A NUMBER'S GAME, Chapter 7

All told, it had been a day worthy of postcards.

The rains of the day before had been replaced by unblemished azure skies overlooking pleasantly warm air and dry ground. The incessant splatter of raindrops against mud had given way to the chirping of birds.

But of even more import - to Lara, at least - there'd been no hint of odd events since they'd left the B&B that morning. The brunette allowed herself a flitter of optimism: maybe, just maybe, nothing would come of them.

They'd inaugurated the excursion with a random exploration of the countryside, Elsie's wanderlust leading them through meadows, pastureland and prickly hedgerows, across myriad dry stone walls and glittering streams until they finally came upon a village in the full throws of a harvest festival.

Lara didn't think she'd ever seen Elsie so excited: the blonde had thrown herself headlong into the festivities, enthusiastically running between the myriad performers, kiosks and exhibitions with such verve that Lara finally gave up trying to keep pace, opting to observe a comparatively serene demonstration on basket weaving while her friend tired herself out.

"I'm curious, how long does the fair run for?" asked Lara of the middle-aged woman weaving willow branches into a circular lattice.

"Two days," replied the woman as she deftly twisted the flexible stems with well-practiced movements. "You would've seen more yesterday, it being Lammas and all."

Lara's pulled her gaze away from the embryonic basket and looked at the woman. "But...today is Lammas."

The woman shook her head. "Lammas is observed on the first of August."

"Precisely, yes."

The basket weaver smiled. "Today's the second, dear."

"But...hang on, that can't be right..."

Lara fished her phone from her pocket.

She thumbed the display and frowned.

August 2...what?

She knew it was the first of August...or at least, she thought she knew.

When the blonde finally rejoined her a large picnic basket swung from her elbow - though the Englishwoman barely noticed.

"Elsie, what day is this?"

The American tipped her head quizzically. "Tuesday, why?"

"No, I mean the date."

"August second...why, did you forget something?"

Lara shook her head at the blonde's confirmation. Could she have lost track of time to such an extent?

"This makes no sense," continued the Englishwoman. "We landed at Heathrow on the twenty-ninth -"

"Thirtieth," interjected the blonde.

"Twenty-ninth," insisted the Englishwoman. "Elsie, I was right there when you booked our flight, I know!"

The American reached into her back pocket.

"No, don't look at -"

Elsie thrust her phone out, the display facing the brunette.

Lara huffed. "Look, I know that's what our phones say -"

The blonde tugged on a passerby, a lanky redhead carrying a large chicken against his chest - Lara noticed the bird seemed to be ogling her with trepidation.

You toss a few chickens and you're labelled for life...

"Excuse me, what day is this?" asked Elsie.

The man paused in bemusement.

"Tues-"

"No, the date."

"Och, the second," said the man.

"So yesterday was the first. Lammas, right?"

"Aye. Or Lunasadgh as some folk call it."

"Thank you," said the blonde, throwing a look of triumph to her companion as man and chicken moved off. "Satisfied?"

"But...but..."

Elsie edged up to the flustered brunette.

"Look, it's no big deal," said the blonde as she brushed chestnut locks from her friend's eyes. "If it's any consolation, I kinda wish you were right...that way we'd have an extra day together."

Lara grumbled, her date quandary proving stubbornly resistant to a satisfying resolution. But at the moment her frustration was being dulled by the lovely grey eyes hovering only inches from hers.

She sighed.

"Oh...fine, then..."

"Come on," said the blonde encouragingly as she snaked her free arm around the Englishwoman's. "I picked us up a few things."

Lara glanced at the basket. "Oh? Such as?"

"You'll see," replied Elsie as she slowly led Lara away from the festival. "I couldn't find wine, mind you, but I did manage to get some mead..."

The brunette smiled. "Am I to take it we're going on picnic?"

"That's right," breathed the blonde as they headed off for a distant hillock. "I think we've earned one, don't you?"

~ oOo ~

Elsie had chosen an idyllic spot: an isolated hillock untouched by browsing sheep, overgrown with wildflowers with a central gnarled oak providing a measure of shade - not that it was desperately needed, what with the sun slowly inching down towards the distant hills, but the overhanging branches and leafy canopy did lend a comforting intimacy to the setting.

The blonde had seen to everything, spreading out a large tartan blanket before setting out a veritable trove of foodstuffs she'd collected in the village: pickle onions, scotch eggs, shortbread, potato salad, croquettes, buttered scones, croustades, jam, oatcakes, fudge, several varieties of local cheeses and of course the aforementioned mead complete with hand crafted wooden goblets. To Lara it seemed they had enough to withstand a siege.

"I don't understand how you can be so dead set against your own cryptid," voiced the blonde. "Where's your national pride?"

"For one, I'm English, not Scottish," countered Lara as she sliced a wedge of Dunlop cheese. "It's why we field separate football teams in the World Cup."

"Foot - oh, you mean soccer."

The brunette rolled her eyes. "'Soccer', yes, of course. My mistake."

Elsie grinned as she took a healthy bite of freshly-baked shortbread.

The archaeologist continued. "Anyway...being English, I've no predisposed loyalty to Nessie, if that's your thinking."

Elsie shook her head at her companion in mock disappointment. "I would've thought you of all people would have an open mind about stuff like that, what with Sun Queens, self-propelled boulders and undead, and God knows what else you've seen."

"I just think the notion of some prehistoric beast lurking under our collective noses all these years is rubbish," explained the Englishwoman. "In case you haven't noticed, this isn't exactly a remote corner of Patagonia. Having an open mind doesn't invalidate a healthy skepticism."

"And yet you believe in Sasquatch," retorted the American in between mouthfuls. "Explain that."

Lara frowned.

"That's not what I said."

"You said -"

"I said the evidence is compelling," stated the archaeologist, leaning forward to stuff a slice of Dunlop into her companion's mouth. "Which is entirely different from stating one's unequivocal belief. You're misquoting me terribly, Miss Trainor."

The blonde chewed the soft cheese before muffling out a response with a dismissive wave.

"Semantics."

Lara huffed.

"Explain to me again why I like you?"

Elsie flashed a grin.

"Must be the pancakes."

"It has to be that," agreed the brunette.

Lara sighed, her shoulder blades resting lightly against the oaken trunk as Elsie proceeded to refill the goblets.

The Englishwoman's thoughts drifted back to the memories she'd inexplicably witnessed the previous night. She'd been sorely tempted to divulge all to her companion; as outlandish as it seemed, there'd be no question of Elsie disbelieving her. Indeed, the blonde might well provide a sounding board from which the archaeologist might make some sense of what happened.

But it would also mean re-opening her friend's old wounds. Wounds Lara knew had to this day never fully healed.

She shuddered at the lingering memories.

She would have to tread carefully.

She carefully plucked a large yellow and violet wildflower from the tall grass next to her hip.

"What's this called?"

"A flower," replied Elsie before sipping some mead.

"You imp," smirked the Englishwoman. "I meant the species. You're the green thumb."

"Yeah, well, it's more of a hobby than an obsession. I can't be expected to know everything!"

As the blonde set her goblet down and grabbed a scone, Lara dipped a toe into the murky waters.

"Elsie," began the archaeologist tentatively, "Did you...sleep well last night?"

The blonde heaped a spoonful of jam atop her pastry. "Like a baby, actually...why, was I kicking?"

"No, that's not what...no."

The blonde eyed the Englishwoman curiously as she dropped the spoon into the jar with a clank.

"Why are you asking?"

Shit...I shouldn't be opening this door...back out, Lara...

The brunette quickly re-directed the conversation.

"I just couldn't help but notice...you didn't bring your nightlight with you."

Elsie smiled sheepishly. "Oh, yeah...I've been trying to wean myself off it."

Lara cocked her head. "You seem to be managing it well enough."

"It's still a work in progress, believe me," clarified the American as her outstretched foot began rocking back and forth. "But having Doppie around helps."

The Englishwoman set out a snare. "Yes, I imagine her sleeping overhead would provide a measure of reassurance."

"Well, she's not exactly...um..."

The blonde's shoulders sagged slightly. To Lara it seemed as though her friend's pale cheeks were flushing.

"Elsie?"

The blonde chewed her lip as her eyes locked onto the tartan blanket.

"I, uh...we've been...sleeping in the same bed. For a while now."

"Yes, I gathered. I saw it at your flat."

"No, I mean...in the same bunk..."

The brunette took care to maintain a neutral tone. "I see."

Elsie's head popped up, grey eyes wide.

"But it's not like we're sleeping together," added the blonde hastily. "I mean...not that way."

Lara held a palm outward.

"I never said it was."

"But you're thinking it!"

The brunette was finding it difficult to stifle a smile.

"I'm doing no such thing," countered the archaeologist. "Bugger, but you're tense!"

Elsie's foot accelerated its nervous rocking. "Okay, for the record, she grabbed me! Oh, shit...I mean -"

"Elsie, I know."

The blonde frowned. "You know...what?"

"I know all about your sleeping arrangements," explained the Englishwoman. "Doppie told me. It started from a power cut."

"She...she did?"

Lara nodded. "You needed comforting. She understood."

"Yes!" exclaimed Elsie, visibly relieved. "That's it exactly!"

The brunette smiled. "She knows what I know, remember."

The blonde nodded knowingly. "I, ah, noticed."

Lara sampled the mead, the sweet nectar sliding pleasantly down her throat.

"I've been meaning to ask...how's life been with her so far? It's been what, nine months now?"

Elsie's gaze dropped to her scone as she seemed to struggle with the question.

"Honestly, it's been...up and down," admitted the blonde softly. "I mean, I have to do a lot of damage control, but..."

Lara arched an eyebrow. "Damage control?"

The American shook her head. "It's nothing I can't handle. And she is getting better at controlling herself as time goes on. She hasn't throttled anyone in almost a month."

"Well that's...good."

The blonde's foot stopped its rocking. "It's strange, you know...when I left Oregon, I knew I would live on my own. I like the independence."

"I've gathered," remarked the archaeologist.

Elsie sighed as her gaze turned to a distant flock of rooks crossing over the distant hills.

"And yet...now I can't imagine my life without her. Yeah, she can be a handful, but there are times when she can be so freaking sweet, Lara, loath as she is to express it. I'd miss her so much if she left..."

The brunette idly twirled the flower between thumb and forefinger.

"Well, for what it's worth, I don't think she plans on leaving...at least not anytime soon."

"I know, but -"

The blonde's voice cut off. She glanced at her companion.

"Hang on...when did you guys have this conversation, anyway?"

Lara shifted slightly. "Right after...you know..."

The blonde's grey eyes popped. "Aha! Now we're getting somewhere!"

"No, you're not," parried the brunette. "It's just that after our...activities...there followed a rather awkward silence. And so, we got to talking. It was our first proper conversation, actually."

Elsie slowly shook her head. "Worst. Censor. Ever. 'Activities'? Really?"

Lara let out a sharp breath. "Well, what would you rather I call it?!"

"Oh I dunno, how about something a little more descriptive?" replied the blonde. "Like mattress dancing, or slappin' bellies, or the ol' bump 'n grind, or - "

"Okay, you've made your point," winced the brunette.

" - stuffing the turkey, or -"

"Oh, God..."

" - kicking the can - "

"All right!"

Lara could feel the deep pink seeping into her cheeks.

Elsie shifted onto her knees and shuffled over to the brunette.

"Awww, don't be embarrassed..."

"You'll never let me live that down, will you?" rasped the archaeologist.

"It's all in fun," cooed the blonde affectionately. "You know that."

"Oh, is that what it is..."

Elsie nuzzled her companion's cheek.

"You know, I absolutely love how the indomitable Lara Croft can crawl through corpse-infested tombs without batting an eye and yet gets hopelessly flummoxed by a few colourful metaphors."

"I'd rank them as slightly more than 'colourful'," returned the Englishwoman hoarsely. "Can you at least drop the 'can' references? Please?"

Elsie smiled. "Done."

"Thank you."

Taking in a brief whiff of the flower in her hand, Lara reached out and gently tucked the stem behind the blonde's ear.

Her mouth opened slightly.

Bugger, but you're lovely...

The blonde arched an eyebrow.

"Is that how one proposes in Scotland?"

Lara jerked her hand back and sputtered: "What? No! I mean - I didn't -"

Elsie laughed. "Lara, relax. I'm not the marrying type."

The Englishwoman let out a breath of relief. "Neither am I."

Elsie blinked. "What, not even Sam?"

Lara's stomach churned slightly. "Uh...we've never really discussed it. But then our lives have been rather complicated these last few years."

"Hm. Speaking about discussions," said the blonde as she considered the brunette, "what did you talk about that night? You and Doppie, I mean."

Lara shifted slightly, her back pressing snugly against the oaken trunk.

"Just...things," replied the archaeologist, her memories of that unusual night forever seared into her brain. "We'd never really conversed, at least not to any significant degree. But that night she was...different."

Elsie pressed her hips to her companion's. "In a good way, I hope?"

"Yes," smiled Lara. "That night she almost seemed...human."

The blonde chuckled.

"Almost?"

Lara's stomach knotted. The doppelgänger had changed, there was no denying it.

She'd freed the creature from mindless obeisance, yes - but hadn't she used the redhead for her own purposes? What choice had she really given her, after all?

She was no longer a tool. Hers or anyone else's.

"Elsie...I have a confession to make," said the brunette softly.

Pale eyebrows raised in expectation.

"Please don't tell me you're a fan of Barry Manilow," ventured the blonde.

"I - what?" jabbered the archaeologist. "No...no, where'd you even get - never mind. What I meant -"

Elsie's eyebrows disappeared under her disheveled fringe. "Oh my God...you voted for Brexit! That's it, isn't it?"

"Of course not! Bloody Hell, I wasn't even in the country at the time!"

"Well stop beating around the bush and tell me!"

"I'm trying but someone keeps interrupting!"

"Okay!"

As Lara let out a huff of frustration as the blonde's arm snaked affectionately around her waist.

The American had a distinct knack for pushing her buttons; and truth be told - though she never admitted it - the archaeologist furtively enjoyed having her buttons pushed.

But she now had to broach a serious topic: how would Elsie react to the truth?

The brunette drew in a sombre breath.

"My motives for sending Doppie to you weren't entirely...altruistic."

"Oh, that," said the American with surprising nonchalance. "Look, I can understand you not wanting her around, if people were to mistake her for you - "

"It's more than that," interrupted the archaeologist.

The blonde grew still, a flicker of uncertainty crossing her features.

"I didn't ask you to take her in for her benefit," continued the brunette cautiously. "I did it because of the protection she would provide, if Trinity were to ever -"

"Oh please," breathed the blonde, waving a dismissive hand. "For a second there you actually had me worried...that's not exactly news, Lara."

Lara blinked. "You...knew?"

"Well, more like suspected," said the American, squeezing the Englishwoman's waist. "And I also know that's a half-truth. You do care about her, Lara, whether you admit it to yourself or not. You want her to have a real shot at life. Maybe the protection angle was own personal self-delusion for sending her, but it wasn't your only reason."

The archaeologist rubbed the back of her neck self-consciously. "You're giving me too much credit, I think."

"Nope," smiled the blonde. "You know, in a way she's probably the closest thing to a sister you'll ever have."

Lara shuddered and pinched the bridge of her nose. "Sisters...don't shag each other."

"Maybe not," returned the blonde. "But you two share more than just memories. There's a subtle bond there, even if neither of you are exactly sure how to deal with it. I think it's kinda sweet, really."

Lara swallowed. "I...I don't know if I'd call it that..."

Elsie leaned in and whispered into her companion's ear. "She's loyal to you, you know."

"Is she...?"

The American nodded. "Wouldn't spill the beans about New Zealand no matter what I tried. Hell, even my pancake bribe didn't work, and that's always her Achilles' Heel. Never said a single word, would just stand there staring at me when I asked...frustrating as all get out, really."

The Englishwoman took a deep breath.

Oh, bloody Hell...

"Fine. If it's that important to you...it was...strangely nice."

Elsie gaped at her companion. "Whoa...details, girl!"

Having opened the door the tiniest sliver, Lara was determined to keep her foot firmly planted against its base.

"And that's all I will ever say on the matter."

"Dammit!"

The blonde edged closer; Lara had a feeling something big was coming.

"Okay, I get that you don't want to tell me, so...how about you show me?"

Grey and brown eyes locked.

Lara hesitated; she wanted to, desperately. But the memory of her companion almost hysterical with fright had long lingered in her mind.

The blonde evidently sensed her trepidation.

"I won't freak out, I promise," voiced the American softly. "I know you won't hurt me."

Lara's mouth opened slightly. Her gaze drifted down to the ball of her companion's shoulder, laid bare by the blonde's loose-fitting top; the smooth, pale skin glistening in the golden glow shining from the horizon.

Gods, how she wanted to eat it.

The brunette's breathing had unconsciously accelerated, tiny beads of sweat forming on her brow.

The blonde leaned in until less than a finger's breadth separated their lips.

"C'mon, girl..."

"If...if you're sure...?" whispered Lara hoarsely.

Squeezing a hand between the tree and the back of her companion's head, the blonde pressed in, her tongue seeking out its opposite number. Lara sighed, giving herself to the desire coursing through her body.

Tongues writhed together in an intimate waltz, Lara leading the sensual dance deeper into her companion's mouth. She leaned in and clutched Elsie's willowy form, long pent-up desire sending her fingers clawing into the blonde's sides and back.

There was a clank and tinkle as goblets toppled onto plates, courtesy of Elsie wrapping pulling the Englishwoman away from the tree to wrap her legs around her waist. They were making a mess - not that the brunette cared.

Lara slid her lips down Elsie's chin, the blonde throwing her head back as the archaeologist began exploring the slender column of her throat, alternately kissing and suckling the alabaster skin as she went.

Elsie groaned, Lara's lips sensing the guttural reverberations as she continued down the subtle contours down to its base, pausing momentarily before shifting course to nibble the blonde's collarbone.

She munched along the delicate, gently curving bone until she reached the exposed shoulder; opening her mouth wide, she clamped down on the smooth ball - and bit.

"OW! Fuck!" cried the blonde. "So much for not hurtin'!"

Lara nearly disengaged in response, but the laughter in the blonde's voice was unmistakable: she was still on the right side of the line.

The Englishwoman resumed her assault, her teeth not quite breaking the skin - but only just.

Elsie continued her mirth-laced lamentation.

"Ahh! Fucking cannibal!"

Lara unclamped her hold on the blonde's shoulder and slowly slid back to the beckoning clavicle, pressing in until she'd embedded the slender bone in her mouth. Elsie's legs tightened around her midsection in anticipation of her companion's intentions.

"Don't you daARGGHH!"

The Englishwoman almost gasped at the sudden increase in constriction around her waist, which was now becoming genuinely painful.

Throwing herself to one side, Lara rolled her back onto the grass, the blonde's legs unlocking in reflex as she flailed wildly for a foothold. Lara used her momentum to continue her rotation until she came to a sitting position astride her companion's hips, the American sprawled out on the grass beneath her.

"Oof!"

Lara grinned at the American before hunching down. With one hand she pushed up the thin material of Elsie's sweater, revealing a pale, toned abdomen, the flawlessly, cream-like skin marred by a single scar in her side: the residual wound which had nearly ended her life two years before.

The archaeologist hesitated; when last she'd been in this position the result had been disastrous. Tucked away in her brain was the disturbing image of terrified grey eyes staring back at her. If she were to provoke the same reaction now -

"C'mon!"

Before Lara could react the blonde had grabbed her wrists and pulled the Englishwoman into her, the archeologist's face planting itself in the hollow just below her ribcage.

"Urf!"

Lara smiled into the softness. Okay...apparently we're good...

She pushed the sweater up further as she proceeded to sample the ivory flesh, kissing, caressing, suckling. Her brain was cooking from the delectable sensations - the blonde was delicious.

More passionate kisses. She suckled the supple flesh between her teeth and bit down, desire putting in slightly more pressure than she'd intended.

"Ow! Geez, would you like some fries with that...?"

The brunette responded by continuing to ravage the smooth expanse of pale skin with even greater intensity, suckling and biting and tasting as her companion writhed and groaned beneath her.

Lara slowly shifted her scouring higher, up the slope leading to the blonde's ribcage, pausing to sample each of the ribs with a loving mix of nibbles and kisses as she slowly made her way up her friend's heaving chest.

Most conveniently, there was no bra impeding her quest - but there was more than enough flesh for the brunette to sink her teeth into.

Elsie buckled and let out a yelp, even as she clawed at Lara's shoulders to prevent her from disengaging.

The Englishwoman continued to taste the supple mounds, her tongue lapping in a sweet saltiness as the pale skin developed a faint sheen.

"Okay," panted Elsie, "this is...SO much better...than solo..."

As she continued her pillaging of her companion's flesh Lara sensed the blonde's racing heart desperately trying to break out of her chest; the brunette planted her lips directly above the precious treasure, half wishing she could kiss it proper.

Love you so much...

The blonde bucked. Once, twice. Lightly at first, then more forcefully, driving her knees against the brunette's midsection.

She wanted out.

Shit!

It had been too much; Lara's worst fears had come to pass.

The damage had been permanent.

The Englishwoman hastily rolled off and pushed herself onto her knees, expecting the worst.

"Elsie, I'm sor-"

But Elsie didn't retreat; rather, she was frantically tugging at her jeans.

"Help me," gasped the blonde, "get these off...I'm sticky..."

Almost overwhelming relief struck the brunette, followed quickly by a strongly resurgent desire.

"Oh...yes!"

Grabbing the bottom of her companion's jeans she duly tugged, the blonde kicking herself free of the constricting denim.

Lara tossed the trousers aside and scampered forward on all fours .

"Are you absolutely sure ab-"

And fell face-first into the blonde's crotch, courtesy of a scissor-motion leg lock around the back of her skull that thrust her forward without warning.

"Mmph!"

Pushing her head up slightly, the brunette hooked a finger over her friend's knickers - and tugged.

Elsie threw her head back and let out a screech of triumph.

Lara couldn't help but smile as she began delving into the moist, delicate folds.

You've beaten him, Elsie.

~ oOo ~

Lara lay in bed, lazily twisting her fingers through the disheveled mane pressed against her shoulder.

Try as she might, the archaeologist couldn't nod off.

She couldn't blame the events of the day. Indeed, she was immeasurably chuffed for her companion, having finally shaken herself free of her predator's spectre. After Lara had finally rolled off for the final time she'd laid there, staring at the bluish-pink skies before finally bursting into tears, the realization of the moment having finally kicked in. The monster had lost its teeth.

It had been entirely fitting that it had taken place at the setting of the sun, mused the archaeologist; she recalled that in ancient Celtic cultures, the new day was measured from the moment the sun disappeared over the horizon, not the midnight hour imposed centuries later.

And for Elsie, it was most definitely a new day. A new life.

For Lara, a different measure of time was gnawing at her.

She'd spent three days with the blonde since landing in London. Of this there was no question.

So why did the entire world seemed determined to insist that four days had passed? Even Elsie seemed to be oblivious.

We landed on the twenty-ninth, why does she think the thirtieth? She was right there with me, after all...

More disturbingly, if the brunette was right - and she knew she was - what had happened during the missing day?

She had to know.

Gazing out the window, one light was discernibly moving amid the background of twinkling stars.

A slow progression roughly north to south. Unerringly straight.

An airliner.

Lara chewed her lip. Maybe...

Moving gingerly so as not to wake her companion, the brunette extracted herself from the bed.

Elsie hadn't stirred. Good.

There was one way for Lara to get the proof she needed to convince the blonde she wasn't dreaming: her ticket stub.

The brunette crouched over her bag next to the wardrobe and slowly unzipped the canvas.

She rummaged through her belongings until her fingers seized upon her moleskine. Deftly twisting off the restraining elastic, she flipped the tiny notebook open to the page marker.

Nothing.

Bloody Hell...I know I put it here...

She flipped through the preceding pages, unable to locate the missing stub. Shaking the notebook by the spine produced no better results.

Had it worked its way loose in the bag?

It seemed almost impossible, what with the rubber band keeping the book tightly bound. But she had to be sure.

She emptied her bag on the floor and scoured the contents. Aside from a crumpled old five pound note, there was nothing she hadn't expected.

And still no stub.

There's no bloody way it can't be here...

There was only one possibility, Lara concluded. Trouble was, the implications were unsettling: someone had searched through her belongings with the implicit goal of removing it.

Even more disturbingly, there was only one suspect.

Lara fixed her gaze on her quietly slumbering companion.

Why, Elsie...?

The brunette shook her head. No...no, she couldn't bring herself to suspect the blonde.

She trusted her friend with her life.

Maybe...maybe I'm just off, mused the archaeologist. It wouldn't be the first time I'd been absolutely convinced of being right only to be proved wrong...

There had to be some other way to get the proof she needed.

Her eyes settled on her phone amidst her scattered belongings.

Sam!

Grasping the device, she made her way down the hall to the bathroom and closed the door behind her.

Thumbing the device, she glanced at the time and hit quick dial.

2:09...bugger, she's not going to like this...

The tone pulsed half a dozen times before it picked up.

"La-"

There followed an awkward clatter - followed by Sam swearing in the background.

"Fuck!"

The brunette could hear frantic scuttling noises as the filmmaker retrieved her phone.

"Lara? Lara, are you okay?"

Sam's voice was an an awkward combination of grogginess and panic.

"I'm fine, Sam," replied the brunette soothingly. "I just...I need to ask you something."

"You need to...uh, okay?"

Lara swallowed. "What day did we land at Heathrow?"

Silence.

"Um...Sam...?"

"You called me at at two in the morning to ask me that?"

"Well...I suppose when you put it that way...it does seem a bit daft..."

"Just a bit!"

"Sorry," breathed the brunette. "But it really is important, Sam. I wouldn't have called you otherwise."

A sigh.

"Friday," replied the asian-American. "You landed on Friday."

"You're absolutely sure?"

"I picked you up!"

"So...the twenty-ninth, then."

A brief pause as Sam did the mental calculation. "Yeah, right."

Lara was deflated.

"Thanks, Sam."

"Aren't you going to tell me what this is about?"

"Uh..."

There was no point in worrying her friend; at least not until she had something tangible to go on, anyway.

"It was...to settle an argument," said the brunette, being mindful not to lie. "I was sure we'd landed on the twenty-ninth, but Elsie insisted it was the thirtieth."

A pregnant pause.

"You're kidding."

"I, ah...no."

"You two are nuts, you know that?" exclaimed the Asian-American. "Arguing at this time of night. Fine, put her on, I'll confirm the twenty-ninth if she doesn't believe you."

"Well...she's asleep, you see..."

"Oh, great," grumbled Sam. "Well, I'm glad to see someone's getting some shuteye..."

"I'm sorry, Sam," pleaded the Englishwoman. "I'll make it up to you."

"Hmph."

"No, really."

"Well..."

Lara could detect the subtle shift in her friend's demeanour - and she had a fair idea what was coming.

"Greece?"

Lara smiled. "It's a date."

"Okay," said the filmmaker, placated. "So, since I've got you on the phone...how's everything going? Aside from the stupid date thing, I mean?"

"Swimmingly," replied the archaeologist. "We went to a local fair today...she's loving it up here."

"Well, good," yawned Sam. "Now can I get back to bed, please?"

"Oh, just one more thing," interjected Lara hurriedly. "Did Kaz make any progress on the Mansucript?"

"You promised you wouldn't think about work, Lara."

"I haven't", assured the brunette. "Really. It's just...since we're talking..."

The filmmaker went silent.

"Sam?"

A sigh. "No, she didn't. She managed to track down one more page on the Web but it's almost entirely illustrations...hardly anything worth translating."

The brunette scuffed her foot along the linoleum. "Damn."

"Now stop thinking about that!"

The Englishwoman chuckled softly. "I will. Thanks, Sam."

"Okay...love you, sweetie."

"I love you too, Sam."

Lara flicked off the device and opened the door.

Back in the bedroom, she dropped her phone in her bag and turned to the peacefully slumbering form sprawled across the bed.

She loved the blonde. Beyond measure, really. But a nagging suspicion was now nagging at the brunette.

It was not a pleasant sensation. She trusted the girl implicitly. Had trusted her.

What are you playing at, Elsie?