Lara

Sam doesn't mean it. I know she doesn't but it hurts all the same. I can't deny that I'm a killer, and that I'm very, very good at it, but she's very convincing and gets me down out of my tree. How could I not forgive her? But I'm still unhappy. One of us takes advantage of the other or maybe it might be both of us, but I feel a little dirty as we fix ourselves in the mirror.

I lean on the sink and look at myself in the mirror. "Sam…? What just happened."

She pauses in fixing her make-up and looks at me. "We made love, sweetie. You see, when a bird and a bee have the hots for each other…"

"That's not what I mean!" God, what's wrong with me? I'm snapping at her, but I can't help it. It's been bothering me for awhile now and I have a chance to say something, so I'm saying something. Which isn't the most reasonable thing in the world but there you have it. "We can't fix every argument with sex!"

Sam takes a step back, looking like I'd just slapped her. "That's not… Lara!" Her hurt turns into anger and she slaps me. "That's not fair!. That's not fair at all!"

I bring my hand to my face and stare at her. I actually deserve that slap but it pisses me off too. I start to speak but she shushes me.

"No. No, I'm speaking, you don't get to speak! No way! I didn't even start it this time!" Sam's shouting and I cringe because we're making a scene and when I try to shush her she smacks my hands. "And we don't always 'fix it with sex.' It's always fixed with talking! So what if we do it after?! That's what couples do!"

"Sam, I-" I've stepped in it and I'm suddenly less angry and a lot more freaked out and guilty.

"I don't wanna hear it, Lara. Good luck fucking your way out of this one." And just like that she's gone. I'm shaking, in anger and shock and with this wrenching feeling in my stomach. I've never seen her look so hurt, and I don't know why I even said any of that. I try to calm myself, and ignore the stares as I make my way back to our table. Sam isn't there, and she's already paid. Of course.

I rush to the front and look around, but she's nowhere in sight, so I pull out my phone and call her. "Sam? Pick up!" It goes to voicemail. "Sam, I'm sorry. Please pick up. Please. I'm a total idiot. I just want us to be more than sex. It's not that I don't want you or want to be with you or…" I can't control my voice any longer. I don't cry. Not in public, but I'm very close to it. God we've already broken our 'talk about it' promise.

I should have realized this is a touchy subject with Sam. She's never had a relationship last this long and sex has always been a huge part of her life. I call her again, and tell her again I'm a git and I'm sorry. We've spent way too much time apologizing to each other today. I wait for a cab and try to source where these feelings have come from. Why I've reacted like this. It can't just be that I feel like we're just shagging. I know we are more than that. My own temper pretty much putters out in the face of Sam's hurt.

The night went to hell right around the time we started talking about that damned book. It stirs up a lot of old, painful feelings, and some newer ones, too. Sam wouldn't have had to kill someone if she hadn't been out there with me. But I'd also probably be dead without her. I hate this feeling. As quickly as it had come my irritation and anger have abated. I can't go around blaming other things for my mistakes. We've both said hurtful things. Mine was worse. I can't let this fester.

Me and relationships are a bad mix. I need to fix this. I can't just bribe her with new camera equipment, that's actually worse than what I've accused her of doing. Flowers and chocolates can work as a peace offering, so I have my cab stop at a shop so I can pick some up. Her favorite kind, of course. They have little almonds in them.

I get back in the cab and try calling Sam again. This time it goes right to voicemail. I frown, worried. I know she doesn't want to talk to me but I hope she listens to the voicemail. I sound pathetic but Sam is worth sounding pathetic. My mind gets filled with all kinds of scenarios. Catching her packing. Catching her already gone. Out of my life forever because I acted like an insecure asshole. I'm being irrational and panicking, but I literally try to imagine her being gone and simply can't accept it. Sam is my family, she's the only family I have. I can fix this. I just need to calm down, and hope Sam has calmed down too so we can talk like adults.

None of the scenarios come close to what I actually see when we get close to the flat. Flickering flame casting everything in hues of orange and red. I don't even think twice as I rush up the stairs. What happened while I was dawdling around picking up flowers?!

Sam

I can't believe that woman. I just can't believe her! And the worst part of it is once Lara says it it worms its way into my thoughts where it plays on infinite loop and I go back over every fight or every hurt to see if she was right. I like sex. I've never been ashamed of it, and it's one of the ways I can feel clos to her that no one else can share.

I'm raging in my cab, balling and unballing my fists and okay I'm crying too but it hurts. I hate her. I fucking hate her right now. She hit on my biggest insecurity and she hadn't even been trying. That's Lara though. There's no one else on the planet who could lay me out the way she can with a single sentence. I hear my phone ring, but I'm too upset to answer. After the fourth time I just turn my cell phone off. I don't want to talk to her right now. I'll say something I'll regret later.

Somehow I make it up the stairs and into the apartment. My makeup is ruined, and I probably look like I just had my heart broken, which is close if you think about it. I go into the bathroom to clean up my face and then change into sweat pants and a tank top. It's one of Lara's tank tops, actually, and I glare at it before putting it on. Like that could convey my displeasure with the woman. I could rip it up or something but that would accomplish nothing. I'm still going to wear it. Where had that come from? Weren't we supposed to talk about shit before it got this bad?

"It's not just sex!" I kick the couch before flopping onto it, then rub my toes "This sucks!" I'm talking to no one but myself, but I feel as though something responds. "I can't help who I am! Is that it? She never wanted me to change before! Or is she afraid? I don't want to have less. I want...I like it the way it is…" Oh my god I'm hugging the couch cushion. I'm sixteen again. All I need is some Häagen-Dazs and a sappy movie and I'll have the grand trifecta of sad and pathetic. I fling the pillow across the room and look out the window.

Here I am, upset at her and I'm already worried where she is. She's fine. I need to calm down. She'll be home soon and I don't want to be screaming at her. I feel oddly at ease as I walk into the kitchen to get a drink. I start boiling some water for mac and cheese, too, since I hadn't eaten. I'm not going to share with Lara, either. Bitch can get her own mac and cheese. I start to go through what I want to say when she comes home. Tell her why it hurt so much. Just because I'm carefree and physical doesn't mean I don't have issues. I pat myself on the back for being rational and hope that translates to being rational and calm later.

There's a faint buzzing in the air and I find myself drawn to the safe in the bedroom. I pick up her jade pendant as I pass it, and stroke it with one hand while I open the safe by rote. I look at the skulls inside. "Maybe it's all your guys' fault." They stare back at me impassionately, and provide no answers. That was stupid. It's not right to blame everything on them. Lara and I both had our mistakes today.

Hanging my head, I move to close the safe when I hear glass breaking in the living room. The buzzing in the air intensifies and I grab both artifacts and throw them into a pillow case. I don't know what possesses me but I open the window and put it on the fire escape. It's like they're talking to me in a way that only I can understand. It's not the first time I feel this tightness in my chest, but it's the first time I realize it's the skulls doing it. It reminds me of her.

I grab my purse and listen at the door. I can hear two men talking. I ignore a surge of panic and rush back to the safe. Roth's - our pistols are still in there. I grab both of them and load one. My hands are shaking. This is different from the jungle. This is our home, and I'm alone again. Guess I really do have to learn not to rely on Lara. Which is good I guess, but this feels different from Victor.

The last thing I want is for her to come home and find me dead, or worse. Especially after a fight. If it was me I'd never forgive myself. One of the guys starts to open the door to our room so I throw my shoulder against it and manage to slam it on his fingers. He's pissed, which gives me an advantage, right? If I'm thinking clearly and he's not? I hear him kicking at the door and back away. I should go out through the window, but I don't have time to decide before he's in. I start shooting, and he makes a sound so maybe I hit him but now he's between me and the window. I charge past him and into the hallway. There's his buddy and I dive low, tackling his legs and then kick up off the ground to run for the front door.

He grabs my leg and I crash onto the coffee table. I roll off of it and try to aim at him. For only the second time in my life I'm shot and this hurts a hundred times more than the last time. I should really just fold over and give up but I don't. I dig deep inside myself and run into the kitchen. He shoots at me again. My mac and cheese has burned and when I duck out of the way he shoots up the stove. Flames explode up to the ceiling and my shirt catches fire as I'm knocked into the counter. I pat it out with a dish towel as I run back towards the bedroom. His partner is trying to get up and I kick him in the face, then slam the door behind me and try to barricade it. I shove over a bookshelf, then push the bed against it.

Smoke is starting to drift in and I don't think I have much time. I grab a backpack and stuff everything I can think of into it. Some clothes and money, my wallet and our passports. Our laptops, as well as as many of Lara's notes as I can find. I grab her father's notebook too. Of all the things in this apartment that I can't buy a replacement of, that's the number one thing. I also grab my camera bag, with all my SD cards. I need to get out of here but I'm not going to leave my camera behind! Priorities right?

There's only one more thing I can think of to grab, and that's a photo album under the bed. I probably shouldn't waste the time or the space, but there are pictures we have that we took the old fashioned way and you can't buy those things. Nearly everything else in the apartment can be bought again, but the memories and Lara's research can't be. My arm aches as I pull it out and throw it into the backpack. The entire time it's like a timer is running out in my mind, like those time bombs in old movies.

It takes almost too long, because I'm hauling ass out of the window when those men break down the door. Smoke billows into the room and I feel a bullet graze my leg as I tumble onto the fire escape. The pillowcase with the skulls is still there. Good, this is good. I'll have a mental breakdown later, but at least I'm holding it together. Right now I have to get down before they can catch me.

They're close on my heels by the time I make it to the ground floor, but even with two overloaded packs I'm a lot faster than them. I take a corner and put more distance between us, breaking into a sprint and running like the devil himself is chasing me. When I finally look back, they're gone. I slow my pace and lean against a wall. I'm winded, my throat burns and my arm would feel better if I cut it off right now but I'm alive.

I pull my purse out of the pack and search for my phone. I need to call Lara and warn her away from our apartment, but that's not going to happen. There's a bullet in it.