I'm probably the worse patient in the world. Just ask Sam since she took it upon herself to nurse me back to health. According to her, this involves a lot of massages and sponge baths. And even when I'm able to bathe on my own she 'helps.' I get a little snippy with her sometimes, but I feel bad about it almost as soon as the words leave my mouth.
And in all truth she's being marvelous. I swear to god she bought out the entire history section of a bookstore, just to judge by the piles of books everywhere in our flat. She's also hit up the mythology section which has actually been a great help.
The day that she'd left me in the rainforest in Peru had been one of the longest days of my life. I couldn't sleep, or focus, and spent most of the time watching the trees for her return. It's bad enough being scared for yourself, but when your other half is out there alone it's so much worse.
But then she'd come, and I swear there'd been a halo of sunlight behind her. That or the painkillers had kicked in again. But she'd looked so beautiful, silhouetted by the sun, and the way her hair shone...well I've always had a thing for Sam's hair. Help was coming, she'd said. And guess what I found?
That had been three months ago. According to the doctors, I am going to be off my feet for another two at least and I have the cast to prove it. Sam is puttering about in the kitchen, and I'm staring at the skulls on our coffee table. We usually keep them in a fire safe. It's really a modified gun safe, but it's fireproof. We have guns in there too finally, after months of red tape. Sam doesn't like it, and on one level I don't either, but they're Roth's and I feel better having them legally. I'm sure it'll just add to the media speculation. That's twice now I've led an expedition into disaster. I feel terrible about it as it is, there's nothing they can say or do that I haven't thought about or accused myself of. The Sun is the only one brazen enough to ask if I'm a murderer or just plain bad luck.
I can't disagree with either idea.
The skull to the left is the first one we found. It looks more like a gemstone than bone or crystal, and has a faint blue hue to it. Sam tried to figure out what it was made from using some books she found, but we still haven't a clue. I don't want to damage it to take samples but I think it's sapphire. I put my hand on it, and it's warm to the touch. Whenever they're out, there's a vibration in the air, an audible thrum.
To it's right is the skull from Peru. This one is looks like it's made of ruby. It seems that the so-called crystal skulls are more like gems than crystal. But there are still others to find and maybe one of those is an actual crystal. I rest my other hand on that second one. It's colder. Both throb, and it might be a trick of my eyes but they're glowing. I pull my hands away and look up at the big map of dig sites and sigh. I have the distinct impression of being watched.
"You know, Sam, we really need to avoid getting injured or distracted. We'll be old ladies by the time we find the rest of them." I look up at her as she takes a seat next to me, holding two plates of eggs. I take mine eagerly. "Most of these are probably dead ends anyway."
"Is the great Lara Croft getting impatient?" She pokes her fork into the meal and digs in. I take my revenge by swiveling around until I can rest my cast on her lap. Sam simply uses it like a tray for her breakfast.
"It'll be okay, sweetie. They've been there for how many thousands of years? They can wait a few more months. You've got that lecture coming up, remember?"
A grimace crosses my face. "We're driving each other bonkers and don't remind me. I'm not even close to being prepared!"
"It's my job to remind you, as your sexratary."
"...What?"
She produces glasses from somewhere and puts them on, then pulls her hair back into an office-style bun. In the most serious of voices she says, "I'm there to manage your professional career, film every last second of your life, and bang you like we're lesbian bunnies. Sexratary."
Bursting into laughter, I nearly upend my eggs. I save them, and shake my head at her big grin. "I won't be having my way with you on the desk for awhile yet, Sam. Don't get your hopes up." The idea sounds really appealing though. I've caught her ordering some rather naughty things lately, but I'll just have to nervously wait for her to reveal what she's up to. My tastes have expanded greatly since we've gotten together, but it's not entirely her influence, Probably.
"Promises, promises," she says, waggling her fork at me. "And you're not driving me crazy. You're annoyed, and you have cabin fever. I know you've just been grouchy. For the past month or three."
I feel horrible and look at her with the most apologetic expression I can manage. "I have not been that bad, have I?"
"Yes." She takes a few more bites, and swallows before continuing. "We're going to spend a week out doing stuff when you can walk better, but for now we're going to go somewhere, and you're going to suck it up."
Sam is telling me to suck it up and try to have fun. I make a face.
She points her fork at me. "GRUMP!"
I play along, crossing my fork with hers like a little sword. "You can't force me to have fun, Sam!"
"I can't?" She parries my strike, and we forget about food or the skulls on the table and just have a little sword fight with our forks until my throat is hoarse from laughter and Sam has me pinned beneath her. She covers the skulls with her shirt so they don't have to watch us, and I'm profoundly grateful for that, and not just because of the view I suddenly have.
"Sam…" I gasp her name as her hands push my shirt up. Her fingers are like little sparks of lightning against my skin. "I'm sorry I've been so terrible." Her lips silence any further apologies from me while her fingers make me speak without words.
True to her word, Sam drags me out the next day. I suck it up and hobble along behind her on my crutches. I thought at first she is just going to drag me shopping of all things, but she leads me to a park instead.
"I thought you could use some outdoors. I've got some other plans later, but it's so nice out." She takes my hand and rests it in her lap as we sit on a bench. A family of ducks waddle past and the scene is so serenely relaxing that I feel the tension ebb out of my shoulders. I put my arm around her, and don't care if anyone sees. She smiles brilliantly and threads her fingers into mine and we sit there in comfortable silence for awhile.
Across the way there's another couple. They're elderly, leaning shoulder to shoulder, looking about as content as I feel. Sam must have picked up on it, because her voice startles me out of my thoughts. "Do you think that'll be us in fifty years?"
I don't even have to think about it. "Yes."
"Promises, promises," she murmurs, and I smile, touching her cheek with mine.
"A promise, yes." I always keep my promises.
I think we're there for another hour or so. I'm loathe to move. We're not silent, though. We talk about the people we see, about the work she's been doing editing our adventures in Peru and about some of the places I want to study next, but mostly we make plans. Plans for after I'm better, plans that have nothing to do with crystal skulls. We want a bigger place (and the mansion is out), which means I'm going to need to start doing more to earn my keep though Sam insists she can cover it. She silences me with a look. Fine. Right now it's not as if I can work, though I can bring in some money with lectures. Assuming I don't make a fool of myself.
There's a good chance I'm gonna make a fool of myself.
Sam eventually gets up and helps me to my feet. "Operation Cure Cabin Fever is now entering it's second phase!"
"If you say dancing I'm going to shank you," I reply dryly. She just grins at me and hails a cab. For both our sakes she isn't allowed to drive.
It isn't even that she's bad, just terrifying. At least on English roads. I obviously can't drive, so the cab is our only solution. She starts to help me into the taxi, but I give her a pleading look and she backs off. I need to do this myself. It takes me a bit, but I get in. She grabs my crutches and slides them in over our laps after she follows me in. I put my hand over hers. "So where are we going, then?"
She gives me a grumpy look. "Well if you're going to be a meanie butt maybe we should just go home."
"Sam…" I try to give her my best pout. I think she's just playing around, and she lasts about three more seconds before her face lightens and proves me right. "That's more like it."
"The suffering I endure, dating an independent woman," Sam replies, putting her hand to her forehead in mock drama. She opens one eye and looks at me. We both giggle like idiots. Sam had been right that I'd needed this, but I wasn't going to give her the satisfaction of telling her that. Really, I want to kiss her. I settle for a peck on the cheek, and lean my face against hers.
"The fact that you put up with me makes you a saint," I tell her, letting her laugh warm my insides.
"I could say the same about you. I keep worrying I'll somehow scare you away by just…"
"By being you, you mean? The same you you've been since we were barely in training bras?"
Sam pokes one of my breasts. "You mean since you were in a training bra. I was a late bloomer."
"You bloomed, Sam." Oh how I'd noticed. My face is turning red and Sam has this triumphant little smile on her face. It shuts me right up.
"I dunno. Dating someone is different from being friends," she continues. I wait for her to go on. "There's different expectations. And I don't even mean just sex, though obviously that's important. It's me, duh. But...there are things you can do and say to a friend that you can't to a lover."
"Why not?" I sit up straighter and look hard at her. There's fluttering in my stomach from nerves, because I don't know what she's getting at and it's making me anxious. I don't like feeling anxious around Sam. "Sam you know you can tell me anything. And everything. Nothing has changed."
"Everything has changed!" She looks at me like she can't believe I don't get it, and I wonder if I've been living in some kind of blind haze. "You've changed, I've changed...our friends think we're freaks. I tried to go clubbing the other night, because you told me I should get out, and I…"
I got it, then. I got what she was saying so I put my arms around her and pulled her close. "Shh… Sam...We've changed, yes. But you haven't really dealt… I should have helped you through it. After what you had to do."
"I didn't want you to. I thought I could handle it, and you've been recovering and it wasn't fair of me since I wasn't hurt."
"Mental issues and PTSD are every bit as valid as a broken leg, Sam. Look at me." I turn her head towards me. "You suffered every bit as much as I did. And you know I understand. It was the one thing I couldn't lean on you for, but you can lean on me and I'm here. I'll always be here. Please lean on me."
"Until you aren't there." Sam looks away again, and I let her. She doesn't pull away at least, and I don't let go of her. "And when you aren't I can't sleep, I can't breathe, I just lay in bed thinking about it all night. And that's selfish of me."
"It wasn't your fault. And it's not selfish, it's natural."
"It never gets better, does it?"
"It does. Eventually. Especially as time goes on. Our lives might be marked by tragedy and survival, but…" I lean in and whisper in her ear. "Getting through this, getting past this is surviving too. Don't let him win."
The cab stops a moment later, and I look out to see where Sam had taken us. The London Eye rises up over the Thames and I smile. It's an awfully sweet gesture on Sam's part, and we get out of the car - her quickly, me much more slowly.
When she looks at me again she has a smile on her face, and I search her eyes. It's there, but not as strongly as usual. "Sam, we-"
"Not now. We'll talk on the wheel."
She starts towards it and I follow her, grateful she's willing to talk. When our positions had been reversed it had taken me longer. If this is how I've made her feel I feel terrible. I guess I deserve it.
There's a hesitation when we get onto the wheel. She usually grabs my hand first, so I wait for that, then I think that maybe she wants me to move first. So I take her hand when we sit.
"It'll get better, Sam. You have to trust me." Just trying to convince her of that makes me believe it in myself. I hope she notices the change.
"Promises, promises, Lara." Her hand squeezes mine, and I squeeze it back and feel this fire burning in me. That's been her favorite word all night. Promises.
The words spill out without any filter. "It does. You don't notice it at first because you're wallowing in your own self-pity, but one day you wake up and you realize that none of it hurts as much. The nightmares aren't as frequent, the city doesn't feel as constraining, and your hands feel clean of the blood. You have a career that you love, a person that you'd trade the world for and that yes, you deserve to live and be happy."
"God, sweetie…" She throws her arms around my neck and hugs me. I feel her lips, soft and warm against my ear. "That's called an epiphany!"
"It's supposed to be one for you, not for me!" I fight down the tears that threaten to spill down my cheeks. I don't let her pull away. Her lips curve up against my skin, and I can feel it like a change in the air. Whatever morose mood has overcome her has lifted. I resolve to keep an eye out for this in the future. "We have to promise each other something, Sam. We talk, we communicate. We don't keep anything buried inside. Even if it hurts us, even if we yell at each other or fight."
It's a promise we've usually tried to keep to anyway, but sometimes...sometimes you need to hear it in words.
"Okay."
We're out for several more hours before we head home. We don't talk about killing or death, though I listen intently as she talks about some advance in camera technology that I can't wrap my head around. I suspect that this time next week she'll have that new camera and be filming every moment of my life with it. Right now, I don't think I'll mind it.
When we get through the door I tug Sam into the bedroom. The lead always changes, but we always dance to the same wonderful music.