I lied. Writing is for fun. I'm letting the characters tell the story. They'll wrap up when they wanna wrap up.
Good golly, batman! This fic is gonna be a long one!
Edited 2/8/23 and 2/13/23.
Lara didn't like how frequent her outings to Guildford were becoming; once was enough for her. Once wasn't enough to bring back unbidden images or memories. Once wasn't enough to fill her with dread for the duration of the journey. Twice, however, was. Going back a second time meant that she already knew what lay in wait for her. Going back a second time meant that she would spend less time taking in long-forgotten sights and more time thinking and remembering. And all she could remember was loss–an adolescence interrupted and unfulfilled.
The silence that fell over the Bentley along the way didn't help, either. She looked over at Sam, who kept her gaze fixated out the window. Lara wished that Sam would break the silence with a quick joke like she had been earlier, but all vestiges of her good-natured self were long-gone. She wondered what had caused such a change in her companion.
Sam's face had this look about it when she was depressed, Lara was noticing: her brows would furrow, her eyes would narrow, her nostrils would flare out, and her jaw would be clenched. Sam's sad face was more angry than anything else. And by God, did she look angry right then. Lara figured she ought to do something to cheer Sam up. After all, Sam had been crying quite a bit earlier, though Lara hadn't been able to get a clear explanation as to why.
She glanced up at Bingsley in the driver's seat before shifting her focus back to Sam and reaching across the backseat to take one of Sam's hands in her own. It wasn't strange for two gals who were pals to hold hands, was it? Lara hoped not.
Sam looked down at their clasped hands, then over at Lara, who gave her her best attempt at a small smile. Sam didn't return the smile, but she did give Lara's hand a small squeeze before looking back out the window. Lara wished she could do more, but Bingsley was right there.
"I wish everything wasn't so gray," Sam remarked as she watched the scenery drift by.
"I think that's just how winter is," Lara replied.
"I guess."
"But soon spring will come, bringing with it the colors of life," Lara said, trying her best to be bright and cheery for the both of them. Sam let out a small snort. "What?"
"That's actually the name of one of my favorite movies by Cora Nova: Colors of Life."
"Yeah? What's it about?"
"Well," Sam began, "it's a story about two girls who attend an Ivy League university. They're both gay but one of them is closeted. They meet in a coffee shop and become fast friends then lovers, but the closeted girl's desire to remain closeted creates conflict between the two of them."
"How's that?"
"The other girl starts wondering if what they have is real after months of not being able to hold her girlfriend's hand in public," Sam continued. Lara chewed her bottom lip in thought.
"But they work it out in the end, right?" She asked.
"One way or the other."
"Sounds like a lovely film."
"It's alright."
"I thought it was your favorite?"
"It is."
Lara didn't know what else to say, and she need not say anything as they arrived at the Manor shortly thereafter. They got out of the car after Bingsley drove them through the gates, and Sam, holding her safety pillow to her stomach, craned her head to take a good look around the courtyard. Lara let her do so without interruption.
"You know, we had a mansion in Beverly Hills, but it was nothing like this."
"It sadly doesn't hold a light to the palaces of the royal family."
"You actually grew up here?" Sam asked, turning her head to look back at Lara.
"A little too quickly," Lara murmured.
"What?"
"I said 'unfortunately.' Shall we?"
"Yeah," Sam replied. They walked together through the oak doors at the center of the marble blind arcade that decorated the front facade of the Manor, emerging into the Marble Hall, where Cora Nova sat waiting for them at the bottom of the marble staircase.
"Ms. Croft!" Cora greeted her as she got to her feet, "Thank you for being here again." Lara found the statement to be strange considering she owned the place, after all.
"Of course. By the way, Cora, this is Sam," Lara said, gesticulating towards Sam as she spoke, "we live together." Lara wasn't sure if she imagined it or not, but she thought she saw a frown flash across Sam's features.
"Pleasure to meet you. I'd shake your hand, but it seems you have them both full," Cora said, nodding at Sam's safety pillow.
"Yeah, I just had an appendectomy."
"And you came all the way here from London?" Cora asked incredulously.
"Curiosity got the best of me. Plus it beats being bored in bed at home." Sam nodded in the direction of the cameraman getting set up to the side. "Not to be nosey, but is he using an ARRI Alexa?" Cora blinked in surprise.
"Actually, it is. How'd you know that? You involved in the field?"
"I'm a film major and I come from a big media family."
"Yeah?" Cora asked, "Anyone I'd know?"
"Not in a good way."
"Try me."
"You know Hisao Nishimura?" Sam asked. Cora nodded.
"He's been lighting the press up lately," Cora remarked. Lara shot Sam a curious glance which wasn't returned. "I'm guessing you're related?"
"Unfortunately," Sam replied. Cora laughed.
"You seem alright though. Want to take a closer look?"
"Absolutely!" Sam exclaimed, her eyes alight.
"While you two do that, I'm going to go find Winston and see about moving some things into storage for the gunfight scene you wanted to shoot."
"That would be fantastic, thank you!" Cora said.
"I'll come find you in a bit," Sam added. With that, Lara was on her way to locate Winston. She walked through one of the doorways beside the bottom of the staircase to enter into a long corridor where the armory was situated. She stopped in her tracks, taking a moment to take in the sights around her. She was all too well acquainted with the suits of armor lining the marble-floored corridor, having frequently stolen articles of them to don in her younger years. Her father used to get so frustrated with her for doing so.
Until he stopped getting frustrated.
Lara shook her head to clear it and strode down the hall to her right, her footsteps echoing through the empty space. If she were Winston, where would she be? The kitchen, perhaps? She knew Winston's nature. Since he knew she would be coming, he was doubtlessly fixing her tea and a snack. Not that she could have eaten anything. She felt a peculiar pressure in her head beginning to mount.
She exited into the ante room at the end of the hall and entered into the door to her right to enter the kitchen. Sure enough, there was Winston slaving over a plate of mini sandwiches, just like the ones she didn't get to have last time. Winston looked up from what he was doing when he heard footsteps approaching. When he saw who it was, he gave her a small smile.
"Lady Lara," he greeted her, "I was just fixing you some tea–Earl Grey."
"Thank you, Winston," Lara said as Winston fixed her a cup and handed it to her, "I came here to talk to you about the gallery and the-"
"Yes, the rooms which the director wishes to deface and demolish with their stunt work and jumping around. You're truly okay with it?"
"If there's any damage, I'll see to it that she's held liable," Lara replied, taking a sip of tea.
"As you should," Winston nodded with a hint of contempt to his tone. Lara resisted the urge to roll her eyes. She had to remind herself that to Winston, the Manor was his life, his job. Of course he'd want to take pride in maintaining his job well; that was one of the traits of his that Lara respected. That didn't mean that she had to share in his sentiments, however.
"Have you made arrangements with the rest of the servants yet to have anything fragile moved?"
"I have, but I wanted to consort with you on one logistic, my Lady, and that is: where do we move the articles in question to?"
"Into one of the ballrooms?"
"But you gave the director permission to film in there. You gave her permission to film nearly everywhere but the West Wing." Lara paused.
"So just move it into the unused ballroom."
"The music room?"
"Yes, Winston."
"You're positive you want us to disrupt that-?" Winston began. The pressure in Lara's head continued to mount.
"She's dead, Winston. It's not like I can change that by letting the Wing gather dust. We might as well use the space for something." Her words made sense logically. So why didn't she agree with them? Winston cleared his throat before continuing.
"So the ballroom, then."
"Yes." Lara finished her mug of tea and set it down. She needed a change of scenery. "I'll be back for those sandwiches. I brought a friend with me, by the way."
"In that case, I will prepare extra."
"Lovely." Lara strode out of the kitchen and back into the ante room. She made to go back down the hallway to her left to Sam when the hallway directly ahead of her caught her attention. She stopped in her steps. She didn't know what force compelled her to move, only that she moved forward. She stopped in front of the second door to her left, telling herself that she could still turn back and go to Sam. Curiosity got the best of her, however, and she let herself in.
She hadn't properly used the room as her own for years, yet there wasn't a single speck of dust on any of the surfaces. Winston's doing, no doubt. Why she had gone in there, she didn't know. Perhaps the archaeologist in her had wanted to enter to dig up evidence of the past, not that there was much of the past to be dug up. Most of the bedroom's mahogany surfaces were bare save for a sparse few artifacts adorning a set of shelving. Lara approached the shelf and examined its contents.
Her first find was a rosary, dating back to circa 1999 when she had her first communion. It was one of the few slices of evidence of her active practice of Christianity in her youth. That was all before she learned history, of course.
The next artifact was a series of odd animal bones, origin unknown. They were among her earlier archaeological finds. Lara remembered finding them by one of the fountains in the garden one day. Her mother was absolutely repulsed and insisted she get rid of them, but her father good-naturedly helped her catalog her newest finds. These were enough to bring a small smile to her face.
On the shelf above the bones, Lara saw a series of photos and examined those next. The first one she examined was a picture of her in her red and navy Marymount track uniform. She remembered the captains being nice, but the girls in her year were miserable to deal with. She remembered calling Roth all the time to complain and ask for advice on how to handle them.
Not like she could have called her father.
The next photo was one of her painting with her mother. Her mother leaned back on her arms and looked on at what she was creating with a soft smile adorning her features. Lara figured the photo had to have been from around when she was six, judging by how young she herself looked. She remembered painting that picture, too. Her mother always told her that mistakes added character to the piece–words that stuck with her even to adulthood. Lara always thought about those words whenever she looked at the painting–which was really a series of squiggles–hanging on the wall to her left.
Much like how she was right at that moment.
With a pang and a nasty throb emanating from her head, she decided that she didn't want to be a part of the excavation she was conducting anymore. She exited the room and recused herself down the hallway and up a set of side stairs to the library. Why? Maybe it was because the library had always been a place of solitary comfort for her.
"Why am I not surprised to find you in the library?" Came Sam's voice from behind her just moments after she had entered the room.
"Funny," Lara remarked dryly, turning around to face Sam. Sam took a seat on one of the red leather reading couches that decorated the room.
"You okay?" she asked. Lara shrugged.
"About as okay as I can be." Lara turned her back to Sam and busied herself with looking through the library's inventory. She started with the 'A' section of authors.
"So…you're not okay."
"I don't know what I am."
"Meaning?"
"I have so many good memories, but all I can think about is what I lost. Does that even make sense?" Lara let out an exasperated sigh.
"It does."
"It just feels like someone else lived here when she was younger."
"Maybe that's because you were someone else?" Sam posed.
"Mm…" Lara hummed in acknowledgement as her eyes landed on the three volumes of the first edition of Pride and Prejudice. She pulled them out of the shelf. "Here, take a look at these. I know you'll appreciate them." She turned back around, walked over to Sam, and held the books out to her. Sam set her pillow aside and took the books into her hands.
"These look old," Sam observed.
"That's because what you're holding is the first edition."
"Seriously?" Sam asked as Lara took a seat beside her.
"Yeah. You can have it if you want," Lara said. Sam turned to look at her with an incredulous frown.
"I can't accept this. This has gotta be worth a fortune."
"Just take it, Sam. I wouldn't offer something like that up if I didn't think you were worth it." Sam's only response was a frown. "What's wrong?"
"Can I ask you something?" Sam asked.
"Of course."
"If I'm worth it, why do you not want people to know you have a girlfriend? Why did you introduce me to Cora as someone you live with?" Lara let out a sigh. She knew she hadn't imagined Sam's frown earlier.
"Well, for starters you're aware of my social status, yes?"
"We're inside the symbol of that status right now," Sam replied.
"Are you familiar with the equal rights campaign, Let's Get Britain To go Queer?"
"No?"
"They're an activist group who have recently been making active pushes for marriage equality."
"So…?"
"There isn't a single openly gay member of the peerage right now. I would be the first. Can you imagine the field day the activists would have trying to turn me into a symbol for their movement if I came out?"
"Why should that matter?"
"Because, Sam…" Lara's words came out more brusque than she intended. She wished her head would stop pounding. The pain made it quite difficult to formulate coherent responses. "It's just a lot and I'd rather not be bothered. Can't the answer be as simple as 'I want to live a normal life'?" Sam crossed her arms.
"But you aren't normal, Lara."
"Excuse me?" The pain in Lara's head was excruciating.
"You aren't normal. You're this…incredibly athletic, drop-dead gorgeous brainiac countess who's dating the daughter of a billionaire media magnate. What part of that sounds normal to you?"
"What's this actually about, Sam?" Lara demanded. It was Sam's turn to sigh.
"Something happened and we're probably going to get a lot of attention soon."
"What?" Lara tried to blink away the cloud that had descended over her mind.
"My dad's taking my uncle to court over Naomi and he's been very public about it. I think he's doing it intentionally to control the narrative with all his press buddies." Lara thought back to Cora's comment about Sam's father earlier. "And I need to do something about it, I can't just sit around and do nothing. Like it or not, Lara, you're going to receive a lot of attention if we keep dating." Those were the keywords: 'if we keep dating.' Lara felt her heart start to race as her palms began to sweat.
"What exactly are you going to do?" Lara asked.
"Tell the press who my dad actually is as a person."
"And I can't talk you out of it?"
"This is my sister we're talking about."
"So, what?" Lara demanded as her ears started ringing. The pressure in her head had reached a point where her skull was threatening to burst. "Is this an ultimatum? 'Come out as gay or else this is over'? How can you put this on me right now?!"
"Lara-"
"No!" Lara shouted, practically jumping to her feet, "What the hell is wrong with you?! How can you just arbitrarily make decisions like this?!" The pressure bubble had finally popped. She didn't like anything that Sam was saying. Sam didn't like anything she had to say either, evidently, as she immediately bristled when Lara shouted.
"So what the fuck did you expect?!" Sam spat, "To date in secret for all of eternity?!" This only served to stoke Lara's ire.
"No, but I wanted it to be my choice when I decide to-!"
"Sometimes we don't get to choose how life goes, Lara. I'm proof of that principle. Sorry if I'm being a dick, but you're kind of acting like one, too. You're acting like I wanna deal with any of this shit!" Why was Sam being so aggressive with her? Lara felt the urge to cry. Sam was always so kind to her, so why was she being so mean? Why were they being mean to each other?
"And what about my side of things?!" Lara demanded, "Have you considered what this does to me?!" She started to take quick, heavy breaths, and her face began to tingle. Too much was happening at once. Too much was changing. She didn't like big changes. The air felt too thick to breathe, and her chest was plagued with a sharp pain. She sank to her knees and put a hand to her chest while she continued to struggle for air. She couldn't hear anything over her own frantic breaths. As she sank down to the ground, she wondered if she was going to suffocate to death as her vision went dark around the edges.
"Lara, I didn't mean to-" Air. She needed fresh air. Too much to handle. Everything was too much to handle. Error. Error. System overload. She jumped and bristled when Sam put a hand on her shoulder.
"Don't-!" She gasped, clambering to her feet and batting Sam's hand away, "Don't touch me! Leave me alone!" She stormed out of the library before she could see Sam's face. How could she? How could she?
How could she not understand how much was at stake?
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