It's finally here! :D

Once again, I do sincerely apologize from the bottom of my heart for keeping you guys waiting. I also regret to inform you that this chapter is nearly half the length of the last chapter. But, don't fret - this is not the end of Alexara! :) Be on the lookout for my next, longer Alexara fic, 'When Pigs Fly'.

P.S.; I recommend listening to Thunder by Boyslikegirls as an accessory, if you will, to this chapter. I can't quite place why, but it seems pretty fitting. Probably because of the weather in this chapter relating to the title of the song. Or something else. I'll let you be the judge of that. -wink-

With that said, enjoy!

I can't hold on, I can't hold on.

But I can't let go, I can't let go.

Not yet.

Don't look down. Just close your eyes, and drop as soon as you feel low enough.

Every little thing Alex says to himself is hushed, a silent mantra on his lips to soothe the throbbing pain, to chase away the guilt and the fear. It works, sometimes.

But there are some instances where he just can't seem to handle it, like when he shot a man who fell to his death over a wooden railing, engulfed by the raging inferno. That was just seconds before. It's kill or be killed, and he knows that. That knowledge doesn't necessarily make him feel better, though.

He lacks the righteousness a first-person shooter player would have after gunning each of their enemies down. He lacks the feeling of accomplishment, lacks the triumphance. And he lacks clarity in his emotions. He's scared, but the fearsome incline of his brows with each shot he fires betray bravery; and he's guilty for killing these men, but he knows they deserved what was coming.

They were maniacs. Some of them were lobbing fucking molotov cocktails at them. There was one instance where Lara was too occupied with killing the bowmen, that she didn't notice one coming right at her. Alex saw it just in time, though, and pulled her out of the way with his bad arm, keeping her crouched behind a crate and firing a few shots at the asshole who threw it. She stared at him longer than she's ever had before - but with what, Alex simply couldn't place. Admiration? Respect? Gratefulness? Surprise? He was leaning on the latter - even he was surprised his reflexes were that quick.

She appeared as though she wanted to say something, but Alex wasn't looking at her. He was still shooting at the enemies from behind the crate.

"Thank me later." He had said, quickly taking cover before a bowman could release his arrow, and blindly sending a few shots his way. At the third shot, he was met with a loud groan instead of an arrowhead.

Lara must've thought he was brave. She must've been grateful for him saving her life. And he must've sounded like James Bond, or something. (He wished.) But he was just as scared as she was.

His emotions don't matter now, though, and neither does his still-aching injury. He has to focus on finding Roth, and finding a way out of here. He has to keep moving. He can't let these things stop him, because they wouldn't stop Lara.

He doesn't know how the hell she does it. She's made her first kill less than a half-hour ago, and, yet, her face couldn't be any more stoic. She didn't look green in the face at all, after stepping over the bodies she had killed. She even performed her stealth kills in the belly of the temple without a moment's hesitation, something Alex couldn't even begin to do without at least being properly trained. And, as far as he knew, no archeology buffs got trained to deliver stealth kills with a bow.

He, himself, obviously didn't train for his first kill, which was most likely why it didn't work at first, but that was probably because he didn't have a bow at his disposal, like Lara did.

But, even if he did, he'd never think to simply hook it around someone's neck and choke them with it. He'd probably just use it to do what it was made to do, and it probably would've hurt so much less. With a bow, you wouldn't have to be so close to your victim that you'd feel them struggle and writhe under every single move you made. You wouldn't have to feel the guttural noises in their throats just as clearly as you'd hear them, and you wouldn't have to feel them start as you plunged an axe into their gut.

Time to drop.

He unhooks his axe blade from the rope as soon as he nears the torii, letting both his hands fall free, and his feet hit the moist grass. He's reeling for a few more seconds than he'd like, and his feet have decided to join the aching party, but he doesn't bother looking back at the burning temple.

Just keep moving.

Lara's walking in front of him, her skin glossy from the rain, and her clothes a much deeper shade. The blotch of blood just above her..posterior that was once a prominent scarlet is now a brownish burgundy, and Alex stupidly wonders if it still hurts. He's not going to ask her that, though, because that would be even stupider.

They jog up a few stone staircases, lanterns to their right illuminating their path, until they reach a narrow crevice in a cliff wall. Lara stops in the middle of the crevice, then looks up, assessing its height.

Oh, hell no. She isn't really considering.. She is.

She looks back at Alex. "We have to climb this." She says quietly, apology clouding her eyes.

This obviously isn't going to be a walk in the park to climb. Alex couldn't even climb the jungle gym as a kid without losing his grip, and now he has to climb this - in the pouring rain. And with an aching arm.

He might as well let Lara go without him.

He says so with a light chuckle, as he's always trying to lighten the mood, but Lara just looks even more worried. "Alex, don't say that. I'm not going anywhere without you."

Alex gulps. That sounds a lot different in his head. But he's not going to flatter himself.

"Alright," He says, sighing. "But you go first. I don't want to crush you if I lose my grip. Then, we'd both be unable to climb, and that would suck."

"You'd also be hurt pretty badly if you fell, though." Lara pointed out.

Alex tipped his head and shrugged a shoulder, considering her statement. "But, hey, it's better for only one of us to be badly injured than the both of us, no?"

"I guess." She mumbles hesitantly, after a long pause. She knew he was right, but she just hated how he was so selfless to a point where he had little to no regards for his own safety. Yet, at the same time, she valued it, and it made her respect him - made her see him as something more than just the geeky technician with eccentric conspiracy theories.

She places one hand at the juncture of two rocks, lifts her left leg to meet it, and then moves both of her hands to the rock wall behind her to steady herself. Slowly, but surely, she begins to shimmy upwards, stopping and shielding herself with her left arm as a few rocks cascade past her.

Alex grew worried. He doesn't want her to get hit, but there's nothing he can do except stand here and hope that she won't. He hates feeling useless.

She continues, much to Alex's distress. He would've already given up by now, had he been in her shoes. Or at least shit his pants. Probably both. But although he feared for her, he was still rooting for her through and through. He always would.

Then she sees her slip, and his heart gallops at a pace akin to a hummingbird's fluttering wings. However, he makes an effort to keep the worry out of his voice. "Are you okay?"

"Yeah," She calls, panting. "Just.. a bit slippery."

He chuckles uneasily. "Careful, now."

She nods, continuing to ease up the crevice, even as it gets tighter and narrower, and Alex can no longer see her from where he is standing. He cranes his head to the side in an attempt to catch sight of her, but sees nothing. Then, he hears her voice from above, seemingly clear as crystal over the rumble of the thunder.

"Alright, Alex. Come on up."

He's more than happy to hear that she made it (even though he has no idea what she's waiting for him on), but the prospect of climbing this thing is now beginning to settle in his stomach like chunks of lead. Not even Lara could make it up there without slipping, or being narrowly missed by a bunch of falling rocks. Narrowly.

If Lara can't, there's no way in hell Alex can. Shit, there's probably more of a possibility of him walking away from this island (if he does at all) with Lara on his arm, than him making it up there.

But he's gonna try. Ain't no harm (with the exception of probably a broken back, neck, or butt) in trying.

You can do this, Weiss. This is significantly less scarier than rock climbing, and you did it - well, you pissed your pants while doing it - in the 5th grade, so you can definitely do this. Even with a fucked up arm.

He attempts to emulate the position in which Lara was in; hand on juncture, leg raised to meet it, hands moved to the wall at his back - okay, seems tight enough to hold him.

Here goes nothing.

He shimmies upward, the wall surprisingly firm and not as slippery as he had initially feared. Still, he wills himself to not look down, because, not only will he stop and lose his grip, his glasses will tumble to the ground. If his legs weren't currently occupied, he would've kicked himself for forgetting to take them off.

After a while, despite the protesting cramps in his arm, he finds that this is relatively easy to climb, thanks to the support and added balance the walls at his back and his feet give him. He practically doesn't need his arm - and he feels the amount of throbbing decrease considerably, as if it's relieved it's finally being given a break. It sure isn't the only one.

That break is short-lived when his leg slips, unable to hook onto the next juncture in the wall. Now, he looks down.

Tiny pebbles and clouds of dirt fall to the ground from where his foot was displaced, alleviating the minute amount of faith he had in this God-forsaken wall. He's gotta be at least twelve feet high in spite of the slight fall, which makes him feel nauseous. However, he's just arriving at the curve of the crevice - he can't possibly stop now.

Just a little farther. Come on, you can do this.

Lara, God bless her, calls from above like a beacon of hope, obviously hearing him slip. "Are you alright?" Unlike Alex, she welcomes the worry in her tone.

"Yeah," He says with a weary smile. "I'm not dead, so I'm okay." He doesn't hear her chuckle. Perhaps he's still too far down.

"Well, come on. I'll pull you up." She sounds urgent, but not impatient - urgent in a worried way. Like a you-better-get-up-here-soon-or-I-won't-have-any-nails-left-after-this way. Not that Lara would be the type to worry about nails - but you get the point.

He's crammed so tightly in the next part of the crevice, that he can feel the warmth of his own breath ricocheting off the opposite wall. But at least there's even more support this way.

Thankfully, it doesn't take too much more climbing for him to see fingertips resting on what seems to be a plank platform, obviously Lara's. Once she sees him, she smiles and steps back, preparing herself to pull him up.

"Are you sure you're capable of doing this?" Alex wonders aloud, climbing a little higher so that he can reach the platform, grunting as he does so. "I mean, I'm not trying to underestimate your strength, but.. I'm a bit on the chubby side." His lips split into a crooked grin, his elbows resting on the platform.

Lara giggles, her cheeks flaring red at his unusually, dare she think it, handsome smile as she offers her hands. "Don't be ridiculous. You haven't eaten since God knows when."

"Oh, God, don't remind me," He groans, throwing his hands in Lara's. "I miss Jonah's cooking."

"Me, too. Let's hope we can find him, soon." She says wistfully, closing her hands around Alex's and pulling him up, being mindful of his injury.

He grits his teeth, using his legs to push himself onto the platform so that Lara won't have to bear all his weight, and so she won't accidentally pull too hard on his bad arm. She's not the klutzy type, but, hey, you can never be too careful.

They don't know why, but they're laughing like idiots as soon as Alex joins her on the platform, and they don't even realize their hands are still very much intertwined. Until the laughter dies out.

In the silence, time seems to stand still - the streams of rain from the wooden beams above them halt abruptly, and they're left to their thoughts, the thoughts that had seemed to escape them just seconds ago.

Did Lara seriously acknowledge Alex's smile as handsome?

No matter how much the question made her blush, she couldn't possibly deny it. He was good-looking, she'll give him that. But that's it. Nothing less, nothing more.

Alex, on the other hand, is two steps away from becoming a makeshift stovetop. Heat blossoms from his cheeks, to his arms, to his hands, and, oh, God, Lara's skin is still fucking glowing. Raindrops bead and stream on her arms like tiny jewels, and they run down to his hands, but he finds himself hardly caring. The heat in his hands will evaporate them before he knows it.

A distant gunshot shakes them both out of their passion-induced stupor. Lara suddenly releases his hands and turns around, walking out of the small hut they've found themselves in, against her better judgement. Alex is still standing there for a few milliseconds shy of a moment, before alertness soon overpowers his disappointment.

Another gunshot. Then another. Snarling. Barking. Thunder crashing.

Alex follows Lara out of the hut, then down a narrow passage. Once out of the passage, they see Roth, alternating fire between two pistols at a feral black wolf reminiscent to the bastards the duo saw earlier.

"Agh, get back!" He yells, continuing to fire at the relentless beast.

Lara skids to a stop, calling his name twice - once in confusion, once more in silent urgency.

"Go on, get out of here! Go on!" Roth fires thrice more until the animal is finally hit, and rolls over to a nearby rock, dead.

As soon as it's down, Roth attempts to steady himself, but collapses, due to the severity of his wound. But saying his wound was severe, would be nothing less than sugarcoating it. His shinbone is almost completely visible. Alex didn't even know wolf bites could go that deep - and he's not sure if he should be proud, or spooked as fuck, that that was the kind of thing he risked happening to himself, or worse, Lara, in that forest.

"Roth, I'm coming!" Lara shouts, racing to Roth's aid as he scoots himself backwards to lean on the rock just alongside the wolf carcass.

Alex followed suit, and was just about to comment on how much damage the wolf had done to Roth's leg, but decides against it, since it's already pretty obvious.

"Thank God you're alive." She says, gasping as she assesses his wound for herself. She probably never thought multiple wolves would be capable of this, either, let alone one.

Alex is pretty glad Roth made it, too, just not in this state. His own injury seemed like one you could be able to put a bandaid on, now that he saw Roth's.

"That God's got nothing to do with it," Roth pants, squeezing the trigger on his pistol. Alex's eyes widen, before he hears it click, then sighs in relief.

Roth looks back over at Lara as she produces a roll of gauze from one of his various cargo pockets, and begins to wrap it around his wound. "It's good to see you, too, girl. And, Alex. Surprised you made it up this far." He makes an attempt at a weak smile.

You're telling me, Alex thinks. He should be offended, but, in all honesty, he's thinking the same thing.

Lara chuckles. "Sorry, they did a real number on your leg."

"Nah," Roth assures her breathlessly, drifting his eyes shut, "Looks worse than it is."

"Roth, are you kidding? That wolf bit you down to the bone. Literally." Alex protests.

Roth shakes his head. "That's the least of our problems. The wolves took my food pack. The transmitter from the lifeboat's in it. If we don't get that back, we're not getting off this bloody island."

Alex blinks. Clever wolves. But he's certainly not praising them.

"Yeah, but you're not in the best shape to be getting anything back. You need morphine, antiseptic -" Lara begins, but Roth cuts her off.

"Also in the pack."

Lara turns, places her hands on her hips, and says what everyone's thinking - "Shit."

"Exactly," Roth agrees. "Come here, come on." He stretches out his arms, and Alex and Lara encircle themselves in them, helping him over to the tiny wooden shelter where he's got a fire going, despite the rain. He's dragging his wounded left leg behind him, grunting with each step he takes, but the pain is soon too much for him to bear. His eyes roll to the back of his head, and he lolls over on Lara's side.

"Oh, no. No, no, no, no, no." She babbles, trying to keep Roth from falling. Alex attempts to keep him up, as well, but the man is much heavier, and is instead guided gently to the ground by Lara, as she cannot support his dead weight, either.

She leans over him and places her hands on his upper body, trying to gauge a pulse, but his bulky equipment does not allow her to do so. So she lifts her shaking fingers and presses them gently on the right side of his neck, exhaling deeply in relief upon feeling a weak, labored pulse. It's still there, though, and that's what matters. Now, she must find the pack in order to keep it that way, or strengthen it. She shivers at the thought of having another run-in with those ruthless wolves. But someone's got to do it, right?

Her voice wavers with anxiety and uncertainty, but she knows Alex can't go with her. That'd just be selfish of her to do. And she's traversed this island alone for over a day already - surely, she can do it alone this time. "You stay here with Roth. I'll go find the pack."

Alex must pick up on her hesitant tone, because he furrows his brows. "You don't seem so sure about that. Why don't I come with you?" He stands, wincing as his bad hand pushes on his knee. That display just seems to prove her point.

"You're in no condition to be going anywhere, Alex. Look at you. You need to rest, you've spent the entire day climbing. Doing more climbing will only make your injury worse." Her voice was more firm now, more stern. Almost motherly. Looking at her body language, Alex knew she meant business. Not that she never did, but.. yeah. She'd still be right, even if Alex couldn't decipher body language. She's always right.

"Alright. Just watch yourself out there." And with that, she turned and walked away, in the general direction of a single wolf that howled from a ledge in the distance. Alex didn't know how to stop her, because he couldn't, knowing that Roth's life was on the line.

No one could stop her, either way. Nothing could stop her. Not a bunch of crazy cultists, not a gate that's missing a handle, not a ship that wrecks in a freak accident, not the rain, not a pack of gargantuan black wolves, not the need to survive, nothing. She was like an unstoppable force colliding with a piece of one-ply toilet paper. Yeah. That sounded about right, in Alex's head.

He scoots over, close to where Roth is lying, so he could monitor his condition. He follows Lara's example and places his index and middle finger at a prominent vein in Roth's neck, until he can feel a light, rhythmic pump going. He doesn't take his fingers off, though, even as he's watching Lara jump from a small wooden wagon to a pavilion, and from that pavilion, to a dangling wooden crate, that slowly swings her over to a building ahead of her. Then he loses sight of her.

He looks back down at Roth, who's as still as the statue sheltered under the pavilion Lara was on. There's a large gout of dried blood at the right side of his forehead, and the heavy rain does nothing to wash it out at least a little.

Roth had more experience with the 'great outdoors' than anyone else on the Endurance - even Lara. He was the Jack-of-all-trades when it came to survival. Lara had only been on so many expeditions with him, but she still managed to get a few pointers, and that was more than evident in the way she carried herself. When she allowed herself to be, she was confident in her knowledge and her ability. She didn't simply trot aimlessly around the island like a lost puppy, waiting for a solution to fall from the sky and knock her over the head. If the all the doors were closed, she'd burst them open with a battering ram, and just keep moving. And Alex admired that in her. Sure, she'd be a bit hesitant to show herself off at times, and Alex couldn't possibly understand why. When you're brilliant to that extent, you have to show it somehow, don't you? But, no. Lara doesn't do that.

All her potential is locked inside her, and it only ever escapes when she's met with a situation that requires that potential. Alex noticed her hesitation before she began to climb the crevice only moments before, but once she was inbetween it, there was no stopping her. Not even when she slipped, or the rocks fell right past her. She kept going. And Alex could only imagine if it were her who had gotten the arm injury instead of him, she'd still be scaling this entire island without thinking twice. Especially considering she got impaled through the stomach, and she stays knocking everyone dead. Literally.

By the time this is all over, she'll probably still consider herself a normal, college-age girl, with no special quirks or endearing characteristics. But no other college-age girl would be able to even watch the shit she's been through.

Thunder crashes, and, with it, Alex hears a set of metallic clangs and thuds. From where he's sitting, he can't exactly see what's going on, but he has this bad feeling in the pit of his stomach. It makes his elevated arm throb more fervently. Jesus, this shit really must have a mind of its own. All the more reason to get some of that morphine, because this is getting creepy.

He removes his glasses with his free hand and wipes them down on his dingy shirt, ridding it of the raindrops.

I might as well put it in my pocket, he thinks, since they're just going to get wet again, and I don't need them right now. He quickly stows them in his front jean pocket, so he won't sit on them, and returns his gaze to Roth.

Now that his arm is elevated and is finally catching a break, its throbbing lessens considerably, and he doesn't feel as lethargic. He can actually stomach the pain now, instead of wincing with every beat of his heart, like before.

Despite his long-awaited relief, he feels like something's missing. Perhaps he's hungry. His stomach growls in affirmation. Okay, yeah, he's hungry. Seeing a bunch of hens clucking around when he's thinking about Jonah's grilled chicken breast isn't helping matters, especially when his reflexes are much too slow for him to catch one, and he's not about to shoot them and alert possible enemies. But, besides hunger, there's something else, something..

His fingers rap against the grass, eager to type.

His day-old computer. Probably being scrapped by the cultists.

He's not used to spending such a long period of time without an electronic of some sort, besides a walkie-talkie. It's like he's jonesing, or something, and it's strange, because it didn't affect him when Lara was around.

Oh, there's the word for it. Loneliness. He never feels lonely when he has his computer. When he doesn't, he needs someone to talk to, and, quite obviously, he can't talk to Roth. Talking to himself seemed odd. So, he's left to listen to nothing but the snarl of his stomach and the crash of the thunder, occasionally catching sight of lightning bolts. He does so for a longer amount of time than he originally thought he could handle, before loneliness brings a friend to the party - lethargy - and it gets the best of him.

Alex comes to a few moments later, at the sound of two hushed voices near the fire. His hand instinctively grips the gun in his pocket, alert as to whoever - or, knowing this island, whatever, is there. He looks over his shoulder, only to see Roth sitting up against the barrels at their temporary camp, and Lara sitting just beside him, her ponytail billowing in the wind. An opened first-aid kit and a blinking black walkie-talkie-looking thing is at their feet.

She got it.

From where he's lying, he can't see any signs of blood that wasn't there before she left. It's probably because he doesn't have his glasses on, or because of the obscure angle in which he's seeing her - but, really, she doesn't seem to be too hurt.

He's about to get up and announce his now wakeful presence, but he notices something - there's only a slight prickly feeling where most of the pain in his arm used to be, like someone pinched the juncture of his forearm and his bicep. He rolls up his sleeve to see a bandaid in that very place, and there's gauze wrapped around the tear in his sleeve where his wound is.

Whatever Lara did, he knew he had to thank her. Only God knows what she went through, or risked going through, to save not just Alex and Roth, but the entire Endurance Crew.

Lara and Roth are discussing plans to take the transmitter up to the radio tower, but Roth lamentingly admits that he will not be able to do it himself. Lara is silent. He attempts to reassure her, but, much to Alex's disbelief, she thinks she's not the kind of Croft her dad must've been. But if he knew what she went through on this island, and knew that she survived all of it, he would've been so proud of her.

"Sure, you are," Alex hears Roth say, "You just don't know it yet." Then there's a slight clinking sound, then a clattering sound. Lara is silent once more.

"Well, let's hope I'm a fast learner, then." She finally says.

She makes to get up, but Roth closes his hand over her wrist to stop her. "Just.. be careful, Lara." She says nothing after that.

Alex senses her walking towards him, and smiles drowsily at her as she crouches level to his position. "Thank you, Lara." He says. She may just think he's thanking her for fixing him up with some good old morphine, and she may continue to think that way, but it's much more than just that. He wonders if he'll ever get to say that to her face one day.

"And thank you, Alex. I wouldn't have gotten this far without you."

Alex's cheeks heat up at her statement, not expecting a girl like her to ever say that to a guy like him. He also didn't quite expect her to remember when he saved her life, or at least remember to thank him. "I could say the same thing about you, L.C."

And for the first time since they've marooned on this island, she grins, actually grins, with her eyes crinkling and everything, at him.

Just as Alex thinks things couldn't be even more unexpected than this, and that he swears he's hallucinating or dreaming or something because this just can't be real, she leans over and presses her mercifully soft lips to his stubbly, abrasive cheek.

His heart starts to tumble and thump and toss like shoes in a dryer, and it seems as though the butterflies in his stomach have metamorphosed to a flock of fervent hummingbirds. His mouth is dry with the inability to formulate words, and his brain is overwhelmed with the inability to formulate one single crystal-clear thought.

This isn't real. But her lips feel real. The warmth of her body near his feels real.

He's still speechless when she gets up. "I'll radio you when I'm at the tower." She says. Alex just nods, vainly attempting to keep his expression neutral. He knows he's failed when he sees her face twitch in amusement, but it makes him feel even warmer inside that, despite everything, she still gets an opportunity to smile every now and then. And Alex feels more than proud, if not a teensy bit smug, that he was the one to give her that opportunity.

I'm rooting for you, partner.