybe that was why he was so determined to get himself killed at the Gulag.

Yet, he denies her assumption, promising with sincere softness that it has been only her throughout his existence. The information that he has had relationships and a child never really catches her mind as something relevant in the current situation. More than that, it rather helps to lessen her shock at least for a tiny amount. Because surely he cannot mean that he has been waiting for her for over a millennium. No way.

She closes her eyes in embarrassment, at the stupidity that she manages to manifest time and time again. Over the years, she had gradually begun to think less and less of her soulmate's hardships, only seeing her own and the flaws that they had left in her. She has cursed him, cried at the thought of him, always seeing herself as the abandoned, walls built high. But instead, he is offering her all the comfort and protection that he can give, wording his solace like he, too, would have wallowed in the same fear of being unwanted. She doesn't want to tear up and start crying so she laughs and smiles to push past the unimaginable outcome.

She has a million questions, but at this moment, the simple feeling of having him here is more important than her need for answers.

They stay very close, constantly taking glances at each other when they wait for his men to return, and she doesn't bother counting how many silly, shy smiles they share in the meantime. And when the coast is clear and they have food in their bellies, he pulls her easily to sit on his lap to share warmth under the hides.

It's extremely weird to be cared for like that. It does feel nice – wonderful even – when she will have the better chance to analyze the unaccustomed emotion. Thus, against all odds, she doesn't even hesitate to nuzzle closer, feel more of his skin and the comfort his larger frame provides, and prod him to wrap his arms more snuggly around her.

And for the first time ever, she can take some happiness from the idea of having a soulmate.


A/N: Realized Lara's pun on Jacob's deathwish only when proof-reading, and of course Jacob didn't catch that on his piece. Damn him for being too pre-occupied by Lara's undressing and his own issues. :P