IN THE TIME WE HAVE, Chapter 12

Lara's arm was draped across Elsie's shoulders, the blonde straining under the load. It wasn't that the brunette was heavy, but the Englishwoman was leaning awkwardly against her companion, her legs having adopted the consistency of wet noodles.

Elsie could feel Lara's breath in her ear, the archaeologist having been gleefully burying her face in Elsie's cheek ever since they'd set out from the pub. Her friend reeked of alcohol, hardly surprising as she'd quaffed a good half dozen shots in between sampling several of Elsie's beers, having confiscated those she fancied – but what really surprised the blonde was the startling transformation in her friend's personality.

Gone was the serious, demure, adorable Lara; in her place a fun-loving, uninhibited doppelganger had materialized.

Okay, so she still shared the adorable quotient with her sober template, but other than that she could've been an alien from Tau Ceti for all she had in common with the Lara she knew.

"S'nice of you t'walk me home," breathed Lara into Elsie's ear before breaking into unprovoked giggles.

"Yeah, well," replied the American as she staggered back and forth in an effort to keep them both from toppling over, "I'm a sucker for hard luck cases…plus didn't want to see you try and swim back…"

"Heehee," giggled Lara, slipping clumsily as if to emphasize the blonde's point. "Hey, why'd we don' not get married?"

Elsie shook her head. "What? Geez, Lara, I'm gonna need a translator, your grammar's all over the place like a dog's breakfast – "

"Let's get married," said the brunette before planting a kiss on the American's cheek.

The blonde stopped in her tracks.

She looked at her companion disbelievingly. "God, you are sooo wasted," she declared.

"Unbou - undoob – undoubtedly," giggled the archaeologist. "Let's do it."

"Lara…you're nuts!"

"Thank you," breathed the brunette as she struggled to find Elsie's lips, planting a clumsy kiss on her nose instead.

The blonde shook her head and smiled. "C'mon, let's get you home," she said as she set off once more.

"Nooooo," lamented Lara, trying to pull her companion to a stop, but in her inebriated state managing little more than to shuffle her sideways. "Let's find so'place…ge' married right now…"

"Yeah, one of those twenty-four hour marriage places," chuckled the American, hauling her noodle-legged companion along. "In case you haven't noticed, we're not exactly in Vegas…and you are going to have the mother of all hangovers come morning."

"Come onnnnnn," pleaded the brunette, putting more of her weight onto her companion. "I love you, Elsie…"

That brought the blonde to a halt more decisively than any of Lara's ineffectual tugging.

With her free hand she brushed away the wild brown locks that were half obscuring the archaeologist's face. "Lara…that means so much," she said softly. "I just wish I didn't have to wait for you to be falling-down drunk to hear it…"

"I'm sorrryyyyyyy," said Lara as she began covering her friend with kisses.

"T'sokay!" laughed Elsie as she reeled under the barrage of pecks. "Really, it's fine - I love you too!"

The brunette paused her kissing onslaught.

She suddenly pulled back and looked sadly Elsie, all signs of inebriation having inexplicably evaporated.

The blonde gaped at her. "Uh, what gives…?"

"Elsie, why didn't you tell me?" asked the Englishwoman softly, brown eyes filled with sorrow.

The blonde shook her head. "Lara, you're not making any sense – tell you what?"

The archaeologist grimaced painfully. She seized Elsie's hand and held it up to her face.

It was dripping in blood.

Elsie stared at her bloodied fingers in wide-eyed disbelief. The crimson liquid extended down her arm like a long red latex glove.

She looked down. Her entire body was drenched in blood as though she'd just plunged into a bath full of the red liquid, Elizabeth Bathory-style. She drew in a sharp breath, horrified.

"Jeezus!"

Her eyes snapped open just as she shot up in a sitting position, her breathing ragged. The smell of alcohol persisted, though it now possessed a distinctly more clinical quality than that typically consumed.

Shit…

She was in a darkened room, sitting in what was obviously a hospital bed; her paper-thin gown and the faint lights on the medical panel over her bed were further confirmation of her present situation. She shuddered.

She hated hospitals.

She shook her hand through her hair. She felt light-headed, though at least measurably less so than she last remembered.

She took a few moments to piece together her last memories – she'd been bleeding heavily, fighting desperately to maintain consciousness.

A battle she was losing.

Her last vague awareness was of Lara scooping her up in her arms and setting off through the forest.

Impossible, she thought. I shouldn't be here. I can't be here.

And yet, she most assuredly was.

She swung her legs over the side of the bed and immediately winced at a burning twinge in her side.

That hadn't been a dream, at least – the pain just above her waist confirmed she'd most definitely been shot.

She pulled up her gown and examined the bandage wrapped around her lower torso; it was clean and white and professionally applied. Best of all, it exhibited no sign of seepage.

Relieved, she pulled the gown down, the movement eliciting a painful tug on her arm.

It was then she saw it – a long plastic tube connecting her forearm to an overhanging I.V. bag.

Needle!

She clawed at the tape frantically, managing to tear off the adhesive before pulling out the diabolic syringe, the plastic tube clanking loosely against the bed's steel frame.

She grasped the edge of the bed for stability as she fought to being her breathing under control. Shoulda figured…they always freaking stick you in here

A moment later she heard a subtle movement from within the room: the soft sound of rubbing fabric.

She slowly turned to look across the bed, taking care not to twist her torso excessively.

There, in the corner of the room, was a shadowy figure of a sleeping woman curled up in a chair.

Lara!

Elsie flopped down to the floor, bare feet pressing against cold linoleum as she scampered around the bed, ignoring the throbbing pain in her side.

She knelt before the chair, her knees pressing painfully against the hard floor. She gently brushed a few stray locks from the brunette's face, frowning at the young Englishwoman's appearance: her clothes were severely torn, her skin not faring much better, being liberally sprinkled with many crudely-applied bandages, almost as though the archaeologist had hurriedly slapped them on herself. Dark shadows under closed eyelids spoke of utter exhaustion.

Elsie desperately wanted to know how they'd come to be here - wherever 'here' was - but she was reluctant to wake her friend; the brunette obviously needed rest.

But why hadn't the brunette been properly cared for? Were there at least no other available beds?

She pushed herself up, wincing at the sharp pain in her side – it was going to take getting used to.

She opened the door and shuffled out into the deserted hallway. She followed the faint sounds of shuffling paper down the darkened corridor.

"Excuse me," said Elsie, tapping the counter of the nurse's duty station.

The young raven-haired nurse looked up to her in wide-eyed surprise.

"Whoa, what are you doing up?" she said as she scrambled to her feet and scurried around the counter. "And where's your I.V.?"

"I don't need it anymore," replied the blonde. "What's the story with my friend, why hasn't she been – hey, leggo!"

She pulled away from the nurse's grip.

"You have to get back to bed!" exclaimed the raven-haired woman. "You shouldn't be wandering around in your condition!"

"I'm fine!" protested Elsie. "Tell me what hap – "

"No, you're not," insisted the nurse. "Look, can you at least keep it down, please? It's not even two o'clock!"

"Fine," said the blonde, crossing her arms. "But my friend's in my room and she's an absolute mess, why haven't you – "

"Shhh," cringed the nurse, indicating a waiting area nearby that was relatively sheltered.

Elsie sighed and followed her to the room. She was about to let loose when the raven-haired woman pre-empted her.

"Your friend wouldn't let anyone treat her," explained the hospital worker. "She wouldn't leave your side, it was all we could do to keep her out of the O.R.. She was almost hysterical, really, but we finally compromised, we allowed her to stay in your room so long as we could treat her once you were out of danger. She finally drifted off a few hours ago."

"Well I think it's safe to say I'm out of danger now, right?" established Elsie. "And where am I, exactly?"

"You're at Charles Dean Memorial, in Greenville," replied the nurse. "And I'm not qualified to determine if you're out of danger, Miss Trainor – "

"Elsie."

"Elsie, fine. I don't think you realize just how bad your condition was when you were brought in here."

"Oh, I think I have an idea," said the blonde ominously. "To be honest I never expected I'd wake up from this..."

"Well you very nearly didn't," confirmed the nurse. "You'd lost an awful lot of blood, more than Doctor M'Banga thought was survivable, actually. Said your blood pressure was the lowest he'd ever seen someone live through."

A thought occurred to the American. "How long…?"

"Two days," said the raven-haired woman. "And we didn't think you'd be up and about this quickly, to be honest, which is why we have to get you hooked back up to your I.V."

Elsie shook her head vigorously – and quickly regretted it as a dull throbbing pain permeated her skull. She slapped her hand against the wall to keep her balance.

"See?"

Okay, so I'm not one hundred percent…point taken.

The nurse grabbed her elbow. "Come on, let's – "

"You're not hooking me back up to that thing," pronounced the American, jerking back. "Ain't gonna happen, don't even think about it, freaking needle of death – "

"Okay, okay!" said the nurse, throwing up her hands in defeat. "I'll let Dr. M'Banga try and talk some sense into you in the morning, but can you at least get back to bed?"

"Tell me how I got here," insisted the blonde.

The nurse huffed. "Do we have to do this now?" she asked. "I really need to get back to my station – "

"Just tell me," said Elsie. "And I'll go back to bed, I promise."

The nurse sighed, defeated. "Fine, just keep in mind I don't know the whole story," she clarified. "According to the paramedics, your friend carried you several miles through the backwoods until she was pulled over somewhere on the highway near Rockwood for speeding – "

"She was driving my car?"

"No idea," answered the raven-haired woman. "You'll have to ask her. Anyway, from there the cops called the paramedics and that's how you ended up here. By the way the police want to talk to you whenever you feel up to it, apparently they didn't get much out of your friend."

"Heh, not much point in that," mused Elsie more to herself. She looked back to the nurse. "So you're gonna take care of Lara now, right?"

"The moment she lets us, of course," said the hospital worker. "It's not like we didn't try…so that's her name, then? Lara? Frankly she's lucky we let her stay in your room at all - she categorically refused to identify herself, all we knew for sure was that she's English and obviously had your welfare at heart, aside from that…"

Elsie mulled over this information. Was Lara so paranoid as to fear being tracked down in a hospital? But then, the Trinity agents had showed up out of nowhere, hadn't they? Maybe paranoia wasn't exactly an overreaction…

The nurse jostled her from her contemplation.

"Now will you please go back to bed? I really have to get back on duty, I could get in trouble - "

The blonde sighed. "Okay, thanks for your time…"

Elsie shuffled back to her room and quietly closed the door behind her, slumping back against its cold surface as she gazed upon her friend curled up, fetal-like, in the corner chair.

"My God, Lara…" she whispered, astonished as to what it must have cost the brunette to perform the impossible.

She made her way to the corner and knelt once more before the chair. She could at least offer her a more comfortable sleeping arrangement.

She gently stroked Lara's cheek. "Hey girl," she said softly. "Come back to me, snookums…"

Lara's eyes fluttered open; the American drew in a sharp breath to see they were severely bloodshot.

"Elsie!" blurted Lara, quickly pulling the blonde into a hug. "Gods I thought I'd lost you!

"Nah," said the American, stroking the brunette's ponytail affectionately. "You won't get rid of me that easily, Lara Croft…you still owe me a book, after all."

The archaeologist was crying into her shoulder, the young woman's battered body heaving with sobs.

"Heyyy," said Elsie, nuzzling the brunette's ear, "I'm here, it's all good…and all thanks to you…"

"Thanks to me…you almost died," gasped the Englishwoman in between bouts of weeping, her nails digging painfully into the blonde's back. "Thought I was…too late…"

Elsie drew back and cradled Lara's face in her hands. "Don't you dare go down that road," she said imploringly. "Don't you dare, Lara."

A pained expression. "If I'd just listened to you – "

"Those dudes would still have been waiting for us at the car," interjected the blonde.

The archaeologist drew a sharp breath. The sobs slowed, gradually replaced by a pained breathing. She slowly drew back and looked at her friend.

"I…didn't think about that," she said in a whisper.

"And without that tomb we wouldn't have had any bargaining power," underlined Elsie. "We'd most likely both be rotting in a ditch somewhere by now…actually it's only thanks to that thing that we're still alive and kicking…well, maybe not so much the kicking part..."

Lara slowly shook her head, her brown-red eyes filled with wonder.

"How do you always manage to find the positive in everything?" she asked softly.

"Same reason you always find the negative," replied the American, smiling. "I swear you are your own worst enemy sometimes, Lara…"

The brunette swallowed. "Point taken," she said softly. "I guess…you're the Yang to my Yin…"

Elsie raised an eyebrow. "Actually, they do kinda spoon each other, don't they?"

"I…er…suppose?"

"Come on," said Elsie, grinning as got to her feet, ignoring the blazing fire in her side as she pulled the brunette up by the hand.

"What are you doing?" asked Lara as the blonde slipped under the bed's covers, still clutching the archaeologist's wrist.

"Come on, silly," said the American, holding up the blanket to allow the Englishwoman easy ingress.

Lara looked aghast. "Elsie….not here!"

"Why not?"

"It's a bloody hospital!"

"So? A perfect place to give and receive comfort then, right?"

"But…I'm filthy!"

"They clean the sheets either way," said the blonde.

"If they catch us – "

"We'll be chastised," deadpanned the blonde. "Oh, the horror."

"You're completely barmy!"

She tugged on the brunette's wrist. "Come onnnn," she pleaded. "You're going back home tomorrow, this is all the time we have…"

"Elsie, you've been shot!" said Lara. "Bugger, did you really think I'd just pack up and leave?"

The American blinked, a warmth surging through her chest. "Lara…what are you saying?"

"I called Sam," explained the brunette. "She freaked when I told her about what happened to you…I told her I'd be extending my stay for a few days…"

The blonde gaped at her friend, hardly daring to believe –

"I mean, if it's all right with you," amended Lara quickly.

Elsie's view of Lara blurred over. A tear trickled down her cheek.

She pulled on the brunette's wrist with all the strength she could muster.

The archaeologist squeaked in surprise as she toppled over onto the bed.

"C'mere!" squealed the blonde as she cocooned the Englishwoman, entwining limbs and pressing her body into her friend's in a desperate effort to physically merge with the brunette. "God I love you!"

"Hmpfh – " replied Lara as Elsie smothered the brunette's mouth in a loving embrace.

The American's heart was near bursting: it was Christmas, Thanksgiving and her birthday all rolled into one, topped with whipped cream and cherries. It had almost been worth getting shot.

The nervousness in the archaeologist's body began to dissipate, her apprehension at being caught in bed with a wounded patient slowly ebbing under Elsie's tender ministrations.

Elsie's head began swimming just as her tongue wrapped itself around Lara's; the lingering effects of blood loss combined with soaring passion was proving too much.

Dammit, no…

But her body would have none of it.

She disengaged.

"Sorry…" she said earnestly. "That's totally me…"

Lara shook her head. "Don't be…Elsie, you've been running on adrenaline," she said. "Did you really think you could just shrug off what you've been through?"

"You did," countered the American. "God knows what you went through getting me here…"

"Yes, well," said Lara, lightly tracing the tip of her finger down Elsie's nose, "I was…sufficiently motivated."

An alarming thought occurred to the blonde. "Lara…please tell me you've had something to eat…?"

A shrug.

"Jeesus," swore Elsie, "You've had nothing since those Trinity goons showed up, what was that, four days ago now?"

"I didn't think…I'd be able to keep it down," said the brunette, looking downcast. "Not with you hanging by a thread…"

"Oh, girl," lamented the blonde, running her fingers through her friend's messy fringe. "Don't fall into that trap, my God…you should go get something to eat right now, there must be vending mach - "

"I'll have a bite in the morning," said the archaeologist dismissively.

"Lara, you're starving!"

"So are you," returned the brunette.

"Yeah, well I'm an old ha- "

She cut off.

"What?" asked Lara.

Elsie quickly swept the old memories back into the dusty mental cupboards. "Point is," she continued slowly, "I wasn't the one who carried someone through miles of wilderness for an entire night without stopping...and all that without food…seriously, Lara, you look terrible. Gorgeous, but terrible."

The Englishwoman smiled slightly. "I didn't claim I wasn't knackered," she admitted.

"Exhausted, more like," continued the blonde. "And sore I bet, God knows what those bastards did to your back - "

"It's fine."

"Bullshit," countered Elsie. "I heard that scream."

She entwined her hand with the brunette's.

"Lara…promise me you're gonna let them treat you, okay?" she asked. "They told me you weren't exactly….cooperative."

A sigh.

"Promise me, Lara."

"Fine," conceded Lara reluctantly.

"Thank you," said Elsie. "And at breakfast we're both going to whatever doubles as the cafeteria around here and stuff our faces, okay?"

Lara smiled genuinely at that. "That sounds...lovely."

"Bangers and mash," smiled the blonde seductively. "Beans on toast…black pudding…cottage pie…Welsh rabbit…"

"Okay, someone's been looking up English cuisine," returned the archaeologist. "And I seriously doubt they'll have any of that in here, never mind for breakfast…."

"…kippers….fish and chips…"

"You little bugger, you're making it worse!"

"Tell you what," laughed Elsie, squeezing the brunette's hand, "When we get home I'll make you whatever English dish you like, 'kay?"

Lara's eyebrows shot up.

"Even haggis?"

"Ugh," replied Elsie, rolling her eyes. "Yes, even haggis…"