IN THE TIME WE HAVE, Epilogue
SIX MONTHS LATER
Lara gently unfurled the ancient tapestry onto her desk, being careful to avoid damaging the timeworn artifact. It was exactly as Jonah had described: roughly a foot square, heavily tattered around the edges, but clearly a map to something significant. Marrakesh had not been a bust, after all.
"I can't make out any words," said Sam as she leaned over Lara's shoulder. "How can you know where it leads if you can't even tell where it starts?"
Lara slouched back slightly in her chair. "That's the rub, isn't it?" she admitted. "But if we take this to the university and have the material analyzed, they might be able to give us at least a generalized idea where it was made."
"And if they come back with something like 'Continent of Asia'…?"
Lara smiled. "Well then, we'll have eliminated six of the seven possibilities, won't we?"
"Sure," said the Asian-American, squeezing her companion's shoulder affectionately. "It'll be a cinch."
The doorbell rang.
They both glanced at the time. "I'll get that, guess Kaz is early," muttered Sam, playfully tugging the brunette's ponytail before drawing off.
Lara continued to study the ancient map, her curiosity growing. She would find where the arcane document lead, regardless of the seemingly insurmountable challenge it currently presented.
Her eyes drifted to her phone. She grasped the device and checked her messages for the third time that afternoon.
Nothing since the day before, when Elsie had sent her a single heart emoticon via instant messaging. Lara had tried calling and texting her American friend several times since but had received no response.
"Uh, Lara?"
She swiveled in her in chair to see a visibly nervous Sam standing at the doorway.
"There's a man at the door," continued the Asian-American. "He's asking for you."
Lara carefully hid the map in the desk drawer and got to her feet. "Who?"
"Ah…oops," said Sam sheepishly. "I didn't think to ask…he sort of creeps me out, Lara."
The archaeologist blinked. "What do you mean?"
The Asian-American shrugged. "He kinda has a Boris Karloff thing going on," she clarified. "Anyway, he doesn't look too happy about something…"
Lara opened the desk's bottom drawer and withdrew her pistol.
"Oh, no," said Sam, waving her hands frantically. "Nothing like that, he's an old guy, Lara, he's not somebody's hitman if that's what you're worried about. He's polite and all, he's just…intimidating. Sounds like a local, too."
The archaeologist reluctantly slipped the pistol back into its drawer; she didn't like being unarmed when dealing with unexpected strangers at her door, but she would trust Sam's judgement on the matter.
She approached the landing and froze.
She recognized the man standing in the open doorway.
Nathan Fletcher. Proprietor of the Paddington Book Gallery of Portland. Here in London.
And he was looking positively grim.
Lara's spine turned ice cold. She could think of only one reason for his presence.
No...
"What's happened?" she asked pointedly, her alarm precluding all thoughts of civility.
The old man drew forward and held out an envelope.
"I'm very sorry, Miss Croft," said Fletcher sadly.
Lara eyed the envelope with an almost overpowering dread.
"No," she said as she held her hands up and took a halting step back, her emotions bubbling up dangerously. "No…no, it can't be…she can't be…it's not possible…"
Fletcher looked at her with sympathetic eyes. "I truly wish it wasn't, Miss Croft."
"Lara…?" asked Sam cautiously from behind. "What's going on?"
The archaeologist was breathing deeply. It felt as though someone had just driven a serrated dagger through her heart.
Her trembling fingers reached for the envelope; she'd half-convinced herself that if she didn't touch the document whatever contained therein might not come to pass.
But she knew full well the universe didn't work that way.
She took the envelope from Fletcher's hand. She was fighting desperately to maintain her composure, but it was a rapidly losing battle.
"Sir," she croaked, "When…how…?"
The old man sighed.
"I regret that Miss Trainor was diagnosed with cancer some six months ago –"
"Oh my God!" blurted Sam in horrified realization.
"She underwent treatment, of course," continued the book gallery director. "But in the end…it was too much for her heart, I'm afraid."
Lara squeezed her eyes shut; she felt Sam's hand on her shoulder.
Hold it together, Lara, just a few moments more…
She took a deep breath and forced her eyes open, tears streaming down her face despite her best efforts. "She…never mentioned anything…"
The old man nodded solemnly. "Miss Trainor's health…was never strong, Miss Croft," he explained. "As I understand it, she may have stood a fair chance had her condition been detected earlier…however, Miss Trainor had an unfortunate aversion to hospitals…"
"Sir," continued Lara painfully. "I have to ask…when…when did it hap -"
She choked on the last word.
"Yesterday morning," replied Fletcher. "Shortly before ten o'clock…I'm afraid I don't have the precise time…"
Lara nodded silently, her jaw clenched tightly shut.
The old man indicated the envelope in her hand. "She asked that I deliver the contents therein to you."
"Thank you," gasped Lara.
"You have my sincerest condolences, Miss Croft."
Thank you, mouthed Lara silently, nodding.
And with that, the old man was gone.
Lara turned to find Sam standing before her, wide-eyed in shock.
"My God, Lara," she whispered. "I'm so very sorry…"
"Thanks, Sam," replied the archaeologist hoarsely with a pained smile. "But I need to be alone right now…"
"Sure, sweetie," said the filmmaker, stroking her friend's back soothingly. "I'll just hang out in the kitchen…I'll be right here if you need me, okay?"
Lara made her way to the study; her body felt strangely muted, almost as though the air was comprised of soundproof fog.
It can't be, she told herself disbelievingly, still in shock. She'd spoken to the blonde only weeks before and the girl had been fine.
Or at least, so Elsie had led her to believe.
And then there was that instant message from the previous day.
She sat down gingerly at her desk. She remained there, unmoving, for several minutes, dreading to open the envelope: she knew that to absorb its contents would force her to acknowledge that which her heart could not bear to endure. But she had to face the truth, regardless of the pain it caused. She was entirely too used to that.
With trembling hands Lara opened the envelope and unfolded the letter therein, wiping her eyes as she began to read.
Dearest Lara,
I know what you're thinking. Please don't be mad at me.
I didn't tell you because I didn't want you to remember me this way. I'd be much happier with you remembering me as I was. As we were.
They were the happiest times of my life.
Well, take away the getting shot bit, and…yeah. But the rest? I wouldn't trade it for anything.
Do you remember when we first met? You threw up lol – glad it wasn't indicative of our future friendship, huh!
Needless to say, I've had lots of time over the last few weeks to think about what happens to us after we go; I guess you could say I've been a little preoccupied with the subject of life after death – it's not like I had much else to do in this freaking place.
I don't know what will happen when the time comes, but something you said once stuck with me: that there are things out there that we aren't meant to understand, mysteries that defy all attempts at rational explanation. That brought me so much comfort these last few weeks, Lara, you have no idea. I thought you might like to know that.
Maybe that quest of yours for the secret of immortality is all for naught, huh? Maybe it's inherent in all of us already…if so, I'll save you a seat. We're gonna have so much fun, girl…
In the meantime, I'll ask you to do yourself a favour: take good care of Sam. If she's stuck with you all this time, with the lifestyle you lead, then she loves you more than I thought humanly possible. It'll make me feel so much better knowing there's someone out there that cares for you that much, because you so deserve that in your life, girl. Treasure her, Lara, because she sure as hell treasures you. Don't let Lara Croft drift away from those that love her.
I wish I didn't have to but I'm going to have to cut this short…I've been going at this for the last couple of days and I don't know how many I have left, and the last thing I'd want you to read is a half-finished letter. I get tired so easily these days.
I had a good life, Lara. I know it might not seem like it sometimes, but I really did.
I met you.
What else needs be said?
Lara, I love you more than life. And I will beyond it.
Goodbye my friend
Elsie
Lara slouched back in her chair. The volcanic bubbling of emotions could no longer be contained.
Her trembling hand reached for her phone.
She checked the last message she'd received from Elsie, the simple heart emoticon.
2:49 PM.
She did the math.
9:49 AM, Maine time.
Oh, God…
She threw her head back and let loose a scream from the depths of her soul that threatened to shred her vocal chords.
Within moments Sam's comforting arms were around her, cradling her protectively as Lara continued to erupt in unrestrained anguish.
"Sam…she's gone!"
"I know," said the Asian-American softly, pressing her cheek to her companion's. "I'm so sorry, sweetie…"
"She was an angel, Sam…an angel!"
A gentle kiss pressed to her cheekbone.
"I'll wager she still is, Lara," whispered the filmmaker. "I'll wager she still is…"
-oOo-
Sam waited by the hall's entrance while Lara said her goodbyes to the family. All, that is, except for Elsie's father, who had wandered off somewhere at some point during the post-funeral reception. That particular detail relieved Sam, at least. There was something off-putting about the man; maybe it had to do with the way he kept ogling Lara during the services, or maybe it was the disinterest Sam kept sensing regarding his daughter's passing. Everyone else had been in tears while he'd kept glancing at his watch as though worried he might miss the afternoon football game.
She'd genuinely hoped her impressions about the man had been misplaced, but his disappearance from the post-funeral reception had sealed it for her.
Of course she hadn't voiced any of this to Lara, out of respect for her friend's grieving. But there had been a decidedly awkward moment earlier that afternoon: the moment they'd been introduced to Elsie's father. The archaeologist's demeanour was visibly icy, even though the casual observer would likely not have noticed. But Sam knew her Lara well, and could read the subtle shifts in the young woman's body language: the Englishwoman's profession of sympathy to the man had been clipped and short, entirely different from the heartfelt words she'd expressed to the rest of Elsie's family, the handshake likewise light and brief. Of course the man had been unabashedly undressing Lara with his eyes since their arrival, so she could hardly blame her friend's iciness.
The archaeologist was striding down the hall towards her; her friend's countenance was one of emotional exhaustion.
"Hey," said Sam sweetly as she cradled an arm around her companion's shoulders. "You okay, sweetie? You know what, forget I said that – stupid question."
Lara smiled tiredly at the filmmaker. "It's okay, Sam," she said. "Thanks for coming with me…I know it couldn't have been easy for you…"
"She meant a lot to you, sweetie," returned the Asian-American. "Which means she meant a lot to me, too."
"Thanks, Sam," replied Lara softly.
"Come on," said the filmmaker. "Let's get you home…"
They'd almost made it to their rental when Lara stopped in her tracks.
"Lara? Did you forget something?"
Sam traced back her companion's gaze to a man talking on a cell phone near the facility's wine room. And speaking with an all too jovial tone, especially considering he'd just buried his own daughter.
Oh shit, not him, thought the filmmaker.
"Wait here, Sam," said the archaeologist.
"Lara, wait," interjected the Asian-American. "Babe, you know I don't want to say anything bad about Elsie's family, but…you don't have to say anything to him. He just…doesn't care. I know that's an awful thing to say, but -"
"I know he doesn't," returned the Englishwoman. "Which is why I'd like a private word."
"Sweetie, you don't have to do this," said Sam. "Just forget about him –"
"I can't, Sam," replied Lara darkly.
The Asian-American blinked. "Lara, what's wrong?"
"Just…wait here," repeated the archaeologist forcefully. "Please…I have to do this…"
"But…oh…fine then…"
Sam watched as her companion approached Elsie's father, flinching in disgust at the look in the man's eyes once he caught sight the archaeologist. He quickly pocketed his phone and openly leered at the Englishwoman.
But what truly astonished Sam was Lara's own deportment; far from being cold and distant, she seemed to be chatting amicably with the man. Even…
Oh my God, thought Sam, is she…actually coming on to him? Lara, what the fuck?!
The archaeologist opened the door to the wine room, and they disappeared within.
Sam's stomach churned.
There's a method to her madness, she told herself desperately. There has to be…
-oOo-
George couldn't believe his turn of luck. Having to waste half a day at a stinking funeral had been bad enough, never mind the rental of a suit, but he'd entirely forgotten to set his PVR.
But now, his fortunes had finally turned for the better – the gorgeous English brunette he'd been eyeing throughout the day's services was here.
And best of all - she was loose!
The lights fluttered to life as he strode into the wine room, the walls of the small stone building lined with dusty racks containing an assortment of spirits.
The brunette closed the door behind them.
His ears detected the sound of a lock being turned.
"Good idea," he said, grinning. "We wouldn't want to be interrupted now, would we?"
The Englishwoman slowly turned to him, her face strangely devoid of emotion.
"No," she said in agreement. "We wouldn't want that…"
She gazed at the nearest selection of wines and selected a bottle.
"Pinot Noir," she said softly, perusing the label. "I wonder if 2007 was a good year…"
"Only one way to find out," chuckled George.
The brunette seemed to muse something for a moment, before flipping the bottle around in her hands and gripping it by the neck.
She smashed the vintage against the wall, shattering the bottle's lower half.
"Whoa, careful!" said George, pointing to the splatter of glass and wine on the floor. "I'm not cleaning up that shit…"
The young woman slowly turned to look at him – there was a fire in her eyes that he found unsettling.
"No, I don't expect you will," she said ominously.
She took a step toward him, holding the neck of the partly-shattered bottle at her side.
"But you needn't concern yourself," continued the brunette with unnerving coldness. "I expect the coroners will have a dedicated cleanup crew…"
-oOo-
Sam hadn't been sitting on the steps of the reception hall five minutes when she saw Lara making her way back down the gravel path, wiping her hands with what looked to be a man's handkerchief. The filmmaker scrambled back to her feet.
"Well, that was quick," said the Asian-American, relieved. "I was hoping that flirting bit was just an act…gave him a piece of your mind, did you?"
"In a manner of speaking," said the archaeologist, whose cheeks Sam noted were slightly flushed.
"Oh my God," said Sam, cupping her hand over her mouth. "You totally belted him…didn't you?"
Lara sighed and grasped her companion's hands.
"Trust me, Sam," she said softly, looking into the filmmaker's eyes. "He got what was coming to him…and that's as much as I'll ever say on the matter."
The filmmaker swallowed her lower lip.
But she trusted her friend implicitly. Whatever she'd done.
"Okay," she finally breathed. "End of story then."
"Thank you," said Lara.
The archaeologist slipped an arm around her companion's waist as they slowly made their way back down the path to their rental car.
"Sam…let's go somewhere," said Lara as the Asian-American returned her friend's embrace.
The filmmaker did a double take. "Sure, sweetie, but we're still waiting for the Tibet permits…not to mention we haven't figured out where that map of yours even starts, and those are your only leads at the moment –"
"I don't mean that," returned the Englishwoman. "Let's just…go somewhere…wherever the road takes us…"
Sam stopped, her companion likewise lurching to a halt as a consequence of the arm around her midsection.
The Asian-American could hardly believe her ears.
"You mean…just for fun?"
"Yes, Sam," replied Lara earnestly. "Let's go have fun…"
Sam's eyes were welling with tears. "Oh, babe…it'd be just like old times…"
The archaeologist drew close, lightly brushing away Sam's fringe.
"Let's make some new times," said Lara softly, her beautiful brown eyes searching her companion's. "I really should start appreciating the present a little more…"
Their lips connected. Sam was both astonished and ecstatic - Lara wasn't one to kiss in public unless she'd had a few drinks in her. Not that she was complaining, mind you.
The Englishwoman slowly drew back and smiled.
"Come on, Sam," she said as they started down the path once more. "Let's blow this popsicle stand…"
