A NUMBERS GAME, Chapter 10
"I think you were looking for this...?"
There was no mistaking the images on the ancient parchment; Lara took a half-step forward before stopping herself.
The goal she'd desperately sought for weeks lay just a few feet from her. But the price was entirely too high.
She tore her gaze from the ancient book and glared at the Sidhe.
"If you think this changes anything, you're sadly mistaken."
The girl raised an eyebrow.
A hand gently cupped the Englishwoman's shoulder.
"Lara...is that...?"
"It doesn't matter," replied the archaeologist sharply. "She can sod off."
"It does matter," countered the American. "Think of what you could do with this -"
The brunette whirled on her companion.
"No, Elsie," returned the Englishwoman, grasping her companion's shoulders. "We're getting out of here. Both of us."
"Stop it!" pleaded the blonde, her grey eyes welling anew. "I'm not walking out of here...you have to accept that..."
Lara frowned at her companion. "Bullocks. We've gotten out of tight spots before -"
"Listen to me!" begged Elsie, entwining her arms around her friend's. "Please just listen for once! That book...if you can use it to expose those Trinity dudes...take them down..."
Lara swallowed uncomfortably. She was well aware of what the manuscript potentially offered - she would give anything to get her hands on it.
- almost anything.
"For one, there's no guarantee of that," countered the brunette. "And two, I will never pay that price! You're not a bloody bargaining chip!"
The American drew back, arms falling to her sides.
"That's all I am now, Lara," said Elsie miserably. "Whether you accept it or not…"
"Stop saying that!"
"It's true," returned the blonde. "But with the manuscript...Lara, think of all the lives you could save..."
"Not at the cost of yours!"
"I'M ALREADY DEAD!" cried Elsie, pounding her chest in emphasis.
Lara clenched her jaw to keep her bottom lip from quivering: the mere notion of never seeing her friend again was stomach-churning.
The blonde pressed on, her voice laced with strain: "You can't weigh one life against hundreds, maybe even thousands…even if you had a choice, do you think I could live with that?"
The brunette drew forward and cupped her palms to Elsie's cheeks, fighting back a surge of emotions.
"Do you think I could?" returned the archaeologist. "You told me once that life isn't a number's game...you can't have it both ways!"
The blonde drew in a shuddering breath. "That was different..."
Lara shook her head. "No, Elsie. Bloody Hell, just yesterday you were saying how you'd let the world burn rather than let anything happen to me! Don't you think I feel the same way?"
Elsie gently peeled off her companion's hands before drawing back, tears glistening her cheeks.
"It's more than that. I have a chance, Lara...a chance to make good..."
The Englishwoman's heart lurched. "Make good...on what? Elsie, I don't understand..."
The blonde clutched her shirt between white-knuckled fingers.
"Do you know what it's like to lose someone you love because you were powerless to help? To feel their life slip through your fingers...? To watch them just…just..."
Elsie's shoulders shook with grief as Lara wrapped the blonde in her arms.
"I do know, Elsie," rasped the brunette as she stroked the flaxen mane. "Though I wish I didn't..."
Lara resisted the urge to cast a backwards glance – but thus far the Sidhe seemed content to let things play out.
"This is about your friend, isn't it?" ventured the brunette gently. "Elsie, you can't change what happened. You can't throw away your life because of -"
"You don't understand," sobbed the blonde into the brunette's shoulder. "She saved my life…she turned the wheel...last second...her side took the impact..."
Lara pressed her cheek to her friend's forehead.
"I'm so sorry…I didn't know. But I thought you'd come to terms with that..."
Elsie drew in several ragged breaths before answering.
"I thought so too," squeaked the blonde.
Lara's bottom lip trembled as she clutched her friend tightly. "Oh, Elsie..."
"I can't bring her back," cried the blonde into her companion's cheek. "But if I can keep you from meeting the same fate...maybe she won't have died for nothing..."
"She didn't die for nothing, Elsie," countered the brunette. "Your very life is proof of that."
The American shook her head. "Please take the book...so much at stake..."
Lara gently grasped the blonde by the shoulders and pushed back until she was staring into bloodshot grey eyes.
"Elsie, no," rasped the archaeologist. "I won't partake in this...this sacrifice! Irrelevant of what's on the other side of the balance sheet!"
The two friends stared at each other in until the blonde's shoulders finally sagged in apparent acquiescence.
"You're right," finally admitted the American, her voice hoarse. "I shouldn't ask you to make that choice..."
The brunette caressed her cheek and smiled. "That's my girl. We'll figure this out. "
Elsie nodded slowly and drew back.
"Then...I'll make it for you..."
Lara's spine became ice.
She stepped forward, only to have the blonde keep out of reach.
"What are you doing?"
But in horror she'd already divined the American's intention: beyond the stone circle lay the ancient escarpment, a near hundred foot drop that tapered out to a sharp slope of jagged stone.
Lara knew such a fall would almost certainly prove fatal - and Elsie's fragility would do nothing to improve her odds.
"Stop," implored the brunette as she slowly advanced, mindful of the blonde's fleetness of foot. If Elsie bolted, the odds of the Englishwoman winning the roughly twenty yard sprint would be slim at best.
Her only advantage was that the blonde was facing her, edging backward; the moment she'd turn to run would present the brunette with a split second where she could close the gap – but it would be an eye blink moment.
Lara tensed as she crept forward: she knew full well the consequences of a miss.
"I wish...I wish I could tell you...make you feel…just how much you've meant to me," said the blonde, her voice cracking with emotion as she continued to edge back.
"No," rasped the brunette. "Don't you fucking do this…"
Elsie's cheeks glistened with tears as she continued her inexorable retreat. It dawned on Lara that the blonde might not give her the opportunity she needed – and every second brought her closer to the precipice.
"I love you," choked Elsie.
Lara lunged.
Her outstretched hand connected with the American's shin. For the briefest of moments her fingers wrapped themselves around their quarry, but the hard impact with the ground combined with the blonde's flight caused her grip to slip – and the blonde was off and running.
No!
But her momentary hold had thrown the American's stride askew, her shoulder striking the flank of one of the ancient moonlights. It was only a glancing blow, but the stone's unyielding mass threw the energy of the impact squarely back at the blonde, caused her to tumble to the ground. But Lara knew she would not be down long.
The archaeologist pushed off in an instant, flinging herself with an energy born of desperation – Elsie was already scrambling back to her feet.
The brunette collided bodily with the blonde, sending both women into a fresh tumble. Only this time Lara's hand managed a firm grip just above the American's ankle.
Elsie scrambled back on her elbows, desperately trying to kick herself free of the
Englishwoman's hold. Lara's grip slipped, her fingers clutching instead to a fistful of denim: and with the blonde's frantic retreat, she was being given no opportunity to move up to get a better grip.
She resorted to brute force.
Jerking back on the pant leg, Lara managed to interrupt the violent thrashing enough to clamp her left hand onto the heel of Elsie's trainer. Releasing her hold on the denim, she slapped her right on the blonde's toe box.
Got you!
It worked. Her two-handed hold on her friend's foot greatly reduced the amount of energy Elsie could impart to her kicks. The blonde finally ceased her backward progress, being unable to drag the Englishwoman's prone form further.
But Lara had not yet won: the American was just waiting for the briefest slackening of the archaeologist's hold to renew the struggle.
Stalemate. The two women stared at each other, breathing heavily.
Elsie cocked her free leg back, her heel aimed at her companion's forehead.
"Don't make me do this," panted the blonde.
Lara knew that should it connect, such a kick stood a fair chance of knocking her senseless, if even momentarily - and that would be the end of it.
There was only one play left to her, sickened as she was by the prospect.
"Forgive me…"
Lara violently jerked her hands in opposite directions, muscles straining to the limit: the sudden motion twisted Elsie's foot to an unnatural angle.
A muffled crack of bone. An ear-splitting scream as Elsie threw her head back and wailed to the heavens, the shrieks scarring the Englishwoman's soul. The blonde thrashed in renewed frenzy, but the movements were reactionary, without stratagem: Lara finally had her opening.
The brunette scrambled forward and threw her arms around the blonde, the action intended to both succour and restrain - the edge of the escarpment loomed dangerously close.
"I'm sorry," cried Lara, her heart twisting as Elsie's screams devolved into agony-laced gasping. "I'm so sorry..."
The Englishwoman had long been a creature of necessity. Killing enemies. Destroying artefacts to prevent their falling into the wrong hands.
But injuring the blonde - even to save her life - struck her particularly hard. But Elsie would heal.
And more importantly, she would live.
The Sidhe sauntered into view.
"You might have been better off to let her go," said the girl with unnerving casualness. "If you want that book -"
"SOD OFF!" snapped the Englishwoman.
The Sidhe arched an eyebrow, but duly drifted out of sight.
The blonde was trembling from the fire consuming her shattered ankle.
"Won't...let you die," gasped the American as she clutched the brunette. "I won't...I won't..."
"No one dies here, Elsie," returned Lara softly, gently running her fingers through the young woman's disheveled mane. "We'll figure this out..."
The blonde pressed her cheek against the brunette's. "I'm gone...you have to accept..."
Lara tightened her grip on her companion. "Stop saying that!"
Elsie swallowed hard.
"Always wanted...to make a difference," choked the American. "Never really could in life...but maybe now..."
Lara drew back and raised her fingers under her blonde's chin. Brown and grey eyes locked.
"How can you even say that?" asked the Englishwoman painfully. "Elsie, your life is anything but meaningless!"
The Englishwoman's stomach lurched at the American's wretched countenance; she'd never seen her friend so utterly despairing.
"Bloody Hell, I'd be long dead right now if it wasn't for you," continued the brunette, her voice wracked with emotion. "And more than that...Elsie, you've been a light in my life since the day I met you. I was not in a good place back then...but you pulled me back from the edge. You made me realize there's more to life than always looking over my shoulder...than always digging through the past. That some treasures aren't to be found hidden under layers of dirt and rubble..."
Elsie shook her head again, tears of anguish and agony staining her cheeks.
"You made a difference," returned the Englishwoman, clutching the blonde's shoulders in emphasis. "And what about Doppie?"
Elsie slowly shook her head. "She...she'll manage..."
"No, Elsie," replied Lara solemnly. "She won't."
The blonde's rapid breathing became shallow. "What do you mean by that...what are you saying?"
Lara took a deep breath: she'd be breaking her promise. But the situation was desperate.
"You're the onlyreason she still exists, Elsie."
The blonde's bloodshot eyes widened.
"No...no, she wouldn't..."
"I might've been the unwitting catalyst that brought her into this world," explained the archaeologist solemnly. "But Elsie, you're what's keeping her in it."
Elsie's bottom lip trembled.
"She...she told you that?"
Lara nodded. "Your friendship...it's all that matters to her."
Elsie ran a shaking hand back through her hair. "I thought...I mean, I knew she...I just didn't think it was that bad..."
The blonde's shoulders sagged.
"Oh god, Lara...what am I going to do?"
The brunette leaned close.
"Help me save two lives today," pleaded the archaeologist. "Give me my Elsie back. The girl that never quits, that never gives give up, the one who helps me out of jams...I really need her right now."
The blonde drew in a shuddering breath. "I just...can't see how -"
Lara's grip on her friend's shoulders tightened.
"I've seen your library, " whispered the brunette so as not to be overheard. "You know the legends, the stories. You know these...beings...better than I do. Give me something I can use."
The American frowned.
"Don't you think I've already tried to figure a way out of this?" returned the blonde plaintively. "This is a game for them, Lara...we've flubbed two moves and now we're in checkmate."
The Englishwoman's eyebrows slowly rose. A distant memory drifted back into awareness - something Winston had read to her during that rainy night so many years before.
Riddles. Contests. They loved pitting wits against mortals.
"It maybe chess to them, Elsie," whispered the brunette. "But...what if we were to change the game?"
"I...I'm not sure what -"
The archaeologist caressed the blonde's cheek. "Promise me you won't go anywhere."
Elsie winced as she shifted her injured leg. "I think...you've taken care of that already..."
"Promise me," insisted Lara, intensely conscious of the escarpment's uncomfortable proximity.
The American sighed. But she nodded to the brunette's satisfaction.
Lara pushed off and rounded on the Sidhe: the girl was casually leaning back against one of the ancient stones, legs crossed as though waiting for a double decker.
"Let's make this even more interesting, shall we?"
The Sidhe straightened, her curiosity piqued.
"What do you have in mind?"
Lara tried to conceal her nervousness; she was accustomed to throwing her own life on the roulette table, but now...
"Let's raise the stakes," proposed the brunette. "Double or nothing."
"Lara, NO!" protested Elsie.
A wry smile crossed the girl's features.
"You have spirit, Lara," said the Sidhe in admiration. "I like that. I take it you're proposing a contest?"
"I am," affirmed the Englishwoman.
The girl sauntered over to stand before the brunette. "If you win?"
"We go free. Both of us."
The girl nodded slowly.
"And if you don't...?"
Lara swallowed. "Therein lies the 'nothing'..."
The girl's smile widened. "All right...but I get to pick the game."
"That's not -"
The Sidhe held up a finger. "Take it or leave it, as they say."
The brunette's shoulders sagged. Shit...
"Fine."
The girl grinned.
"Well now...what would be the best way to throw the indomitable Lara Croft off her game?" breathed the Sidhe as she slowly traced a finger along the archaeologist's collarbones. Lara stood perfectly still, forcing herself not to react to the strangely tingling touch.
The girl's violet eyes widened. "I know! Truth or Dare. That's a popular one, isn't it? First one who doesn't answer loses."
Lara gaped. "But...how will that work? We could simply lie."
"Not to worry," soothed the Sidhe. "I'll know if you're lying."
The brunette shifted. "And what if you do?"
That dazzling smile again. "I won't."
Lara huffed. "And you expect me to believe that?"
"Would it make you feel any better if I gave you my word?"
Lara sensed a trap. And sidestepped.
"Are you giving it?"
A smirk. "You're a sharp one, aren't you? But yes, I'm giving you my word."
The brunette tapped her thigh nervously. "Why is that not exactly reassuring?"
The girl shrugged.
"I'm not the one who broke a sacred oath."
Lara threw her arms out. "How can I be held at fault for breaking a vow I have no recollection of making?"
The Sidhe cocked her head.
"Good point," conceded the girl. "But, that's a question for another day."
The Fey took a step back. "Ready?"
Lara sighed and nodded.
"Right," said the Sidhe. "I'll go first."
"Wait a minute, who says you -"
"House rules," stated the girl firmly. "And since I'm the House -"
"Fine!" barked the brunette.
The Sidhe's beautiful face settled into contemplation, tapping a finger along her cheek.
"Now then...what question might you refuse to answer?"
The Englishwoman's stomach was churning under the Sidhe's gaze; she couldn't shake the disturbing suspicion the girl knew everything about her.
"I know!" exclaimed the Sidhe. "Tell me, Lara...whom do you love most in the world?"
The brunette swallowed.
You would ask that...
From behind, a soft voice.
"It...it's okay, Lara," said Elsie gently. "It's all right...I know where I stand..."
But in the Englishwoman's churning mind, the leanings of her heart were anything but distinct.
Memories fluttered into consciousness: curled up with Sam under a canopy of stars. Sitting together in the shadow of Kilimanjaro, a can of beans steaming over the campfire. Clasping a proffered chocolate-stuffed Union Jack mug as the filmmaker rambled on. Clutching an exhausted Sam as the clouds over Yamatai slowly dissipated.
Their tearful heart-to-heart at the Manor as the Japanese-American shoehorned her way back into the archaeologist's life, turning her back on her own family in the process.
Crouched down at a tent flap as Elsie smiled back at her, the unfamiliar grey eyes somehow reassuring. Running in desperation through blackened forest, the blonde's limp form in her arms. Clutching the trembling American close as the blonde tearfully bared the darkest recesses of her soul.
Stumbling back against the airport wall as a squealing Elsie flung herself at the archaeologist, wrapping her legs around the Englishwoman's waist for good measure.
The brunette's eyes clouded; both young women had irretrievably ensconced themselves in the deepest recesses of the Englishwoman's heart: how could she possibly cherish one over the other?
She could not, she finally realized. Any choice would be perjury.
"I...I don't know," finally croaked the archaeologist, shoulders sagging in defeat.
The girl frowned. "That's no answer."
"It's the only answer," rasped the brunette, shaking her head. "It's the only truth."
The Sidhe's eyes narrowed, scrutinizing the Englishwoman.
There followed a lengthy silence as the archaeologist's breathing stilled.
"Fine. Your turn."
Lara let out a breath of relief, echoed by that of the blonde behind her. But she was now faced with a fresh conundrum: what question could she possibly pose that the Tuatha de Dannan might refuse to answer?
She was at a severe disadvantage; she knew virtually nothing of their captors, while they evidently roam through her mind at will.
Time to get creative, Lara...what would she be loath to reveal?
Lara ran her hand along the back of her neck.
"Is this…your home?"
Lara knew she'd flubbed the question before the Sidhe had even begun to laugh.
"Oh, that's cute," replied the girl, strolling along the edge of the stone circle. "Do you think we all live under hills, Lara? Don't believe everything you hear in faerie tales. Personally, I call London home. I only dropped in for the ceremony."
"London?"
The girl spun an energetic pirouette. "So much to see...so much life there, mundane as it is. You'd be surprised how many of us wander through your lives without your noticing. I've even seen your flat, though that was decades before you were born. It was rather nicer back then...a painter lived there originally, did you know? A good one, too, at least by mortal standards."
Lara swore under her breath.
"So, back to me, then."
The girl drummed her fingers along one of the stubbier monoliths. "So tell me, Lara...do you enjoy killing?"
Elsie let out a disbelieving gasp.
The Sidhe ignored the blonde, instead focusing her gaze on the Englishwoman.
The brunette had nearly blurted out the automatic response: Of course not! - but forced herself to swallow the outburst.
The truth was altogether more complicated.
She could still visualize her first kill as though she still held the unchambered pistol in her hand; the sickening horror at having taken a human life, even in self-defence. The nightmares which had persisted months, years after Yamatai.
The unseeing eyes haunted her still.
The dark emotions that stirred deep within her could not be denied. She'd long tried to console herself that she only killed when left with no other choice, but once the carnage started the reaper-like bloodlust invariably returned full force.
Vile bastards, she'd told herself as she snuffed out one life after another. Killers, all. They have to be stopped.
It's me or them.
All true. And yet...
The Englishwoman closed her eyes and confronted the beast within, a photographic negative of the heartbreakingly beautiful facade she presented to the outside world. Yamatai had brought it perilously close to the surface - and it had continued to voraciously rip away her thinning layers of humanity with every addition to her body count since.
"Yes," whispered the brunette as a bead of sweat trickled down her temple.
"You fucking bitch!" cursed Elsie. "Are you getting your 'jollies' from this?"
"See, that wasn't so hard," returned the Sidhe smoothly, ignoring the American's outburst.
"Your turn."
The archaeologist's eyes popped open.
She had to end this. For Elsie's sake. And for her own sanity.
What was next? Turning her back on Sam in her hour of greatest need? Leaving Alex behind in the Endurance?
But her ammunition was seriously lacking. What could she possibly fling back at her tormentor?
From behind, a sharp breath of realization.
"Lara! Her name!"
"No help from the gallery!" exclaimed the Sidhe, shooting the blonde a warning glare.
Lara frowned. "What?"
"Ask - hurg-"
The American's voice quickly degenerated into a serious of violent, hacking coughs.
The brunette spun on her heel; Elsie was in distress, arms folded against her midsection.
Lara whirled back on the Sidhe. "What are you doing? Stop it!"
The girl made a casual wave, and the blonde instantly drew in heaving gulps of air.
"Try that again," warned the Sidhe, "And perhaps you'd like to experience drowning for real."
"Don't!" pleaded the brunette. "Don't hurt her!"
"Don't think...she can," gasped Elsie. "T'swhy...she needed you..."
Lara's gaze alternated in rapid succession between the two women.
"I don't underst-"
"Your turn," repeated the girl, the brunette noting a twinge of impatience - or perhaps agitation? - in her captor's tone. "Pose your question."
Lara's swallowed her bottom lip as she considered her options, limited as they were. It seemed nonsensical, trivial even - but Elsie's suggestion seemed to have subtly rattled the fey woman.
She had nothing else: the Englishwoman would put her faith in her friend.
"What is your name?"
"That's not a valid question," returned the girl instantly. "You lose your turn."
The brunette pressed on, sensing an advantage. "Show me the rule that explains certain questions are off limits."
The Sidhe's expression became stony.
"I thought so," returned the Englishwoman. "Answer or forfeit."
Her tormentor's previously unassailable confidence quickly eroded, replaced with a nervous anxiety as she quickly paced back and forth among the stones.
"Well?"
"I'm thinking!"
"You've beaten her, Lara," voiced Elsie with palpable relief. "It doesn't matter what she does now..."
"Hush!"
Lara frowned. "Explain."
"Legend holds that to know the true name of a fey gives one complete power over it," voiced the blonde. "They would never reveal it to a mortal...if she did, she would be forced to do your bidding, and if she doesn't, she loses the game. Either way..."
Lara turned back to the girl; the Sidhe's grim expression was admission enough of the truth of the blonde's words.
"So then," pressed the archeologist, "I take it you forfeit? Or are you seriously willing to spend the next several years cleaning the Manor?"
The girl slowly drew back. A slow rumble filled the air.
Shapes began emerging from the trees. Grey, indistinct at first, gradually coalescing into recognizable shapes.
The nine women from the ritual - and gazing at Lara with expressions that could best be described as chilling.
"I'll remind you that you agreed to this," said the brunette, addressing the girl. "We've won. You have to uphold -"
The Sidhe swung an arm diagonally as though slashing through a drapery.
The archaeologist was plunged into blackness.