A NUMBERS GAME, Chapter 11
A tiny hand stretched out before Lara - her own.
Speckled in blood.
No, wait - a fresh drop dripped on her thumb, having fallen from the brush head.
Paint...?
Another hand - larger, and considerably less splattered - loomed into view, clutching a pungent rag that reeked of acetone. A muffled laugh as the rag began dabbing her cheeks.
"You little Munchkin...hold still, you're more red than pink..."
A face filled her field of view, brown eyes soft and loving. She instantly recognized the woman's beautiful features.
Lara gasped.
Mother...?
Her eyes popped open to blue skies.
Quickly shooting up to a sitting position, Lara desperately reached out - only to find herself clutching air.
No...
The fluttering of reeds and distant chirping of birds brought the brunette to stark reality. Lara sat unmoving, struggling to bring her rapid breathing down to a more manageable rate.
The memory had seemed so vivid...but of course it was not to be.
The Englishwoman slowly took in her surroundings. She was at the edge of a narrow, winding gravel road, flanked on either side by waist-high dry stone walls. To her right stood her motorcycle, still propped up on its kickstand exactly where she'd left it. A few feet beyond lay a toppled scooter, partly obscured by the thick roadside grasses.
Perched atop the stone wall across from her was a lone magpie, eyeing her curiously.
A low groan reached the brunette's ears. There followed a faint stirring from the sedges to her left.
Elsie!
Scuttling over on hands and knees, the brunette started to help the blonde to a sitting position, only to jerk back at the American's yelp of pain.
"Shit…sorry!"
Elsie grimaced as she gingerly propped herself against the stone wall, careful to avoid jostling her shattered ankle.
Lara brushed straying blonde locks from the American's eyes. "Are you all right? I mean, aside from…"
Elsie nodded as she settled into the deep grass, exhaling in relief.
Lara bit her lip. The lingering redness in the blonde's eyes underlined the young woman's emotional exhaustion.
But she was alive.
The brunette rocked back on her heels and threw a glance in the direction of the hill in the distance: it looked unremarkable as ever, perfectly concealing its supernatural nature.
The tension in the brunette' shoulders ebbed slightly: the Sidhe had evidently kept their word, much to the Englishwoman's relief.
She settled down next to her companion, the blonde staring glassy-eyed at her injured foot.
Lara ventured into the uncomfortable silence.
"Elsie -"
"Lara -"
A shared hesitation.
"You go first," chimed the two in unison.
The friends shared an awkward chortle.
Elsie broke the deadlock. She turned to the archaeologist, grey eyes full of concern. "Are you going to be okay?"
"Me?" replied Lara incredulously. "I'm not the one with a broken foot."
"Never mind that," returned the blonde. "Lara, I'm worried how you're dealing with what happened back there. Those questions..."
Lara turned away and smoothed out the creases in her pant leg. "I'll be fine."
"Bullshit," countered the American forcefully. "You've been fighting with yourself ever since I met you. You don't enjoy killing any more than I enjoy shepherd's pie."
Lara swallowed.
"You forget, Elsie," voiced the brunette sadly. "She would've called me out on a lie. I had to be truthful...hard as it might be for you to accept that..."
The blonde shook her head. "She accepted it only because you've so utterly convinced yourself you're some sort of soulless killing machine. But then that's your coping mechanism, isn't it? You wrestle with that guilt over and over until it turns into self-loathing. It's how you keep yourself from going off the deep end."
The brunette opened her mouth and closed it again.
Elsie gingerly shifted closer until their hips touched.
"Look...do you really think I'd hang out for a second with with someone who gets her kicks from taking lives? If you won't give yourself some credit then at least throw a little my way."
Lara tugged at the cotton fabric covering her knee. "We all make questionable decisions in life."
"Being your friend is not a questionable decision," stated the blonde. "You know Lara, you might have great instincts where archaeology is concerned, but when it comes to matters of the Human condition you trip up rather easily. Need I remind you it was your lack of trust that got us into this mess?"
Lara turned to the blonde, brown eyes earnest. "About that...I want you to promise you'll never put yourself at risk for me again."
The American stilled. "Nice segue."
"Elsie -"
"I can't promise that."
Lara frowned.
"Do you value your life so little?"
A hard swallow. "Of course not. I just...value yours more, is all."
Lara turned to gaze at the magpie pruning its feathers. "I don't know if I can accept that."
"You don't have a choice," returned the American, nudging her companion. "You may as well not accept the air we breathe."
The brunette shook her head. "You can't just...throw your life away..."
"I was hardly doing that," countered the blonde. "I think I was getting a pretty good return, all things considered."
Painful memories loomed from the shadows; Lara struggled to push them back into the abyss lest they overwhelm her inner defenses.
"Have you stopped for a moment to consider that every time we've spent together...your life has been in peril?"
Elsie huffed. "That's not true. Look at just last Christmas, we got through that without so much as a scratch."
"Please don't trivialize this," said the brunette. "You very nearly died today."
"I'm not," replied the American. "But Lara, you're nothing if not fatalistic. We could've avoided all this if you'd just trusted me, like you said you would...this was hardly fated to happen."
"I..."
The archaeologist winced at the fresh pang of guilt. There was no denying the the blonde's statement. But there was a more disturbing truth to consider - one she'd struggled with ever since Yamatai.
The brunette drew a deep breath. "Elsie...I'm terrified what might happen...if you and I keep on..."
The American entwined her free hand with the archaeologist's.
"Don't even think about going there," warned Elsie. "Sam told me how you two hardly spoke for almost two years, and how that tore her up more than that Himiko bitch ever could. I won't let you make that mistake again."
Lara struggled to keep her eyes from welling.
"I only wanted to keep her safe," rasped the brunette. "But in the end...I failed even at that..."
Elsie nudged the archaeologist's shoulder with her own.
"Look, we both know danger follows you like a goddamned shadow. So what? I don't give a flying fuck...the Reaper can kiss my ass."
The corners of Lara's mouth twitched.
"The Boatman would find you rather insolent, I think."
"I'd be his worst passenger ever," agreed the blonde, nodding. "He'd probably push me into the Styx halfway across."
"Or double the crossing fee."
"If he tried that I'd kick him in his bony balls."
Lara squeezed her companion's fingers between her own.
"All right," sighed the brunette. "I can see I won't dissuade you, so I'll drop it...on one condition."
Elsie's breathing slowed.
"Please...no haggis."
"No," agreed the Englishwoman. "But Elsie, I want you to stop holding yourself responsible for the choices of others."
The American's pale eyebrows rose sharply.
"Even if my actions factor into those choices?"
"Even if."
A pained frown: "I...I don't know, Lara...you're asking me not to have a conscience."
The brunette shook her head emphatically. "Of course not. I'm just asking you to show yourself the same consideration you reserve for others. You're no less deserving, believe me."
"That's ironic, coming from you."
"I have my moments."
The American settled her cheek against the brunette's shoulder.
"I guess...we both have our guilt bugaboos, huh..."
Lara blinked as an iridescent green damselfly shot past, the flutter from the tiny wings tickling Lara's brow. The tiny insect zipped across the road and began buzzing about the magpie.
The distant pastoral mixture of bird chirps and baying of sheep provided a decidedly idyllic backdrop as Lara basked in her companion's essence, a light breeze teasing the flaxen and chestnut fringes.
The brunette posed the question with careful delicateness: "What was her name?"
Silence.
Shit.
"Sorry," exhaled the Englishwoman. "I didn't mean to -"
"Maia," whispered the blonde. "She was a beautiful soul, Lara...you would've liked her."
"I'm sure I would have. I'm rather indebted to her, in fact."
Elsie shifted slightly. "How so?"
The brunette planted a kiss into the the mass of pale hair. "If it wasn't for her you and I would never have met...and I shudder to think of my life without you."
"That's...so sweet..."
Lara smiled. "It's thanks to you I no longer view blondes with instant suspicion."
The American chuckled. "Well, that's good. I'd hate to have to dye it."
"I'm not sure dark hair would suit you, anyway."
"Oh, it doesn't," confirmed the blonde. "Believe me."
"You've tried?"
"When I first moved to Maine," explained the American. "I'd been trying to change everything about myself...but as it turned out everyone thought I was sick all the time."
"Oh..."
Elsie sighed.
"Anyway...I suppose I'd better get Ivy's scooter back. I didn't leave a note, she probably thinks I stole it…"
"You can't ride in your condition," countered the brunette. "I'll take you to a hospital, we can worry about the scooter later."
"No, I can manage."
"Elsie, please. I'll take -"
Lara's attention was diverted to the far stone wall. The magpie was snapping at the damselfly, the insect buzzing around the bird as though determined to annoy the corvid.
Lara frowned. As the magpie snapped to the right, the insect would instantly zip off to the left, and vice-versa. There was a clear strategy to its movements, a deliberate pattern of avoidance that could not be explained by the random flutterings of an insect.
There was an intelligence behind it.
Lara tensed. "Elsie...I don't think we're alone..."
The blonde froze. "What...?"
The magpie cawed in irritation as it made several more futile stabs at the nagging damselfly.
"Lara, what's wro - holy shit!"
The corvid had hopped down to the ground before exploding in both size and shape, quickly adopting a humanoid form.
" - all right, all right! Stop pestering me!"
Lara scrambled to her feet - and found herself facing the sharply-dressed Sidhe from the hilltop.
"Not you again," said the brunette, quickly interposing herself before her injured companion.
"Oh, stop fretting, Lara," said the girl with a dismissive wave as she sauntered up to the archaeologist. "You worry entirely too much sometimes."
Lara placed her fists on her hips. "I tend to do that when lives are at stake. Call it a quirk."
The girl rolled her eyes. "Well there aren't any lives on the line this time. Happy?"
"Then why are you here?"
The Sidhe nodded at the tiny faerie fluttering over her shoulder. "This one won't stop badgering me. I think she likes you two..."
Lara's eyes locked with the fae's. The faerie smiled.
A surge of reassurance coursed through the Englishwoman. Somehow, she trusted the tiny creature.
But her instinctive caution still moved her to interpose herself as the Sidhe tried to slip past.
The girl arched an eyebrow. "Do you really think you can stop me, Lara?"
"We'll see, won't we?" growled the archaeologist. "What do you want with her?"
"It's okay," voiced the blonde. "I...I don't think she's here to cause trouble."
"There, see?" nodded the Sidhe. "Good intuition, that one."
Lara didn't move. "Yes, well, she can be a little naive sometimes."
The girl crossed her arms. "And you can be a little paranoid."
"Lara, please."
"Not until she tells me why she's here," voiced the brunette over her shoulder.
The Sidhe sighed. "Fine, then. Have it your way."
The girl's arms dropped to her sides. Lara readied herself as the Sidhe began to quickly grow in stature, looming half a head taller than the archaeologist.
She no longer held female form.
Lara drew in a sharp breath: before her stood a painfully recognizable form.
"You've got great instincts, girl," said Roth in his familiar gravelly voice. "You just have to trust them."
"Holy shit," breathed the blonde.
Lara steeled herself against the wellspring of emotions threatening to bubble up within her. Of course she knew it was all an illusion, and yet the sight of her mentor was heartbreaking - she had to fight an almost overpowering urge to fling herself at her old friend.
"Why are you doing this?" rasped the archaeologist, running a trembling hand back through her fringe. "You're not real."
'Roth' smiled at her, raising his hand to cup her chin with tough, calloused fingers. "I'm as real as you want me to be, girl...I've missed you."
"Is...is that Conrad?"
The adventurer scowled at the name. "Ugh...call me Roth, thanks. Never much cared for 'Conrad'."
Lara pulled back slightly, just enough to break the touch.
"It's not him, Elsie."
"I know, but...it kinda is too, isn't it?"
"I..."
There was no denying it. Every detail, from the familiar crinkles around the eyes to the silver hair, the dingy grey scarf, the nigh ever-present combat knife and ammunition pouches - physically, at least, it was Roth.
"I'm here to help," voiced the Englishman.
The archaeologist shook her head. "No..."
At that moment the faerie fluttered up, her moss-clad feet hovering at the tip of Lara's tiny being nodded.
Elsie's voice, soft and comforting: "Lara, it's okay...please."
The brunette let out a breath of frustration. In her heart of hearts she knew she couldn't stop the Sidhe from doing whatever she wished, bravado notwithstanding.
Slowly and grudgingly, the Englishwoman stepped aside. But she hovered near her companion, unwilling to abandon all caution.
"Right then," said 'Roth' as he moved near and dropped down to one knee next to the injured blonde. "Let's see how bad it is..."
Lara swallowed. Every word, every movement was perfect. It was hard not believing her old friend was here, with her right now. But she had to stay focused.
The adventurer gently felt the American's shattered ankle. "Aye...ye did a good one here, Lara..."
The brunette crossed her arms self-consciously.
"She didn't mean to," interjected Elsie, wincing slightly. "Well, not out of malice, anyway."
Roth smiled at the American. "It's nothing I can't handle...here, hold still."
Elsie held her breath as the adventurer placed his palm over the fractured bone. For several seconds nothing seemed to happen, until finally 'Roth' drew back on his haunches.
"There, good as new."
Elsie exhaled, echoing Lara's relief. Bracing her palms against the ground in anticipation of a jabbing pain, she tentatively twisted her foot back and forth.
Pale eyes popped. "It doesn't hurt!"
"Don't see why it would," countered the ex-Marine. "Nuttin' wrong with it."
Still not entirely convinced, the blonde grasped handholds along the stone wall and pulled herself up, being careful not to put any weight on her injured foot.
"Go on," urged 'Roth' as he got to his feet. "Try it out."
Elsie tested the ankle by bracing her foot against the ground, lightly at first, and then with gradually increasing force.
She looked to Lara and smiled.
"Are you -"
The blonde flung herself at the adventurer, wrapping her arms as best she could around the burly Englishman's midsection.
"Thank you so much!"
'Roth' smiled and patted the blonde's disheveled mane. "My pleasure, girl...I'm glad Lara has someone like you in her life. She doesn't make friends easily, sad to say."
The brunette fought the urge to pull her friend away.
"He's not real, Elsie," warned the archaeologist.
"He's real enough for me," breathed the blonde, as she continued hugging the ex-Marine. "Thank you, thank you, thank you..."
Lara could no longer restrain herself. Grasping her companion's arm, she forcibly pulled the blonde away from the adventurer.
"Hey! What the fuck!?"
"It's all right," voiced 'Roth' consolingly. "It's only natural she'd be protective of those she has left."
"I think I can be forgiven for that," shot back the brunette.
"Aye," agreed the adventurer.
Try as she might, Lara found it difficult to maintain a defiant stance before the form of her old mentor - her inability to make eye contact for more than a few seconds did nothing to help.
"Well, it's time I get going," said Roth, looking at the brunette with disturbingly convincing tenderness. "It was so good seeing you again, Lara. If only your mother could see how you turned out...she'd be so proud of you."
Oh no you don't...
Lara spun on her heel, turning her back on the adventurer. She crossed her arms and fought to beat down the swelling emotions within her.
"Just...go," rasped the archaeologist.
"Lara, for God's sake..."
"He's not real!" snapped the brunette.
"Maybe not, but...what's the harm?" implored the blonde gently. "He...she...no one's trying to hurt you."
Lara had to bite her bottom lip to prevent it from quivering.
"I never really got to say goodbye," voiced 'Roth' sadly. "Not a proper one, at least. I don't have many regrets, but...that was definitely one of them."
The flock of sheep in the distance were becoming blurred with tears.
It's not him...he's not here...he's gone.
Lingering memories drew back into consciousness: Roth's smile as she excitedly proffered her dirt-encrusted magatama for inspection. The ex-Marine's frankly shocked expression at Paddington Station. The muted thud of Mathias' hatchet, intended for her. Flames licking at the adventurer's motionless form atop the improvised pyre -
The brunette clasped a hand across her mouth as her shoulders began shaking.
The gravelly voice: You're a Croft.
It was too much. Too much loss. Too much pain.
She turned and flung herself at the adventurer, 'Roth' catching her in a heartfelt embrace.
Lara buried her face in the adventurer's scarf, the scent of dried sweat both familiar and haunting.
"Missed you...so much..."
"Aye," echoed Roth as he gently caressed the back of the brunette's head. "I wish I could've been there for you these last few years...you've put so much weight on your shoulders, girl..."
Lara blubbered into the dingy cotton. "No choice...so much...at stake..."
The large palm pressed against the small of her back.
"Just don't try to go it alone, Lara," counseled the Englishman. "You have good people in your life. You may not share blood with 'em, but they're your family regardless...and that's what really matters, in the end. Hold tight to that, and you'll never be alone."
Lara drew in shuddering breaths, vaguely aware that the form she was pressed against was quickly dissipating.
"Don't go," whispered the brunette. "Please."
But there was no use. She knew her mentor could never truly return - the hopeless quest for immortality would forever remain just that.
She stumbled slightly as her arms found themselves clutching air. The archaeologist dropped her limbs limply to her sides.
Aside from Elsie, they were alone.
The blonde approached cautiously.
"Hey...you okay?"
The brunette clumsily wiped her eyes and nodded.
"Yeah, I...I just don't know what she was playing at..."
Elsie began gently stroking the moistness from the Englishwoman's cheeks. "I don't think she was playing at anything."
Lara closed her eyes and took long, measured breaths, drawing comfort from the soothing touches.
"I don't understand those...people..."
"I don't think we're meant to," said Elsie softly. "Legends often describe them as decidedly fickle. But for what it's worth, I think she was being genuine. Maybe all that back there was for their benefit..."
When Lara opened her eyes the blonde's face filled her field of view, pale eyes soft and full of concern.
"Are you su-"
Lara abruptly pulled her friend into an embrace, clutching her friend's slender form close.
"I'm so very glad you're all right," rasped the brunette, clutching the blonde's slender form close. "I don't know what I would've done had I lost you...if...if..."
"It's okay, I'm right here," cooed Elsie. "No harm done...I'm just sorry we couldn't get that book."
The brunette squeezed the blonde harder.
"I'll manage."
"I hope so...we're gonna have quite the story to tell Sam, won't we?"
Lara laughed softly. "That we will."
~ oOo ~
Elsie tossed her toothbrush case into her bag in the corner of the bedroom. Lara hadn't moved from the open window: with her crossed arms resting atop the windowsill, she was still quietly surveying the surrounding countryside, apparently lost in thought – not that the blonde could blame her.
"Still coming down, huh?"
"Mm-hmm," acknowledged the archaeologist. Beyond the open window, the insistent drizzle showed no signs of abatement.
The American sighed. The dreary weather was rather appropriate, considering this was to be their last day together, possibly for months.
Elsie sauntered over to the bedroom window and pressed herself against her companion, snaking her arms around the Englishwoman's waist.
"You okay?" cooed the blonde, resting her chin against the brunette's shoulder. "You've been quiet. I mean more than usual."
"Yes, I've just...been thinking about yesterday," returned the Englishwoman softly.
"You and I both," agreed Elsie. "It's going to take a good while just to come to terms with what happened...to say nothing of seeing actual freaking faeries."
Lara chuckled. "That too."
"I have to ask…do you ever get used to the supernatural shit?"
"Would you?"
"Well when you put it that way..."
Elsie slipped her right hand under the hem of the brunette's shirt, lightly stroking the firm flesh underneath.
"Would you like to stay in today?" asked the blonde. "You know...just talk?"
Lara smiled. "I'd like that."
Elsie pulled her arm tighter against the Englishwoman's waist, drawing the perfectly shaped backside into her crotch.
"God, you feel so good," breathed the blonde, pressing her lips to her companion's nape.
The archaeologist let out a soft groan – more of a purr, really. The sound further stoked the blonde's desire, shifting her legs wider to draw the brunette further into her.
"Damn girl, I swear you were made in a fucking lab..."
A soft laugh. "I think you forgot your strap-on."
Elsie gasped and pushed off from the brunette, clasping a hand over her mouth in disbelief.
"Oh my God, from the mouth of babes!"
Lara turned to face the blonde.
"Please, I'm hardly that," protested the brunette.
"Are you kidding?" countered the blonde. "Lara Croft talking about dildos...that's akin to the Queen talking about drag racing or weenie roasts. Just...wow."
"I'll remind you I'm not royalty," said the Englishwoman as she pushed off from the windowsill and slid past the American.
The brunette slowly swung the bedroom door until it closed with a pronounced click. Turning the latch to the locked position, she turned back to her companion.
Elsie watched as Lara's hands reached back behind her head and fiddled with her ponytail. The brunette produced a long grey elastic which she then lobbed at the blonde.
The American never reacted: the rubber band bounced off her shoulder and flopped silently to the floor.
"Nice catch."
Elsie stared open-mouthed at the archaeologist. The brunette's thick chestnut mane was loose, perfectly framing her model-like features and cascading down onto her shoulders.
The American's heart throbbed. "Geezus, Lara..."
The Englishwoman took a step forward and paused. "You all right?"
It took several seconds for the brunette's question to register.
"Huh? Oh, yeah!" exclaimed Elsie as she ran the back of her against the corner of her mouth. "Yeah, just - excuse the drool here – it's just, I was beginning to think that thing never came off."
Lara smiled with relief and resumed her advance, coming before the blonde.
"Only on special occasions," breathed the brunette as she pressed against the American. "What saw we make this day worthy of remembrance?"
Elsie slid her arms up the archaeologist's back, marvelling at the rapturous sight before her.
"I thought you wanted to talk," said the blonde.
"Later," whispered the Englishwoman.
Lara shifted her weight so that she fell back-first onto the bed, her grip ensuring that Elsie landed atop the brunette.
The American smiled impishly. "We're really gonna dirty up their sheets, aren't we?"
Lara swallowed deeply as Elsie began nuzzling her cleavage.
"I don't expect they'll be salvageable."
~ oOo ~
The Flying Egg was bustling with activity, Heathrow's early morning denizens having filled the restaurant to capacity. But having arrived a good two and a half hours before Elsie's flight had enabled them to snag a booth.
" - so of course, that's all you hear about, but there are - Elsie? You okay?"
The blonde nodded as she set her glass of orange juice onto the table, her pale features contorted in disgust.
"Yeah, fine, thanks."
Sam frowned at her seat mate. "Really? You look like you just choked down a Cane Toad."
Across the table Lara gazed at the blonde with concern. "Are you coming down with something?"
"I told you, I'm fine!" protested Elsie. "And by the way, we hardly corner the market on weirdoes. You Brits have some real doozies, too...what about that dude who eats bats?"
Lara blinked. "That...who?"
Sam chuckled as she sliced a piece of egg with the edge of her fork. "I think she means Ozzy Osbourne."
Lara's fork clattered onto her plate.
"Oh, for God's sake, he does not eat bats!"
"Sure he does," countered the blonde. "Everybody knows that."
"It's apocryphal, Elsie!" argued the Englishwoman. "What is it with you and these bizarre culinary fetishes?"
"He's gotten worse through the years," returned the American as she forked a chunk of sausage into her mouth. "Now he eats nothing but bats. I saw it once on a documentary about rock legends."
Lara rolled her eyes and turned to the filmmaker. "Oh, for - Sam, back me on this, will you?"
The Asian-American fought to suppress a giggle. "Actually, sweetie, I think she's right."
Brown eyes popped. "What? Of course she isn't right!"
Elsie smiled knowingly. "Told ya."
"He was a guest on a cooking show a few years ago," continued the filmmaker. "They were demonstrating various ways to prepare and cook bats."
"I saw that!" exclaimed the blonde. "I liked the bat burgers, personally."
"I was partial to the Bat à l'Orange, myself," voiced Sam, twisting her foot around the table leg in an effort to keep from bursting out in mirth.
"Oh, that did look good," agreed Elsie, nodding enthusiastically. "But the requirement for Cornish Game Bats kinda spoiled it for me. Not exactly easy to get in Maine."
"Well there's always bat pie, or the classic bat and cheese sandwich...you seem like a bat and potatoes kind of girl."
Lara drummed her fingers against the table, her expression icy. "Are you two quite done?"
The two Americans burst into fits of laughter, leaning against each other for mutual support.
"Oh, sweetie," laughed Sam once the two had recovered sufficiently to converse, "We only rib you 'cause we love you, you know that!"
"Hmph."
"Aww, don't be mad," cooed the blonde as she leaned forward with a forkful of hash browns. "Here's a peace offering. Open wide…"
The brunette kept her mouth resolutely shut as she eyed the American icily.
"Oh c'mon," breathed Elsie, her fork gently prodding the brunette's plush lips. "You opened wide for me plenty of times yesterday."
Sam clasped a hand over her mouth and guffawed. "Oh my God!"
Lara's cheeks flushed furiously. "Could you be a little less overt? There are children about! "
"Fine," returned the blonde. "You granted me ingress on numerous occasions in the recent past...better?"
Sam's forehead struck the table with a muffled thunk.
"You little imp."
"Sticks and stones. Now eat up."
Sam's shoulders quivered. "God, you two..."
"I make you a counter-proposal," returned Lara. "I'll accept your offering if you take a good swig from your juice."
The blonde frowned. "What does that have to do with anything?"
"Take it or leave it, as they say."
A brief hesitation. Elsie dropped her fork onto her plate. "Fine."
Sam's head popped up as Elsie slowly brought the glass to her lips, holding the vessel in her peculiar two-handed fashion.
"Go on," urged Lara. "And no sips...I want to see that glass half empty."
The blonde's eyes squinted shut in poorly disguised disgust as she took several deep swallows, her shoulders convulsing in confirmation.
"There," gasped Elsie as she set the drink back onto the table with a bang. "Happy?"
Sam frowned as she grabbed the glass. "What the hell?"
She ran it back and forth under her nose: nothing smelled amiss. "What wrong with it?"
"Nothing, it's fine," replied the blonde.
Sam took a tentative sip. The familiar citrusy tang tickled her tongue. It was a taste typical of orange juice.
Lara looked at the filmmaker. "Well?"
Sam shrugged in confusion. "It's fine, so far as I can tell."
She turned to Elsie. "I'm curious, why'd you order something you hate?"
"I don't hate it," protested the blonde.
"Seriously? You can barely drink it without throwing up."
"I...I just don't like pulp, is all."
Sam huffed. "Why didn't you mention that when he took our orders?"
"I forgot."
"So get him to change it."
"It's fine! I don't want to be a bother."
Sam's hand shot up, waving at their server who was currently taking orders at a table halfway down the crowded restaurant. "Excuse me...garçon!"
Elsie hurriedly grabbed the filmmaker's sleeve and jerked her hand back down. "It's fine! Really, I'll finish it."
"And you say I'm a masochist," remarked the brunette, arching an eyebrow.
"It's not a big deal," continued the blonde, tugging the glass from the filmmaker's grasp. "Besides pulp is good for you..."
She took a fresh gulp - and heaved.
"Gah. There, see? Totally fine..."
Sam shook her head in disbelief. "Yeah, you looked like you really relished that. You're a nut, you know?"
Elsie snaked an arm around Sam's neck and pressed her cheek to the filmmaker's.
"Guilty as charged...and I'm gonna miss you guys something fierce."
Sam glanced at the archaeologist.
It was time.
"Well, about that...we, um, have a proposal of sorts..."
"Oh?"
"Yeah...Lara told me your story, see..."
Elsie instantly broke the hug and drew back. Sam sensed something was off – the blonde had raised her shields.
"Hey look, it's nothing to be ashamed of," added the filmmaker hastily. "It was hardly your fault, you were just a victim of circumstance."
Elsie threw an accusatory look at the brunette. "I can't believe this...you promised!"
Lara's eyes widened. "No...no, Elsie, it's not what you think..."
Sam looked from blonde to brunette and back again.
"Um...are we still talking about your stunt career?"
Elsie froze.
"Oh..."
Sam glanced at Lara. She'd nearly treaded on some tabooed subject, that much was obvious – but what?
The table had become cloaked in uncomfortable silence.
"Anyway, I've kept a few contacts in the filmmaking industry," resumed the Asian-American, determined to salvage the situation. "I have a friend at a production company that's looking for someone experienced in stuntwork, preferably female. So naturally I thought of you."
Elsie's shoulders sagged slightly with an odd mix of relief and disappointment. "Oh...well, that's real sweet of you, Sam, but my days in the business are behind me. The insurance people...they think I'm a liability, see."
Sam nodded. "I know, Lara explained it to me...but that's why this would be perfect for you, it's an assistant stunt coordinator position."
The blonde blinked. "Say again?"
"Assistant stunt coordinator. So, no physical required."
Elsie looked as though she'd just been struck by a stasis ray.
"Of course, that doesn't mean it's a guarantee," added Sam. "But, they are looking for someone with a minimum of five years' experience in the field, which I understand you have, so I put in a good word for you. Now you don't have to make a decision right away, the position doesn't become available until November anyway."
The blonde's blank expression hadn't wavered. Was she even breathing?
"Hello, Earth to Elsie..."
"Sorry," replied the blonde hoarsely. "I just...I figured that chapter of my life was over and done with."
"See, it doesn't have to be," said Sam, smiling. "Should I tell him you're interested?"
"Yes!" exclaimed the blonde, her voice strained with emotion. "Yes, I'm definitely interested!"
"Sam..."
"Oh!" added the filmmaker, "I should point out, there is one caveat."
"Two, actually," added Lara.
"Oh, right," amended Sam. "First, it's a full-time job."
Elsie's pale eyebrows rose.
"Full...time?"
Sam nodded. "I don't know how you feel about leaving your job at the book store, but -"
"Book gallery," interjected the archaeologist.
"Gallery, sorry," said the filmmaker, giving the brunette a sideways look. "And two...the job is based here in London."
Elsie slowly slouched back against the leatherette backrest.
"London," breathed the blonde, almost disbelievingly.
"There would be some travel, of course," explained the filmmaker. "But most of your time would be spent here in the UK."
Elsie and Lara exchanged a look.
"But...but how..."
"You could stay with us," said Sam, anticipating the blonde's question. "There's plenty of room at the Manor, and the commute wouldn't be too bad, so..."
Elsie fixed her gaze on the filmmaker. "You...you'd let me live with you?"
"Well of course!" replied the filmmaker brightly. "We're family, right?"
The blonde stared at Sam for several moments.
Then she burst into tears.