Lara sat staring at the wreck of the Endurance after she and Evan had set up trip wires, claymore mines and other traps around the old beach camp. They had also studied Boris's corpse and found a few curious things... scars, carved into the flesh, made in the shape of Celtic runes, and apparently made... post-mortem - roughly six days ago. What they had joked about, but never one hundred percent accepted, was true: Boris had been dead the entire fight; and had not felt a single thing they did to him - he couldn't. Still, there was one thing that contradicted that: his lustful reaction to her body.

The looks he gave her, his playful behavior were all too evidently the behavior of a reasoning, conscious man; one very unlike the man she fought on the Endurance. This was not mindless reanimated shell, and it wasn't a reawakened Boris. What the hell were they dealing with?

They found these scars all over the massive corpse: on his palms, neck, and what remained of his face. Lara finally recognized one of them from her father's studies of ancient Brittain. They were exclusively used in Celtic 'resurrection' ceremonies intended to summon the heroic dead to defend the land. Her dad's indulgence in just one more myth; or so she thought: Necromancy, the art of raising the dead. Who were these people?

Evan seemed willing to go along with this insanity in stride, and retrieved the pack from where he left it on the tower, and picked out a few choice 'toys.'

The sun was setting by the time he had got back, made a massive pyre, burned all other corpses on the beach, and tossed incendiary grenades at those he couldn't reach.

Lara watched him as she stretched out on the sand and thought of all they had done, and where it might go.

She still knew next to nothing about him, all that she knew for a fact was that part of her wanted this, needed it, and it was THAT part that had had him, latched herself willingly to him; and had given herself to him without hesitation - she was now starting to wonder why she was still so mad for his touch; what must he think of her?. She wasn't like this... before.

He dropped his khaki shorts and his dress shirt on her legs.

She looked up at him - and almost fell back.

He was dressed like a Solari corpse, "The legs of those shorts might be a little loose, but your hips are comparable to mine; just roll the leggings up, and wear the belt in the holes of the shorts for your waist. Sorry for having you dress like that before. It was primarily to see who we were dealing with. I wanted to hopefully distract this guy, give you an edge; but it was also to lighten the mood a bit. I should have been more..."

She pulled him down to the sand and kissed his mouth closed, "You Solari never shut up," she sighed, "it was fun, and distracting. I needed it HERE. I need you here. Please, don't apologize."

"I'm glad you say so, I expected nothing less but pure class from you 'L'; but still, it was childish of me, and you are so wonderful to be so tolerant of all my b.s., among all the other things. This cannot be easy for you."

She smiled as she stood and pulled the shorts on, then rolled up the thighs to keep them from taught. "No, but you make it tolerable. " she grew self-conscious, "About whats happening here, my... libido." she began, a little anxiously.

He tied her shirt around her ribs, and blushed slightly, "No need to explain, I was being juvenile, you were in a..."

"Please,"she sighed and fixed him with her eyes, "I need to say this. I don't EVER behave like that normally. I am just so... embarrassed by my behavior. I've never been so... well, aggressive, with anyone before. I just don't want you to think I'm... ." her voice trailed off as she looked away, blushing bright red

He smiled kindly, and lifted her chin till she looked in his eyes, "Staggeringly beautiful beyond words, while remarkably humble, and genuinely kind and sweet? Your shit out of luck 'L'. That judgement stands. Never apologize for just being human. I mean, look at these dead fuckers... they never cared about being inhuman. Um...wait - that's a real bad example.."

She giggled, smiled, and kissed his cheek.

He grinned happily, "What a girl. Your even sweet to a living dead Solari."

"Only cute ones," she sighed as she checked her guns.

"Don' t be so hard on yourself 'L'. All it is... is stress, and you need to get it out of your system; and damn my unbelievable luck, here I am."

She smiled shyly, "Maybe at first that was all it was... I just want... never mind. I'm being silly. You must be..." she all but whispered

He kissed her bowed head."In awe of you. You don't even know how special you are. You see someone who got people killed; I see someone who saved lives, and did so at the risk of her own life. A true hero."

"Stop teasing me," she sighed.

"I'm not. You are amazing. Even by the standards of this sport we play. I have been eyes deep in some of the worst places man can call home; and even by those standards, such AS Burma, This place IS Hell. I can think of no other in the world for a young woman to have to endure. I for one cannot fathom how you are not in a fucking straight jacket given what you were undeservedly put through, and are continually being subjected to. You have nothing to be ashamed of Lara, NOTHING. I would be fucking mental if I began this way of life the way you have. You are simply put: a Wonder. I have nothing in me but amazement at you, and cannot understand why the likes of me gets to receive such an honor as being with you here, let alone with you as I have been. Do not ever apologize for doing me the honor of counting me as a lover. I can..."

She kissed him, "Point made; thank you. I may be falling for you; but you prattle on like my father did when he was going on about Arthur and the Knights of the Round Table, and all that."

He smiled.

She caressed his dirt and blood covered cheek, "Hate your new look by the way. You are normally so cute. Why are you playing zombie?"

"You don't like it? Man! Here I thought every other guy on this rock was just going fucking nuts to wear these outfits."

She laughed, and kissed him again, "Very funny... WHY?"

"I had a friend of mine look up those symbols; you were right, they are Celtic, used in the resurrection ceremony. The only thing, that differs between the story your dad told you and the symbols on the corpse, are they are backward. The original intent is to draw the spirit of the corpse back to the body... the reverse was ment to draw the spirit of another to the corpse, one bearing matching markings, only the one who 's soul is re-animating the corpse has the symbol right side up on their body. Boris was a remote-controlled drone. Thus far he has only seen you. I can hit him from behind if he sends any more friends your way."

"Who is your friend?" she asked astonished, "we found that symbol thirty minutes ago."

"My 'friends' name is Alistair: a super computer that is continuously being fed information via the web, research groups, and radio band broadcasts. He configures data so fast, he can tell you where, and how many potential threats are aware of you, and where they are in relation to you given that any wi-fi device is used, or any surveillance attached to the web is in use. Needless to say I owe him my life."

"Can I have him over the flat to chat, say over tea and cakes?"

He smirked, "I knew you went for brainy types. You hurt me once more Croft..."

"Poor undead baby," she whispered and searched for a clean spot to kiss him, "I'll make it up to you... when we get off this hell."

"Deal. Now let's get you properly kited. A earpiece should do nicely. I'll follow just within range. Leave flares every few yards, make it easy to be tracked, but not too obvious. We want to draw him out, and wear his toys out till he has to restock. In the mean time, lets find the fuck."

"What if he called for back up?"

He nodded, "You would think he would. Not according to Alistair. I had him monitor all in and outgoing signals from this island the night you told me about it."

"Instinct?"

"Greed," he insisted with a smirk, "I bet an old friend twenty euros you had in fact discovered it. Poor bastard."

She smiled as she strapped the holsters to her thighs, "Another computer?"

He pulled the Kriss Super V from the bag, and handed it to her, "Maurice thinks he is."

"Maurice? Hmmmm. Never saw you as a friend of any guy named Maurice. Too high-class for a beer swilling, hired gun like you cowboy."

"He prefers, oddly enough, me to call him 'Zip'. Says it's what he wants me to think before I ever think of bad mouthing another Peter Jackson 'masterpiece' 'Zip It!' He is just as vocal about the Hobbit, to quote his text when Legolis showed up... 'blasphemy' needless to say, don't bring up ''Game of Thrones', unless you have a week to kill."

"Thanks for the warning. I do like brains...," she started, wrapping her arms about his neck, "Mmm... but your SMOOTH ways are just so hard to give up."

"Such sarcasm. You are sooo funny - you cruel, cold aristocrat. That is it. Lady Croft, I refuse to be your sla..."

She kissed him slow, wet, long, and deep... for three minutes straight, "You were saying?" she sighed softly.

"Whip me, beat me, make me write bad checks..." he moaned into her smiling lips.

"A good start, but I need more. Tell me, can you cook?"

He smirked.

She shook her head, "Oh no... don't say it."

"Hmmm?"

"Right, you want me to - again. Hmmm... Oh! I got it - he he: 'I can bake up just desserts, and stuff pies to bursting with my home-grown twig and berries.'" she sighed, imitating him.

He stared, gape mouthed at her, then grinned as she blushed beet red.

"Oh no," she giggled, smiled and shook her head.

He roared in laughter,"'L', you are... Ha ha ha. Oh mother."

She smiled. "Praise from Caesar, I take you were going somewhere along those lines?"

"Not so innovative. Thanks for the praise by the way. Needless to say you continue to give me one profoundly swelled hea..."

"Anyway!," she interrupted, blushing crimson, "please change the subject; I only have so many fresh nickers."

He was speechless... "Right, I was... just mentioning... what again? "

She smiled, "Thank you... your friend, Maurice?"

"Right, back to Zip. He he... Geek doesn't begin to describe him. Honestly he is a fucking genius, legendary chef, and horrendous shot. He designed, built, programmed, and upgrades Alistair. He also designed, and built this - the 'rope pistol... thingy'" he pulled out the grapple gun prototype.

She smiled, "How thoughtful," she sighed, "the device that scared you shitless... for me? Really, you shouldn't have."

He smiled, and shook his head.

She laughed, "I'll stick to the bow, thank you Mr. Guinea pig. But I can see how it can come in handy... like getting your ass back to bed when I get randy, and you run off. Galahad."

"I've done it... I've created a perfect wise ass. Mum would be so proud" he muttered."Well my lovely protégé of puns... where to first?"

"I like our chances of finding him in the shanty town, and if not, we'll have plenty of places to spot his... what did you call them? Toys? Not very original."

"Nag, nag, nag. Zombie doesn't fit now does it. Do you prefer very ugly corpse-muppets?"

She smiled, "Just get ready to follow."

"Good luck finding this Hogwarts graduate, lets hope he wasn't top of the class,"

"I always liked Hermione myself." and with that, she left him to chase a necromancer on an island of the heavily armed, fresh corpses of men she, herself killed; and one she only wished she had.