A/N: This is a gapfiller for Tomb Raider 2 (movie). We see Hillary and Bryce drop Terry off at the Cradle of Life, and the next time we see them, they're back at the village getting made up for their own wedding.
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Under any other circumstances, seeing the back of Terry Sheridan would have made Hillary breathe a sigh of relief. Being stuck in a helicopter on a strange mountain in Africa with Bryce at the controls could not be said to be the most relaxing of circumstances, however. Hillary was having trouble breathing at all, let alone breathing a sigh of relief. He was exhausted, filthy, and desperate for a shower and a shave.
"Two hours," he yelled over the noise of the helicopter. He grabbed the back of the chair next to Bryce, hauled himself forward and into it, and strapped himself in tightly. Bryce, looking slightly lost in the pilot's seat, glanced over. "You have had two hours of flight time in an actual helicopter, and I'm trusting my life to your flying skills. I must be mad. I am mad."
"Well," Bryce yelled back, "two hours, more or less..."
"More or less?" Hillary tried unsuccessfully to keep a high note of panic out of his voice. "Bryce, how much actual flying time have you had in an actual helicopter, actually?"
"Er - none, really. I've been meanin' to..."
Hillary started to fumble with his seatbelt. "That's it. I'm taking the Terry way out."
"He took the only rappel cinch..."
"I'll slide."
"And the only rope..."
"I'll jump." Hillary's hands flew off of the buckle and gripped the sides of the seat tightly as the chopper yawed stomach-churningly to the right.
"Aw, trust me, mate. I'll get you back in one piece."
"It's going to be one rather soggy and unidentifiable piece, at this rate," Hillary said, looking nervously out of the windscreen as they straightened out. His hands were now locked in place on either side of the seat as the helicopter rocketed through the blue mist. After a few minutes, the view began to change, and Hillary could not decide if it had changed for the better or for the worse. On one hand, they were starting to emerge from the unnatural fog that veiled the top of the mountain, and the sun was breaking through. On the other hand, that just meant he had a better view of the treetops that whipped by, not nearly far enough below them.
"He had a nice bum on him, though, din' he?"
Hillary turned to Bryce. "What?"
"That Terry bloke. Nice bum."
"Yes," Hillary yelled back with distaste. "Too bad it's on top of his shoulders."
"Aww, you're just bein' catty. It was a perfectly nice bum."
"Bryce, can we talk about something other than that... blackguard's rear end?" Hillary felt that his mouth was planted in a thin, hard line, and knew that he looked ridiculous like that, but he could not help it.
Bryce was grinning, now. "Fit, that one. When a bloke is all muscled like that, his bum is just so pert, ya know? Punchin' out his pants..." One skinny hand was gesturing a general shape, now. Hillary tried to burn a hole in Bryce's ear by glaring, but that only seemed to amuse the man more. "Are you tellin' me you weren't lookin? Do you have a pulse? It were just a reallllly good..."
The helicopter bumped and shuddered. The engine started to spin down. Hillary looked back out of the windscreen, and saw that Bryce had set the helicopter back down in the clearing they had departed from; two other empty choppers sat nearby.
"Yeh seemed nervous, so I thought I'd distract you from the landin'." If Bryce's grin got any wider, his head would fall off. Hillary unbuckled himself and stormed out of the helicopter, still tightlipped. He stepped out onto dry, dusty ground that crunched underfoot and paused to get his bearings.
He heard Bryce come stumbling out after him, and felt a lean hand grab his left buttock. "Hey, man - I didn't even notice his bum. Just yours." The hand squeezed. Hillary turned to face Bryce, who was looking slightly abashed.
"I'm mollified," said Hillary. "Now, how's your Swahili?"
Bryce looked confused for a moment, and then spotted the small group of stony-faced tribespeople standing at the edge of the clearing, staring levelly at the helicopter.
"Ah. I don't speak a word. You?"
"If one of them sticks a spear in me, I can tell him, 'Thank you.'"
A broad-shouldered man, bare to the waist and carrying a long spear, walked towards them. He stopped a conversational distance away, and spoke in a language neither of them understood. Hillary gave an exaggerated shrug. The broad-shouldered man jerked his head up towards the mist-shrouded mountain peak. Hillary nodded, then spread his empty hands. The tribesman looked them both over with caution, circling them slowly. He returned to his former position, apparently satisfied, and called out something to the people standing back at the edge of the clearing. The group started to talk among themselves. Bryce grabbed Hillary's arm nervously.
"I think they know we're friendly..." Hillary said quietly.
"Jus' as long as they don't think we're tasty, as well."
A small woman in flowing red robes, her hair elaborately braided, broke off from the group and ran towards them, grinning and speaking quickly. She took their arms in her hands and tugged, as if to lead them.
"Guess it's time to make new friends," Bryce said as they followed her down a dirt path, more giggling women falling in with the two of them and their guide.