This is a rewritten chapter.
The next hours found Lara retracing her steps across the island. Her thoughts however were on the dead agent, and the answers she never got, but still needed. As she became more worried and frustrated, the faster she moved; so, after covering five miles in half an hour, she settled on her next move... getting distracted till something presented itself; and she had what was needed to help with that distraction - somewhere: Evan.
The male in question was, at the moment, with Serge, and about three dozen former French Foreign Legionnaires trying to keep up with her. She was mildly amused, but finally grabbed Evan by the wrist and pulled him behind her like a child, "Come on," she sighed as she took his hand, and squeezed, "Let me help you... poor baby."
"Ah mum," he gasped, "The other fellas will tease me. They'll call me a 'Lara's boy'."
She smiled, "Are you?"
"Till the day I die - fate willing - smothered in your bosom."
She smiled at him, and shook her head "Such a charmer... really."
Serge just grinned in mild amusement.
The rest of the Frenchman's men - two hundred fifty in all - were busy incinerating everything that wore Solari colors, prepping huge tents, conducting bomb disposal on unexploded World War two ordinances, and digging up the Solari loot... for Lara.
"Please be sure to get as much money from all this. Toru Nishimora is getting sixty percent of everything, and I'm giving my share to the families of all those who died."
Serge smiled, "You are very kind, but Toru has waved his percentage. He talked to my boss. He was offered ten times his initial investment for the discovery of his daughter's whereabouts, but refused. He said he would consider it a dishonorable act to make a profit from such misery; however he has nothing but the utmost love and respect for you for both saving Samantha, and bringing peace to their ancestor. From my employer, you have... well... an embarassment of cash - to start off."
"I have no need... "
"Oh that is already yours - all two hundred fifty million Euros for avenging Madeline - scattered in thirteen numbered accounts in Switzerland, Sweden, Ireland, Scotland, and two hundred saving accounts in ten different banks holding one hundred thousand each in the U.S.; and yet that, I and these men, are not even a token of his gifts to you. I will let him tell you the rest."
She smiled, "Thank God, I can divvy all that up among the families of the lost crew quicker. Help with getting their lives back to normal."
Serge just gaped at her in astonishment, "Yes you... could... give it away."
She smiled wider, a tiny weight lifted from her shoulders, "thank you."
They continued on, the morning sounds of birds, ancient wind chimes, and roaring surf crashing into the reefs and wrecks were intermittently interrupted by automatic rifle fire, and the hollow roar of flamethrowers erupting... followed by the snap, and pop of fire.
The sound brought a slight grin to Serge's face, "Don't you love the smell of roasted pigs?"
They ultimately managed, with the help of a Huey helicopter gunship, to reach what was left of the stronghold overlooking the charred remains of the burned shanty town.
Lara gripped Evan's hand as they passed the bodies.
"Merde," Serge growled and spat on a half-burned Solari flag, "not worthy of wiping a pigs ass with, any more than they are worthy feeding to pigs."
A large, still blood soaked, torn, dark grey overcoat blew across their path.
Lara suddenly turned and buried her face in Evan's chest, recalling the blond Russian who had tried to end her, and ended up being blown apart by a fallen grenade launcher... she suddenly felt the full weight of her exhaustion.
The assassin held her gently, and stroked her head, "You need to rest 'L'," he whispered, and turned to Serge, "She hasn't slept in two days. Shes been staying up for me."
Lara turned to the concerned Frenchman, "I'm not sleeping without him, I can't. I don't sleep soundly without him. Strange, since I always wake to find him..."
"In peril," Evan added as Lara paused to yawn.
"No," she said, "only that time in the hotel. The time in Osaka I woke to find you watching the tele, and ripping and chewing a football jersey..."
"Watched Manchester vs Sydney. I didn't want to wake her, so I stuffed my old jersey in my mouth. It was needed. Damn ref couldn't drop a single card against those... "
"And the time on the ship..." she continued undeterred by his mutterings
"Boat" Evan corrected.
Lara raised an eyebrow at him, grabbed his face, and kissed him deep, pulling away as his hands began to descend toward her hips, "Can I continue?"
He smiled at her,"Vile seductress," he wheezed as she gripped his buttocks again.
She giggled, and shook her head, "So smooth."
A tall, muscularly huge native African of some thirty odd years, dressed in black fatigues, and carrying a SAW machine-gun as if it were a Nerf gun, strode up to the three, "Serge! We found something," he said in Ugandans accented english; then, for a moment, just stood and stared at Lara.
She blushed.
"Sorry mademoiselle," he said after an awkward moment.
"Please," she said softly,"You flatter me".
He smiled, then glanced at Evan, and a look of profound disbelief crossed his face, "Carter?" he gasped.
"Jean," The Brit said and smiled.
"You were saying you found something?," Serge asked pointedly.
"Stonehenge... well, sort of, maybe,... here," the big man answered, looking away from Evan.
"Real committed to this assertion are you?" Evan laughed, "or did you just google 'circle of real big rocks'?"
"Go look, smart ass," the giant challenged, "look over the front ramparts at that clapboard shit-hole you torched - excuse me mademoiselle."
Lara rushed for the ramparts, the walls facing the destroyed bridge she had crawled under to save her friends, looked out at the still smoldering remains of the shanty town.
Just under the destroyed main wall, and gate, was clearly seen the central mound of a perfectly circular, gently sloped hill. The twenty yard wide base of this hill was surrounded by a much wider, protruding outer ring which reached into the adjacent cliffs. The outer ring was marked at even intervals by massive, rectangular rocks: some half a meter high, some higher, some partly buried.
Lara smiled as she turned to Evan, "THIS is worth a look, come 'James', this ought to prove... educational."
"Great, I'll bring my highlighter. I just love private tutoring."
"Just bring that perfect ass, so I can keep an eye on you." she sighed playfully.
The two other men snickered at him as Lara walked toward some descending climbing ropes.
"Laugh it up," Evan muttered to them over his shoulder, "I'm not the one sleeping alone tonight; unless you two have come to some great personal truths I haven't been privy to."
"And if we have?," Serge challenged.
Jean stared at his boss, mouth agape.
Serge turned and looked at the giant, "I was just saying..." the Frenchmen began to explain, then just shook his head, "Never mind!"
"Ah, come on! Don't run away from your feelings," Jean joked as his boss strode away.
...
Thirty minutes later, Lara stood at the edge of the outer ring, studying one of the stones. She had Evan take several pictures with it using his cell phone, then downloaded them to Alistair. Ten minutes later the young assassin received an intel stream on his tablet.
"Well?" Lara asked after waiting patiently for an agonizing three minutes.
Evan typed in a command, then turned up the volume, "Initiate verbal recognition protocol, command directive: Carter, Evan James."
Lara stared at him, stammering in disbelief, "You're kidding me... your middle name... is James?".
He shrugged, "Did I forget to mention that? Woops. An awkward silence ensues."
"You wish. I'll just call you 007... or Bond." She grinned.
"Lovely, Your ladyship," he sighed, and smirked
"Protocol initiated," came the flat spoken response from the tablet.
Evan leaned into Lara's ear, kissed her, and whispered, "Say 'I'm Lara'."
Lara cocked an eyebrow at him, "I'm Lara?" she asked.
"Aren't you certain?," a young British man's voice inquired from the tablet.
Evan rolled his eyes, "Meet Alistair... er the voice activated AI interface to the computer that we named Al. That smart voice is a private joke from Zip: it's the voice of my best friend from Cambridge... I think."
"Carter, you poor twit," the voice responded, "what have you done now? Have you suffered some head trauma? Forgot this 'friend' stole your car?"
Evan smiled, "an all too perfect copy... be nice you hopped-up toaster."
"Hello Alistair," Lara said with a smile, "what have you got for me regarding this rock?"
"The stone is indigenous to western Europe, England, Scotland, Ireland. This piece was quarried and cut; judging by its degree of weathering, given the frequency of rain in the region, as well as the location of the stone in proximity to the sea... I set its age of implanting on the island to be around one thousand twenty years, give or take a month or two."
Lara flashed a picture of Evan, "And THIS indigenous English rock... any girlfriends?"
Evan grinned, and shook his head, "Tell her."
"Evan James Carter: twenty-five; born of English, Irish, Scottish decent. Girlfriends? Are you kidding? Here are just a few examples of the responses from his earlier 'attempts' at relationships from Facebook, twitter, and random chat pages: 'as smooth as coral'... 'thank God for those abs'... 'amazing lay, up till he pulled out to watch a replay of a penalty kick'... 'WHO THE HELL IS ZIP?! IS THAT A PET NAME FOR HIS...'"
"I get it!," Lara laughed, "Sorry," she told Evan, "I was joking."
"Alistair,"Evan called out, "Open all files regarding me to Lara - her eyes only." he winked, "no secrets from you."
She just stared at him, "Ditto, you nutter."
"Should I que up some Coldplay for the lady?" Alistair said.
Lara smiled, "Doing research?" she asked her lover as she kissed his mouth.
"actually that was me..." Alistair interjected.
Lara lowered the volume as she and Evan wrapped their arms around each other, and continued kissing.
The sudden eruption of applause from above roused the two from their temporary heaven.
Serge, Jean, and thirteen other men were standing on the upper platforms, watching them.
"Research huh?" Jean shouted, "I really need to take up archeology."
Evan blushed, and stuck up his middle finger.
The fifteen men erupted in a fit of laughter.
Lara began laughing into her kiss, until they slowly parted.
"Et tu beautiful?," he sighed as he kissed the tip of her nose.
She grabbed him by his shirt, and blew her lips against his chest before kissing it, "Ten hours and counting... James." she whispered.
"Ten hours, forty-three minutes, ten seconds," he corrected with a mock growl.
"So brilliant," she moaned playfully, "Now get me a water."
"Nag, nag, OW!" he rubbed his buttocks, "That hurt 'Steel Fingers'!"
"Poor baby," she laughed.
He feigned tears, "That's it... we're eloping." He effortlessly lifted her over his right shoulder, and began striding about the ruins, "Where to get hitched... hmmm... somewhere 'me'... hmmm... Ahhhh! I got it!"
"Oh no!" she cried, "Please don't say it! Oh you Casanova!"
"hmmm?" he sighed with a smirk.
"Ahhhh! FINE! Where else? 'Vegas here we come!'" she screamed.
"Ok," he said, "I was thinking The Cayman Islands; but if you want Vegas."
"Oh you liar!" she screamed, then began laughing uncontrollably, and slapping his buttocks.
The men watching stood and smiled at the pair, then slowly returned to their respective tasks.
The two lovers didn't notice as Evan spun her around until Lara whispered,"Ok ok, stop the ride... please."
He set her down on unstable legs, and held her about the waist till she stood steady.
She shook her head to clear it, then looked about at her feet, then into the inner circle. Some thirty-one yards from the mound, where the smoldering remains of a Solari structure stood adjacent a tower, she noticed the earth and ash disturbed, from the center of an untouched field of grey ash: one set of footprints appearing from out of nowhere.
She walked over and suddenly stopped, "a trap door," she whispered, "Get Serge."
Evan whistled as Lara found the edges of the seven by three-foot metal hatch, and pulled it open. What she saw thrilled her: a huge open space, hundreds of feet deep; and a long, steep, narrow stairwell leading down, wrapped around a single stone pillar; so, pulling out a portable flashlight, she began her decent.