Lara Croft and the Spear of Destiny
Lara Croft fiction by Sarah (Scrisman@juno.com)

The legalese: This story is written for the sole purpose of having some fun at certain other people's expenses. Tomb Raider, Lara Croft, and her likeness are all (c) EIDOS Entertainment, 1996. Mike and BJ, however, are not copyrighted at all, which is good, because they are both real people. Or real strange, if you want to look at it that way. All other relationships to persons or events are merely coincidental, and not meant to be taken as canon, or anything so profound as that. If something in this story sounds just like you, don't worry. Chances are, you were only hallucinating at the time. Unless you believe in the Infinite Improbability Drive...

*WARNINGWARNINGWARNINGWARNINGWARNINGWARNINGWARNINGWARNING*

The following story is presented for only those readers who are 18 or over (21 in some places; you know who you are) because it depicts acts of sex, large amounts of violence, and some nudity. If you are uninterested in this sort of thing, then don’t read this story. If you don't want to read this, then why is it on your hard drive?

And please remember that, even though I write for the heck of it, I welcome all comments, since I hope to be a writer some day. PLEASE e-mail me with even a brief comment about the story (i.e.: "Sarah, liked your Tomb Raider story"). This is probably the only way you will see more.
Oh yeah, this story is the sequel to a story I wrote a little while ago. I would read that story first, as it will fill in much of the background details that I may not rewrite for this one. Enjoy! ;-9

* * * * * * * *

Lara lept nimbly from ledge to ledge, taking her time, keeping her balance perfect as she worked her way up the mountainside. This climb was no different from all the others she had been on before. She glanced down at the ground that was at least 100 feet below her, and it made her dizzy with anticipation. Lara was turned on by danger; she relished it in the same way that most other people loathed it. And now, after the climb, and almost being to the top, she was wet with excitement.
She stepped to the edge of the ledge she was on, grabbed a hand-hold and a foot-hold, then began the hand-over-hand climb to the next ledge that was about ten feet above her head.
And then, suddenly, she was slipping. Her booted foot caught on a patch of ice, and she grabbed the mountainside for support, but the motion of her slipping foot was too much, and it overbalanced her. Arms flailing, Lara tumbled down the mountainside, the barest remnants of a scream escaping from her throat. She crashed across rocks, their sharp edges opening up incisions in her skin. Her nose and lip were both bloody from where her head had collided with a rock face-first. She continued the tumble until she slammed into a powder-covered boulder. It drove the breath from her lungs and she heard her back snap. Then all went quiet as she swirled into the darkness of pain.
Lara's broken, slashed, and scraped body slid off the boulder and landed in a snowdrift with a slight poof as it disturbed the freshly fallen cottony whiteness. At first, the heat from her body and the warmth of the blood which was spilling from it melted the surrounding snow. But soon, the cold overcame the heat, and small patches of the falling crystals began to cover her. The blood running from her nose quickly froze, adhering to her face as though glued there, but she barely felt it as the last vestiges of life escaped with her final breath.

* * * * * * * *

Mike sat straight up in bed with a gasp. Sweat furrowed his brow, coated his T-shirt to the point of making it translucent, and soaked into his sheets. His hand rose to his temples, the fingers burrowing into his skin, trying to make the headache go away. Just make it all go away.
But it would not.
He tossed the sweat-laden bed clothes off his body and stood up, flipping on his light as he did so. He turned on the ceiling fan and let the soft, cool air flow across his body as he covered his eyes with his hands. Damn dreams.
He reached out with one hand and took the telegram off the dresser. He looked over it, no longer needing to read it. He had memorized every single curve of the typewritten letters, every single space between the words. And they all hammered into his brain with the sound of a hundred rushing waterfalls. It couldn't be true. It just couldn't.
Slowly, he let the paper fall from his fingers. It floated on the currents of air until it landed on top of a computer magazine with a picture of Lara on it.
The words on the telegram kept forcing their way into his thoughts.
Lara dead. Come to England. Funeral in one week. Lord Henshingly Croft.
"No," Mike whispered, as though denial would change the earth. "No." No matter how hard he had cried before, the tears had just kept coming. It wasn't possible. Lara couldn’t be dead. And he wasn't even with her when it happened. And although he had no idea how it had occurred, he assumed that the dream, the same damn dream over and over again, was probably a pretty close match. The tickets on the dresser were for a plane flight, non-stop, to England. It left that morning. The telegram and envelope with the tickets had arrived three days ago. How long had she lain in that snow before someone had found her? Was it a human who found her first? Or an animal? Would the casket be closed like they sometimes did with soldiers or police officers because her body had been too torn up to-
"Stop it!" he hissed at himself. "There's nothing you can do." And that made him even angrier. But, angry or not, that did not change the flight schedule for the plane tickets. And they were non-transferable, non-refundable. If he did not leave on the plane that morning, he would never see Lara again. Or what was left of her, the grim part of his brain snapped. Squeezing his eyes shut at the thought, he laid down again in bed, determined to grab what little time to sleep was left before he had to get up again.

* * * * * * * *

Mike stared out the window as the plane took off from the ground. He said a silent prayer for Lara, hoping that she was alright, wherever she was now. He hoped that it was better than here on earth.
"You off to someplace important?" the man in the seat next to him asked.
"What?" Mike turned his head to look at the man. He was dressed in a business suit with a long candy-cane striped tie.
"Are you from England?" the man asked. "Or are you just on vacation?"
Mike gulped. "Funeral for a friend," he managed.
"Oh, no kidding?" the man said. "Were you very close to him?"
"I loved her," Mike confided. "She was everything I had ever wanted. And now she's...gone."
The man nodded slowly, and placed a reassuring hand on Mike's shoulder. "Look, believe me when I say that she's in a much better place. Earth stinks like shit compared to what comes next."
Mike nodded and turned his gaze back out the window. The clouds were several hundred feet below them. But as he looked at them, they only reminded him of the white snow on the mountain where he kept dreaming that Lara fell and-
Suddenly sick for some reason, he got up and staggered to the bathroom.
"Are you alright?" a passing flight attendant asked, but he ignored her and pressed into the small cubbyhole that passed for a bathroom on the plane. And he threw up as the image of Lara lying, freezing, in the snow, her last ounce of strength moving her hand out of the snowdrift so that she could be found slammed into his consciousness. Finally, throat dry-heaving, and the bile settling down for the time being, he stood up shakily and splashed water on his face from the sink.
He stared at the reflection, which was so unlike himself that he laughed. The Mike Crisman in the mirror had large, dark circles under his eyes from lack of sleep, red streaks from the tears that had come from his eyes, and a lack of breath from vomiting. That Mike Crisman was one terrible-looking bastard, he decided. He took a paper towel and wiped as much of the foul-tasting stuff off his lips as he could, cleaned his face once more, flushed the toilet, and composed himself. Now he looked just as airsick as your standard passenger. He unlocked the door and walked slowly back to his seat. It wouldn't be long now, he told himself. Not much longer.

The plane touched down on the runway, jiggling the passengers a bit, and taxied to a stop. Mike allowed most of the plane to empty out before taking the bag from under his seat and walking off. Once inside the massive Heathrow Airport, he got his bearings and headed for the luggage transport. When he got there, he was surprised to see a tall, aristocratic figure holding his suitcase. The man was beginning to gray around the temples, Mike noticed, and his mustache had a line of silver running through it, but it took nothing away from his stature. If anything, it added to his air of wealth.
"You are Michael, I presume?" The man stuck out his hand, waiting for Mike to take it.
Mike nodded, dazed, then took the proffered hand and clenched it loosely.
"I am Henshingly Croft," the man said, letting Mike's hand fall from his. "Welcome to England."
Mike nodded. "Pleased to meet you, Lord Croft." He bowed slightly, now fully aware of who he was talking to. "You don't need to carry my suitcase; I can handle it."
Lord Croft shook his head. "No, this time, the pleasure is mine." The two walked to customs where Mike's spirits sank. The line for check-in was incredibly long, stretching down the hall as far as he could see. "We'll be here forever," he said, shoulders slumping.
Lord Croft shook his head again. "No, my lad." He walked with Mike right down the side of the line to the metal detectors. The guards turned to chastise the two line-breakers.
"No line cutting unless you're in a wheelchair or-" The first guard broke off. "Sincerest apologies, Lord Croft.” He bowed slightly. “This gentleman a guest of yours?"
Croft nodded. "He is, sirs."
The guards ushered them on through. Mike didn't get his passport checked, his luggage x-rayed, or any of the usual airport inspections that happened to everyone else. Rather, he and Lord Croft were let by without another word, and they walked to the front gate.
"How did you do that?" Mike asked as they reached the doorway. "Customs is normally really picky about Americans."
"Royalty and wealth have their privileges, Sir Michael," Croft said. "Please, my car is this way." Croft walked off towards the parking garage, Mike trailing behind him.
"Lord Croft, I don't mean to sound foolish, but don't you have a driver for these sorts of things?" Mike asked, feeling foolish nonetheless.
"Normally, I would," Croft admitted. "But the seriousness of the situation made me reconsider it. Besides, it does me good to refresh my driving every once in a while, and to get to know you better. So you will feel more at home here."
They reached the large gray limousine, and Croft unlocked the doors with his keyring. The trunk popped open, and Croft set Mike's suitcase inside before closing it and getting into the driver's seat. Mike went to the back, but Croft motioned him to take the front passenger seat. "Please, you are my honored guest."
Mike thanked him, then sank into the seat next to Lord Croft and looked out the tinted windows as Croft started the car and moved out skillfully into the busy English traffic. "How did you know about me?" he asked finally.
Lord Croft sighed with a memory. "The story is long of how I felt about my daughter. She was born to aristocracy, and I felt that she belonged with the upper-crust of English society. But when she began to go out on her own to those terrible places looking for those little bits of junk, that was the last straw, and I disowned her. I did not remove her from my will, however, and when my wife died, Lara received one third of the family fortune. She will inherit the rest when I pass away."
Mike listened as Lord Croft told his story.
"Yet, even though I disowned her as my daughter, she always kept in contact with me. Her most recent letter talked about you, and the feelings you shared for each other. At first, I was appalled that my daughter would fall in love so frivolously, and with someone who was not of aristocratic blood. But when I calmed myself, and read her letter again, I read something I had never read before. She had found someone with whom she could enjoy being with. Lara had always been a loner, and for her to have found someone she shared time with was very unusual. After reading that, I decided that my daughter was growing up after all. I had hoped that perhaps you could have dissuaded her from that line of adventure."
Lord Croft choked back a tear. "But apparently, she did not find you in time, as the report from Nepal confirmed."
"Lord Croft..." Mike began. "How did Lara...die?"
"The search team that recovered her body seemed to think that she fell while climbing a mountain," Croft reported. "Her back was broken, and her entire body was lacerated from the fall. I am not sure what to expect at the wake tomorrow."
Mike shut his eyes. The dream. The damn dream. It was real. He had watched her die, and he was unable to stop it. God damn it all! he swore. Damn it all.
The rest of the trip was spent in silence. The limo pulled up to the Croft Manor, and several doormen helped Lord Croft and Michael from the car. A porter took the luggage from the trunk, and a maid showed Mike to his room.
"Dinner will be at 6pm prompt, sir," she said. "Roast venison, I believe. Hunted by Lord Croft himself."
Mike nodded. He wasn't very hungry.

* * * * * * * *

There was a knock at the door, and Mike stirred in the bed groggily. He fumbled for his glasses, put them on, and looked at the doors. "Come in," he said.
Lord Croft entered, closing the door behind him. "Good morrow, Sir Michael. I trust your sleep was restful?"
Mike nodded. "Yes, thank you, Lord Croft." He got up from the bed and slid into his slippers. "Why up so early?"
"It is almost 7," Croft replied. "Surely, you jest?"
Mike decided that now was not the time to explain to him that early for him meant noon. "Yes, I was just joking." Mike turned glum. "Are the preparations made?"
Croft pulled the drapes back from the windows. "Yes, and in an hour, we will be over at the wake house to view my daughter." He did not turn, and Mike could tell he was fighting a choke in his throat. "I loved her, you know."
"Yes, Lord Croft. I loved her too."
Croft walked to the door, still not facing Mike. "Sir Michael, I shall be in my chambers if you need me. Please get dressed at your earliest convenience. We shall leave as soon as you feel ready." He walked from the room, closing the massive wooden doors behind him.
Mike quickly dressed, making himself as presentable as possible, and walked down stairs. He was ushered into the limo by the driver of the car, and soon he and Lord Croft were on their way to the wake house for one last look at Lara.

Mike looked at the body in the casket. If his dream was any indication of the condition she was in after she fell, then the workers had done a good job with cleaning the body. No blood was on her nose, nor running from the scrapes which no amount of makeup could fully conceal. Mike stared at her lips, then bent slowly over and kissed them softly. Something inside him hurt when they did not kiss back, but he held this in check as he moved aside to allow the others to take their last look as well.
The piano played in the background as Mike listened to several people who knew Lara fairly well gave their elegies of sorrow, and he saw Lord Croft openly weeping now, unable to control his emotions any more. Mike tuned it all out for a moment, taking the time to recall his most fond memories of Lara: the kiss on the sandy slide, her naked body sliding against his, the strength behind her mouth as they kissed, the force of her breathing as she came under him, the final moment in the cave when Chen'e brought her back to life, and they had kissed once again. He suddenly longed to be back in that cave again. Holding Lara close to him. Protecting her, and she protecting him as well. It was so perfect.

Two hours later, the wake was over. The funeral was not to be for another two days yet. Two days, and then she would join with the earth. Mike couldn't believe it.
He and Lord Croft sat in silence on the way back from the wake house. The trip was uneventful, and Mike retired to his room shortly after they returned. He climbed into his bed and fell into an uneasy, dreamless sleep.

* * * * * * * *

The sound outside Mike's door startled him awake. A glance at his watch, after hitting the Indiglo button, indicated that it was 4am. It was the slight sound of footsteps across the floor.
He slowly got out of bed and padded his way over to the door in his bare feet. The footsteps continued for a moment, then stopped. Mike slithered over to the fireplace that was in the massive room and picked the loaded pistol off the top. Lord Croft always kept a gun in each bedroom, and he had shown Mike where the one in this one was. He moved back over to the door and waited for the footsteps to pass before he cracked the door and looked out.
The moonlight from the ballroom skylight illuminated a small figure moving through the house. Mike emerged from the room and followed the figure until he was right behind it. Then he cocked the gun. The figure stopped at the sound.
"Freeze," Mike hissed, aiming the gun at the form. "Don't even think about breathing, or I'll shoot."
"Michael? Is that you?"
Mike dropped the gun to the floor. It landed with a soft thump in the plush carpet. "L-Lara??"
The figure turned to face him, and as the clouds receded from the moon, it was illuminated. Lara Croft, in all her dazzling beauty, stood before him. "What are you doing here?" she asked. "How did you get in here?"
"Wait a fucking minute," Mike said. "You died. I saw you. What are you, a ghost come back to haunt me?"
"They must've found the body," Lara mused to herself. "I'm very much alive, and very physical. Come on over here. I'll prove it to you."
"I don't think so," Mike snarled. "You tell me something that only Lara would know about me."
"Um...OK, give me a minute," she said. "I haven't gotten any sleep for three days now, so my brain is a little foggy."
"Let me help," Mike said. "When we went exploring in that cave, where was it located?"
"Um...McCormick's Creek," Lara said.
"What state?"
"Indiana," Lara replied.
"And after we killed the alligator, what happened?"
"Now who's kidding who?" Lara asked. "Mike, you know darn well there wasn't an alligator in there. Now, are you satisfied that it's me?"
Mike nodded, then ran to her and embraced her warmly. "Lara, oh God, we thought you were dead. What happened?"
"Shhhhh!" Lara warned. "I don't want daddy knowing I'm here yet. Let's go to my room. We can talk there."
"OK," Mike said. He followed her down the hallway, through an archway, down a second hallway, and to a large set of doors. She produced a key and unlocked them, then swung them wide.
"Everybody in," she declared. Mike scurried in, then Lara closed the doors and locked them behind her. She flipped on the light switch, revealing a room even larger than Mike's guest room.
"God, I feel like hell," she said, flopping down on the bed. "Of course, three days without sleep will do that to a person."
"Where on earth have you been?" Mike asked.
"Thinking about you," Lara replied. "I'll tell you later." Without warning, she leaned over and kissed him. The sparks that flew to his brain informed him immediately that this was indeed the real Lara Croft.
It took about five seconds for them to lose their clothes to each other's probing hands. It took perhaps another seven seconds for them to inch under the covers and pull them up around them. Their mouths locked for what seemed like an eternity while Mike alternated his hand from one breast, to the other.
Lara was breathing heavily, and he inched his mouth down her front, kissing her chin, neck, collarbone, shoulders, and sternum, then moving his lips and tongue over her breast, causing the already stiff nipple to get even harder as she squirmed under him. He kissed and sucked it for several minutes, causing her to have a slight orgasm, then traded sides and worked on the other one.
She took his erection in her hands and massaged it gently, rubbing it across her lithe body much like a dancer moving across a stage. She shivered again, and Mike brought his mouth back up to hers. Their tongues intertwined while his fingers danced down her stomach and into her crotch, gently rubbing her lips and feeling the moisture as she began to open up for him. Just a few moments now.
She grabbed his lower lip with her mouth and sucked on it as his finger continued to caress her most intimate locations. Her right hand massaged him while the left one held him on top of her. Then her tongue met his and they were again kissing like two people who were dying of thirst and had just come upon a water fountain.
They reversed positions suddenly, she taking the top while Mike laid on his back. His hands now embraced her and held her to him as she slid herself over him with all her usual delicacy and sensuality. The results were astonishing. Mike pressed into her as deep as he could go as she allowed gravity to do the work for her, pressing up and pushing down all controlled by her knees. She knelt up, exposing her bare chest for him. His hands found her breasts again, and caressed them lovingly and tenderly, making the pink tips harden again under his touch.
They reversed positions again, putting Mike back on top. Lara was moving faster at this point, and Mike could tell she was anxious for the release. She had been giving small orgasms for the past few minutes, but it was now time for the real thing. He spread her legs apart and began to finger her clit, causing Lara to pull him closer to her so she could kiss him and muffle the sounds she was making. Mike made her come with another small orgasm before entering her fully again. This time, he was ready to explode though, and he had only to wait a few moments before Lara felt the same. She ground her hips against his as they made love under the covers, and finally, when Mike felt he could hold out no longer, Lara squeaked into his mouth, through both their tongues, and he knew she was building up for the grand finale. It took only seconds more as they moved together, the rest of the world gone. The only thing that mattered now was the two of them. Time had stopped as far as they were concerned.
Lara shuddered first, then continued to thrust against him as he released, pumping against her pelvis as though his life depended on this one moment. Finally, he heard her sigh deeply into his mouth as she shut her eyes and shivered again and again, her warm juices spilling out of her and coating his erection.
The two lay there together in the bed, arms wrapped around each other, kissing passionately for another ten minutes before Mike laid down next to her. She reached up and flipped a switch on the wall, casting the room into darkness once again, and they both fell asleep before they realized it. She still hadn't explained what had happened to her, and why she was not dead after all. But Mike didn't care anymore. He had Lara back, and he loved her, and she loved him. That was all that mattered. Love was all that mattered anymore.

* * * * * * * *

The light shining through the massive window in Lara's room was hitting Mike directly in the eyes. He woke up, then stopped moving as he became aware of the arm that crossed his body. Lara's arm. He smiled to himself, flashes of that morning popping into his mind. She wasn't dead! He wanted to sing about it, write volumes of poetry about it. Write about how she loved him.
But right now, he was rather sticky. He moved her arm off of him, then slowly got out of bed. He threw on his pajamas, the T-shirt and shorts he always wore to bed, and walked off in search of a bathroom.
He was about to leave when Lara stirred in the bed, and opened her eyes. "Hey, where ya going?"
"Find a bathroom," Mike replied. "I gotta take a shower."
She sat up, the covers falling off her frame. "Well, there's one right over there," she said, pointing to a large door. "But if you wait a minute, I can help you conserve water."
"How's that?" he asked, watching her toss the covers off of her and slip over to him.
"Well, two people in the shower takes half as much water, no?" she grinned slyly.
"Depends on what they do while they're in there," Mike replied.
"Only one way to find out." Her lips caressed his briefly, then she walked through the door. He followed her through, and closed the door behind him. Soon, the sound of running water was unmistakable.

Mike walked into the hallway first, at Lara's insistence, to check for Lord Croft. He found him in the parlor, still distraught. "Good afternoon, Lord Croft," he said.
"Nay, this afternoon is not good, Sir Michael," he confided. "For I have much to prepare for before the funeral."
"Not as much as you might think, Daddy," Lara said, walking down the winding, carpeted staircase into the room.
Lord Croft's jaw fell. "By the eyes of my grandmother, I see you, but I cannot believe!"
"It's true, Lord Croft," Mike said. "It's really Lara."
"This must be the evil spirits playing some trick on me," Lord Croft insisted. "Just last day I saw you in the coffin!"
"No, Daddy," Lara said gently. "Let us all sit down, have a sip of tea, and I can explain everything."
"Butler!" Lord Croft boomed.
The butler appeared in seconds. "Yes, Master Croft?"
"Bring us a plate of tea and crumpets, and summon the chief piano player! This is cause for celebration, for my daughter is home and alive!" He watched the butler turn on his heel and exit the room, then turned to Mike. "How right you are, Sir Michael. 'Tis quite a good afternoon indeed!"
The butler returned momentarily with the tray and just after he left, the piano player took his seat on the bench and lightly warmed up before starting Pachebel's Cannon in D.
"Now, daughter, pray tell how it was that you come to us here, today?" Lord Croft asked.
Lara nodded, sipping at her tea. "Very well. I shall tell the story..."

* * * * * * * *

Lara struggled to reach the last ledge of the cliff side, and pulled herself up. She sat there, gulping in air from the high altitude. She was a little light-headed, but she knew that, in time, it would pass. She stood up, pulling the heavy cloak around her for protection. The cold up here was fierce, but her clothing warded most of it away before it caused her serious discomfort. And then, she looked at the cavern. The dark hole in the mountainside beckoned her inside.
She clicked on her flashlight and played it around the entryway. If her guide had known what he was talking about, and she had been translating correctly, this passage should lead her right to the bracelet. She stepped inside, and was barely ten feet through the opening when a cruel voice laughed in her direction.
"Greetings, Lara." It was a voice full of malice, unmistakable hatred. "So nice to see you again."
Lara twirled, throwing her light on to the location of the voice. The man she illuminated was a pale-skinned individual, in his early twenties, with slightly receding black hair. His smile showed several missing teeth. His right eye was covered with a patch, and his right arm was twisted in a most unnatural fashion. Give him a peg leg, and he could pass for Captain Hook, Lara thought to herself.
"Who are you?" she asked, not showing any fear.
"Oh, come now, Lara. Surely you remember who I am. Think about it."
Lara's mind raced, then she looked at him again. There was no way... "Duncan?" she asked.
"Ah, so nice to see that you recall my name," the man sneered. "I am surprised. After all, you were the one who caused me to look like this."
"That's not true!" Lara said. "The rope got cut on a sharp rock, and you know it!"
"Bullshit!" Duncan spat back. "You cut it with that damn hunting knife of yours."
"That's the bullshit," Lara said. "You were my partner, Duncan. Why in hell would I have tried to kill you?"
"Because, you greedy little bitch, you always wanted all the glory. You wanted to find that damn stone, and claim all the credit for yourself. You even told me that before we left! You said you wanted to get the credit!"
"I said it would be nice, but I also said that it would be good for you to come along!"
"So where's your partner this time, Lara? Did you kick them off the mountainside? Poison their water? Shoot them with your own gun?"
"I work alone now, Duncan. I don't have a partner."
A shadow moved, seeming to come out of the wall, and grabbed her arms, holding them behind her back. "What the hell?" she screamed in alarm.
"Well Lara, even if you no longer work with partners, I have found some rather nice ones." Duncan walked up to her. "They are so sweet when placated. Meet my new friends. I call them the changelings, but you can call them whatever you want." Duncan laughed as Lara struggled against the powerful arms locking hers in place, preventing her from drawing her gun.
"You see, Lara, they can take on the form of anything they've touched. They could be you..."
At this, Lara stared at another creature who appeared as though from the walls. It looked identical to her, right down to the pistols on her belt.
"They could be me," Duncan continued. The creature in front of Lara shifted until it became an exact duplicate of Duncan. It was impossible to tell the two apart.
"They could be, oh...your guide?" Duncan said. Again, the creature morphed into an exact replica of Lara's supposed guide. Duncan sneered at her.
"What do you want from me, Duncan?" Lara asked. "I don't have the bracelet yet. You know that."
"I could care less about the damn bracelet!" Duncan shouted at her. "I want you to look exactly like me, Lara. I want that face missing an eye. I want that arm twisted and useless. I want your body to be so completely numb that for the next five months you have to relearn how to piss. Just like I did. And then, I want to kill you."
Lara's heart raced. What was this maniac talking about? "Duncan, I swear to you that was an accident! The rope got cut on the rocks! Hurting me won't take that fact away!"
"No, I will never be the man I was," Duncan mused. "But I can take all that away from you. Maybe maim a leg, or smash all the nerves in an arm. You'd never be able to go exploring again. And that would kill you, Lara. Lack of adventure would kill you."
The creature, the changeling holding her, morphed into a duplicate of Lara. It growled a low, guttural growl.
Duncan approached the two of them, and suddenly Lara relaxed herself completely. This threw the changeling off guard, and she overbalanced it, tossing it over her shoulder like a sack of potatoes. It slammed to the ground, knocking the air from its lungs.
The second creature, morphing into Lara as well, dashed at her, but Lara gave it a brutal roundhouse to the jaw that sent it staggering out of the cave. Blinded with rage, it ran towards what it thought was Lara, but it was disoriented, and it went in the wrong direction. There was a great howl as the creature hurled off the edge of the mountain, slamming into the rocks on the way down, before landing on a boulder, sliding off, and being buried under several inches of white snow.
Duncan stared at her, then pulled his knife and charged at her. She rolled aside, but not in time to avoid the blade as it opened a gash in her side, and foot-swept him, causing him to crash to the floor in a heap. She grabbed his knife and threw it off the mountain, then dashed for the ledge and began the climb down.
"This is not over, you bitch!" Duncan screamed from the ground. "We'll make you come to us, and you will! You'll come of your own free will, do you hear me? Because I know where it is! And I know how to find it!"
Lara froze in her descent. "What the hell are you blabbering about?" she shouted at him. "You must've hit your head harder than I thought!"
"The Spear, Lara! I have the fucking Spear!" His laughter ringing in her ears, Lara inched down the slope, but as she reached the bottom, the pain in her side became too much, and she dropped the remaining fifteen feet, landing softly in the cold, wet snow.

When she awoke, she was in a small hut, being attended to by a motherly figure. "Good morning, late sleeper," the woman spoke in her native tongue.
Lara cleared her thoughts. "Where am I, kind madam?" she asked back.
"My home. I found you virtually on my doorstep and brought you inside. You had quite a nasty cut, but I took care of that."
Lara rose. "I have to get back," she murmured.
The woman pressed her back into the cot. "No, you need to eat. You've been asleep for over a day." She passed a bowl of stew over to her and urged her to finish it off. When Lara had done so, the woman eased in her matronly manners.
"Thank you for the soup, madam, but now I must go." Lara stood, pulling her parka around her, and left the hut.
"Late sleeper!" the woman called after her. "You must take this with you!"
Lara turned to see the woman holding up a small object. Curious, she walked back and took the item in her hand. It was a tooth, but Lara couldn't identify what it came from. "What's this for?"
"Protection, late sleeper. Protection." With that, the woman shut the door. Lara wandered off into the impending blizzard, not looking forward to camping out in the sub-zero temperatures.

Lara staggered into the city, half frostbitten from the harsh weather. She had not stopped to sleep because she knew she would freeze. Her feet dragged on the concrete beneath her as she headed for the small airport. "Ticket to England," she asked the reclining figure in the small kiosk, forcing her formerly frozen vocal chords to work.
"4000 diner," the man replied lazily. Lara paid, and within the hour she was on the first flight into England.

* * * * * * * *

"I snuck into the house," Lara said. "I didn't want to wake anyone up, but apparently Mike heard me anyway. He helped me to my room, and stayed watch over me while I slept."
Mike flushed as Lara bent the truth slightly, but Lord Croft did not notice.
"So they recovered only a doppleganger?" Lord Croft asked. "And not my daughter after all? Wonderful news! You must stay now for dinner!"
Lara shook her head slowly. "No, Daddy. Mike and I have to leave today."
"Leave? Where are you going?" Lord Croft asked.
"France," Lara replied. "I've got an artifact to locate. And I need Michael's help to do it." She looked at him. "You will come with me, won't you?"
Mike gulped, but then gathered himself and stood up. "If you ask, I'll do it," he declared.
"Wonderful!" Lara squealed, gathering him into her arms and kissing him. "Get packed. We've got a French vacation coming."

Mike sat on the plane, feeling much better on this trip than he did on the one before it. Lara sat in the seat next to him, a Walkman on her ears, listening to The Verve Pipe. Mike turned back to the laptop on the fold-down tray and resumed the Duke Nukem 3D game he had started. Then he paused the game and looked out the window again. The fact that Lara was slightly humming the song did not interfere with his thoughts. Why did he have that dream? What caused it? Lara didn't get killed there. It was only a creature of some kind. And who was Duncan? She had told the story in the house, but there were still questions that he wanted answers to.
"Lara?"
Lara clicked the stop button and looked over at him. "Something wrong?"
"No, but I do have some questions."
She shifted so she was looking at him face-on. "Alright. I guess I should have explained earlier."
"That's OK," he replied. "I just want to know about a couple things, that's all. Like who Duncan was."
"Duncan...is someone I thought I would never see again," Lara admitted. "When I first started my archaeological expeditions, Duncan was my partner. He was a friend from my grade school, and he was always into that sort of thing. We were hunting a large diamond in a cave in Africa. I tossed the grappling hook up the cliff, and tested the weight. Then I went up first, with him behind me. The only thing I didn't realize was that all the time I was climbing, the rope was rubbing on a sharp stone. I reached the top before I realized it, and then it was too late. The rope snapped, and Duncan fell down into the ravine. I never heard him hit the bottom. I figured he was dead, and even though I was sad, I kept going. I got that diamond for Duncan, because I figured he would have wanted it that way.
"But Duncan must have thought that I deliberately severed the rope to keep him away from the diamond. And after I found it, and brought it out, he was never mentioned in the news, except to say that he had fallen in the cave. And apparently, he resented the fact that I had never gone looking for him. He was seriously injured, but didn't die. How he survived, I'll never know. And now, he is jealous of me. And instead of being my partner, he is now my enemy. And he has the Spear. Or at least he knows where it is."
"That's my second question," Mike said. "What is this Spear that everybody keeps talking about?"
"The Spear of Destiny," Lara said. "The weapon used by the roman soldier who pierced the side of Christ. Because it was coated with his blood, it holds great power, and the person or army who carries the Spear with them is unstoppable."
Mike gasped, wide-eyed. "THAT spear?" he asked with a whisper.
"The same," Lara confirmed.
"Wait a minute, what if this Duncan guy already has it?"
"I've been thinking about that," Lara replied. "I'm sure if he already had it, he wouldn't have said what he did on the mountain. He's baiting me, trying to draw me someplace."
"Then this could all be a trap," Mike said. "We could be playing right into his hands!"
"Possibly," Lara said. "But what if he really knows something? I can't pass that up. The Spear belongs in a museum, not in the hands of a private collector or somebody who will misuse it."
"Yeah, but Lara..." Mike broke off the argument. It wasn't worth it. She was set on it, and there was no point in trying to dissuade her from it.
"Mike, if you don't want to go, just tell me and I'll give you enough money for a ticket back to America."
"Don't be silly," Mike said. "If you're going somewhere, I'm going with you. I'm not gonna be having dreams like I was having for the next few months while I worry myself over you." And besides, he added in his thoughts, I'm not gonna turn down the chance for another bit of action if the opportunity presents itself. Anybody who would do that was a fool.
"Thanks," Lara said. "For a minute there, I was afraid you would say no and then I would have to sell my supplies." She smiled. "Anything else?"
"Don't think so."
"Alright. I'm gonna settle in for some sleep. It's awfully dark out." She dropped her seat back and pulled the pillow from the compartment above her head. Mike propped it under her head, then did the same with his seat and pillow. The two were sound asleep for the next hour while the plane journeyed to Paris.

* * * * * * * *

Lara maneuvered the motorcycle through the crowded streets of the city, weaving through traffic at a rather unnecessary speed, Mike thought. He didn't know how fast exactly she was going exactly, since they were measuring in kilometers rather than miles, but he figured that Lara was breaking the limit by at least 40 kpm.
Finally, after almost getting sideswiped by a gigantic double-decker bus right outside the Arc de Triumph, they got out onto a country road and Lara opened up full on the accelerator, tearing down the road faster than Mike had ever driven in a car. If this bike tips over, he thought to himself, my head will be fine because of the helmet. I'm not going to care though, because the rest of me is going to be spread out over a five-mile radius down this road and into all the fields near it. He gritted his teeth and grabbed Lara's waist tighter. She didn't seem to mind this, and even if she did, he could have always proclaimed that he was doing it because she was going so fast.
Lara slowed the cycle outside the gates of a large mansion, then parked in front of the gates and punched a button on one of the massive brick pillars which held the fence together, then spoke into the speaker. "Jean-Paul, c'est Lara. Est-ce que vous ici?" (Jean-Paul, it's Lara. Are you here?)
A moment of silence followed by a sharp static crackle and a very French accented voice replied. "Lara? Oui, je suis ici! Entre, entre!" (Lara? Yes, I'm here! Come in, come in!)
The gates opened without a sound, and Lara and Mike climbed on the motorcycle, sped through the gates into the massive driveway, then disembarked in front of the mansion while the gates clicked shut behind them.
A man in his late thirties burst from the front door of the house and ran towards them. He was dressed in a long flannel shirt and a pair of Bermuda shorts. He and Lara embraced, kissed each others' cheeks per the French greeting custom for old friends, and then turned to Mike.
"Lara! C'est tres bien! Pourquoi est-ce que vous avez ici? Quel est le problem?" (Lara! This is wonderful! Why have you and your friend come here? What is the problem?)
"Jean-Paul, I need your help," Lara said, this time in English.
"Oui, I will help you! What do you need? Money? Name it, and it is yours! Anything I have is also yours, you know that." This was also in English. Jean-Paul apparently, was at least bi-lingual. "And who is your friend?" he asked, looking at Mike.
"Je m'appel Michael Crisman, un bien ami de Lara," Mike replied. (My name's Michael Crisman, a good friend of Lara's)
"Vous etes francais?" Jean-Paul inquired. (Are you french?)
"Non, mais je parle un petit peu de francaise. I'm American, actually." (No, but I speak a little bit of French.)
"Your accent is perfect," Jean-Paul admired. "Well, a friend of Lara's is a friend of mine! Welcome to my home!"
He ushered them into the gigantic house, then closed the door. "Now, what can I do for you?" Jean-Paul asked.
"What do you know of the Spear of Destiny?" Lara asked.
Jean-Paul laughed heartily. "Never one for small talk, were you, Lara?" he asked. "It's the spear that Cassius, the roman legionary, used to pierce the side of Christ, causing the blood and water to spill into the Holy Grail. Why, are you after religious artifacts now?"
Lara kept her face serious. "Duncan thinks he found it, Jean-Paul. And I have to stop him."
The Frenchman gasped. "Duncan? But he died in Nairobi! You told me yourself!"
Lara shook her head and relayed the tale of her journey through Nepal and the encounter with Duncan and the changelings. "He's not dead, Jean-Paul. And he knows where the Spear is."
"Now, wait a minute! From what you've told me, it doesn't sound like this guy knows anything. He just was trying to bide time. If you follow him, you're setting yourself up for a trap."
"But what if he does know?" Lara demanded. "Jean-Paul, I need to know where to start!"
"Excuse me," Mike asked. "Where is your bathroom?"
"Down the hall that way," Jean-Paul motioned, before turning back to Lara. "I really think it's best if you just ignore this. Duncan is crazy." The voices became muffled as Mike moved into the bathroom. But as he began to close the door, a small trail of liquid which trickled out from under a door caught his attention. Mike crouched down and dabbed a bit on his finger, then brought it to his nose. He suddenly realized what the sticky, thick, red fluid was. He slowly twisted the door knob and stepped into the room. Then he stopped. What his eyes were seeing didn't make sense. Jean-Paul, or at least a twin of him, was stuck to the wall with a large poker from a fireplace. The blood from the floor was dripping from the large gaping wound in his chest. His entrails were wound around the poker, and his heart lay on the table next to his body. Several other major internal organs were missing altogether. The expression on his face was one of utter horror, and Mike could only guess at what had caused his death. Then, covering his lips to keep the bile in his throat from coming into his mouth, he exited the room, closing the door behind him. What was going on here? He didn't know, but he was sure that Lara needed to know. He walked down the hall until he reached the corner and heard the voices again.

"No, Jean-Paul, I think Duncan knows where it is!" Lara argued. "Why can't you even consider that as an option?"
"Because it's all bogus," Jean-Paul countered. "Honestly, if he had it or he knew where it was, do you think he would have told you? Be rational, Lara. This one is a fake."
"You don't know that," Lara said. "I'm certain that he knows where it is!"
"Think back to your fight on the mountainside!" Jean-Paul said. "All he wants to do is kill you. That's why he stabbed you with the knife. What if you hadn't dodged aside?"
Lara suddenly stared at Jean-Paul and was speechless.
"What? What's wrong?" Jean-Paul asked.
"How did you know about that?" Lara asked softly, her hand moving to her side at the thought of the injury. "I never told you about the knife wound."
"It was obvious that you were injured," Jean-Paul said, but he was a little nervous. "From the way you were walking, I-"
"You what?" Lara interrupted. "That happened four days ago. And there was no scar."
"But-"
"And even if I was walking funny, how would you know it was a knife that caused the wound?" Lara pressed. Her hand went to her side, drawing the pistol from her holster.
Jean-Paul's face suddenly seemed to scrunch up in agony, then there was only a black shadow where he stood before. "Because I was there, you bitch!"
Lara gasped. A changeling!
Mike burst into the room. "Lara! We've gotta get out of here! They're here! They're-"
The black shape lunged at Mike and grabbed him, holding a single black talon to his throat. "Great timing, Michael who speaks a little French. Here's a bit more French for you. Tu es morte. You're DEAD!" It reared to strike, but Lara's gun spoke, smashing the hand into a bloody mess. It sank to the ground in agony, holding the stump of a hand with the other clawed appendage.
Mike ran over behind Lara and cowered. "Lara! Jean-Paul. He's...dead."
Lara stared at the creature before her. "What are you, and why are you here?"
"Duncan has the Spear," it spat in pain. "And he wants you too. Go back to the United States. You'll find more information there." It stood up, staggering from the loss of blood.
"Wait," Lara commanded. "Tell me more. Where is Duncan?"
The creature ignored her, instead reaching into a bag next to the coffee table.
"Talk or you're dead!" she ordered.
It hissed at her. "Then I'll see you in hell," it snarled. It's remaining arm held a grenade. It pulled the pin with a single finger and laughed as it dropped to the floor.
Lara acted faster than she ever had before. She grabbed Mike and charged, shoulder first, at the massive window at the front of the house. The glass shattered outward as she dove through it, Mike pulled behind her. Her arm was covered with cuts, but she rolled with Mike into the ditch outside. Only milliseconds later, the house erupted in a tremendous fireball, scattering debris, wood, and glass into the air.
The two covered their heads as best they could while the bricks and wood rained down around them. But when the hail stopped, and they checked themselves, Mike only had a massive splinter in his behind, and Lara the cuts on her arms from breaking through the window.
"I've never seen a grenade that could do that," Mike said, staring at the burnt-out remains of the house.
"There was probably an entire arsenal in there," Lara said.
Mike looked at her and was about to say something when he saw...were those tears? Lara was crying. He walked closer to her and put his arm around her shoulder. "Are you OK?"
She turned to him and put her arms around him as well. "Jean-Paul was a good friend," she said. She sniffed. "I just...can't believe he's gone." She looked up at him. "What happened to him? You said that he was dead. How?"
"Best you not know right now," Mike said, remembering the sight of the real Jean-Paul impaled into the wall. "It was a quick death though," he lied.
"Thank God for that," Lara said. She held him tighter.
"Lara, do you want me to do anything?"
She shook her head. "Just hold me for a minute."
"I could-" he started.
"Just hold me," she interrupted.
And he held her.

* * * * * * * *

They sped into the airport on the motorcycle. It was nighttime, and the terminal was fairly dead. Lara walked to the counter and placed an order with the attendant there, then returned. "The earliest flight to the US they have is Noon tomorrow. Everything else is booked."
"Wonderful," Mike sighed. "Did you put our names on the waiting list?"
Lara nodded. "Yeah, but there were about thirty people in front of us. The chances of us getting on an earlier flight are pretty slim." She sat next to him. "You know, this wouldn't be the only time I've slept in an airport."
"My first time," Mike confided. And, seeing as how before he met Lara, his plane trips had consisted of twice to Florida and once to North Carolina, it was understandable.
"It's not so bad, really," Lara commented, stretching herself across three chairs and putting her head in Mike's lap. "Just as long as you have something soft to rest your head on." She shut her eyes.
Mike looked down at her, and saw the red streaks from where the tears had coated her face. She had cried then, cried for the better part of an hour while he did nothing but hold her. Now he was pissed. He didn't care who this Duncan character was before he pulled this stunt. All he cared about now was finding him and stopping him so he couldn't hurt Lara anymore. He pulled off his jacket and laid it across her body as a sort-of blanket, then leaned his head back and found himself dozing in and out of sleep. A restless sleep, but sleep nonetheless. And this time, there were no dreams.

Mike awoke to the sounds of moving bodies. A glance at his watch and some quick mental calculations told him that it was 8am here. They had slept for almost 10 hours. He looked at Lara, still scrunched up in the chairs, head still on his lap, the jacket clutched tightly in her hand as though she were holding onto it for dear life. He tried to go back to sleep, but couldn't. Something was gnawing at his mind. It was those damn changelings, he realized. They could be anyone at any time. Watching him and Lara, making their little reports to Duncan. If they had gotten to Jean-Paul, then they could get to anybody else. Maybe even Lara. He shivered at the thought, and the movement woke the sleeping form up.
"Mmmmm...Good morning, Mike." She still laid there with her eyes closed, but Mike knew she was wide awake.
"Good morning, sleepy-head," Mike said. "You had a long nap."
"Long enough," Lara muttered, sitting up. Mike felt a sense of loss for some reason as she lifted her head off his lap, but he did not share this. "Where's the coffee?" she asked, getting to her feet. She trotted over to a small kiosk that was selling cappuccino and bought two cups, then returned to the chairs with the steaming hot mixture. She handed one cup to Mike and kept the other for herself. "Now this is the reason to come to France," she said, sipping at the cup. "The coffee is magnificent."
"Lara, who was Jean-Paul?" Mike asked.
"Jean-Paul was the person who took me in after daddy disowned me. He helped me get enough money to start my exploration days, and he provided me with my motorcycle."
"Are we going back to the US because that thing said it would be a good idea?" Mike asked.
"No," Lara replied. "Although that is a good reason, I had something else in mind."
"Are you wanting to get BJ?" Mike asked.
"No, I think we'll leave him out for a while. I want to get back to my house."
"You have a house in the US?" Mike asked.
"You don't think I live in homeless shelters while I'm there, do you?"
"No, but I just thought that there were hotels that you could-"
"Hotels don't have what I need," Lara said. "You'll see." She finished off her coffee.

Noon came faster than Mike realized, and soon they were once again airborne. They gained five hours on the trip back, so it was 10 am by the time they landed. That was disorienting. Take off at noon, arrive at 10. Mike hadn't adjusted his watch in France, so he knew exactly what time it was. They disembarked and Lara led the way to customs. She flashed her passport and, just like Lord Croft at Heathrow Airport, was ushered past without even a single question or x-ray. Mike followed, figuring that he should just keep his mouth shut, but when they were out of earshot of the inspectors, he decided to speak up. "Alright, your dad could do that at Heathrow, why can you do it here?"
"All the custom's people know who I am," Lara replied. "I have an international permit to carry firearms onboard a plane, and the supplies I take with me are occasionally vulnerable to x-rays. After the first couple times, they stopped asking questions and let me through."
They claimed their baggage, then headed for the parking lot where Lara selected a key from her pocket, inserted it into a Mercury Grand Marquis, and unlocked the doors and trunk, threw in their suitcases, and drove off.
"Is there anywhere you don't have connections?" Mike asked.
"Most of the smaller airports." She looked at him. "We're in DC. My house is in Virginia. We've got about a two hour drive ahead of us, so go ahead and sleep if you want to."
Mike nodded, settled down in the seat, which was more comfortable than the airport seats, and fell into a light sleep.

He awakened to a loud "Shit!" from Lara. He sat bolt upright. "What's going on?" A crunch from the rear bumper jarred him forward. He was glad for that seatbelt.
"Duncan's friends just caught up with us," Lara said. The car lurched again as the massive vehicle behind them rammed their bumper. "They're trying to run us off the road!" Holding the wheel with one hand and digging in her satchel with the other, she pulled out the uzi and wound down the window. "Here, drive."
Mike unsnapped the seatbelt and hopped into the driver's seat while Lara hung her top half out the window. "Where the hell are you going?"
Snarling at the car behind her, Lara unleashed a hail of bullets at it, shattering the glass of the window, but not hitting anyone.
A shotgun stuck itself out the window and the roar made itself heard over the wind rushing by her ears as the shot slammed through the back window, smashing it to pieces.
Lara ducked back inside, then popped out again, firing at the car. One of her bullets found a front tire, and the car twisted crazily as it blew. The vehicle behind them slowed significantly, but not enough to get away from it yet. "Change lanes!" Lara hollered. Mike obliged, moving into the left lane. "Now hit the brakes!" Again, Mike complied, causing the tires to squeal.
The car came roaring by them, and Lara was ready. Taking the target in her sights, she sprayed the gas tank with a murderous hail of lead. Their car ground to a halt as the other car sped about fifteen feet, roared into a gigantic fireball which continued down the road for several seconds before a massive explosion flipped it end over end off the road and into a ditch.
She plopped through the window, into Mike's lap, and then into the passenger seat. "Come on, let's see if anything's left."
They exited the car and approached the inferno that the other vehicle had become. Lara examined it from a distance. A blackened shadow-form lay in the ditch several feet in front of the car, having been thrown through what was left of the windshield. It was missing a leg, but even at this distance, Lara could ascertain that it had not been human. "More damn changelings," Lara muttered. "Let's get outta here."
They returned to the car and Lara drove them away from the scene of the wreckage.

* * * * * * * *

When they pulled up to the gates of the house, Mike exhaled sharply. This place was fucking huge! "Lara, is this YOUR house?"
She nodded, opened the gates with a hidden remote control, and drove through. They slammed shut behind the car. "All three floors," she smiled. "What do you think?"
"I like it," Mike managed. The windows were fabulous, the brick gleaming. The gates were sparkling in the sunlight. Everything was perfect. "How did you get enough money to-"
"Build it?" Lara finished. "One of the museums I did a job for a year ago financed the construction. I made up the difference with the royalties from the journal I published."
They stopped the car, and got out. Lara walked to the front door. "Now, I still haven't finished unpacking everything yet, so there will probably be some crates around. But that is OK. I can use them to practice. And I can't wait to take a dip in that pool."
"You have a pool in there?"
"And a Jacuzzi," she blushed. "Maybe that was overdoing it..." She unlocked the door and walked in. Everything was just the way she remembered it. "Here, let's get the bags in, then we can just relax for a while." They walked back to the car, got the suitcases, and brought them inside. She locked the door, and then sank into a Laz-E-Boy chair. "I'm pooped. Traveling can take a lot out of you."
"Yeah," Mike agreed, seating himself on a love seat across from her and propping his feet up on the coffee table. "Even when you're not trying to dodge some evil bastards who are intent on running you off the road while you're suffering from jet lag."
Lara giggled at Mike's sarcastic-yet-humorous tone, then fell silent again. She got up and adjusted the thermostat, causing the air conditioning to snap on. The cool air on the hot travelers felt quite good, and for several minutes they sat in silence, simply thankful for the brief rest.
Finally Lara stood up again. "Well, I don't know about you, but a swim sure sounds good right now."
"Now you're talking!" Mike said, bounding up from the love seat. He didn't want the swim so much as to see Lara in her swimsuit.
He followed her down the hall and was entering behind her into a room when she slammed and locked the door. "No perverts," she giggled from the other side. "I can change clothes by myself just fine, thank you." She laughed again.
Mike wandered with his suitcase into a nearby room, threw his clothes off, got into the shorts, and walked out into the hallway again.
The door to Lara's room clicked open and Mike's jaw dropped. If Lara looked good in her body-hugging shirt, she looked absolutely ravishing in her bikini. It resembled a training bra, except for the fasteners in the back. Between about an inch below her breasts and her waist, there was nothing. When his eyes hit her waist, there was a strip of elastic resembling that of a pair of panties, but that is where the resemblance ended. The cloth that barely covered her crotch was a dark blue color, and if it was any smaller, Mike wouldn't have needed an imagination.
"You're drooling," Lara told him, walking up to him and shutting his mouth.
"Sorry, can't help it," Mike said. "You just look so...sexy!" That word didn't even begin to cover it, but it was a start at any rate.
The smiled. "Thanks. Follow me, the pool is this way." She walked down the hall, her bare feet not making any noise on the hardwood floor, her hips swinging slightly, perhaps even more than they did when she was in her explorer's shorts, Mike thought. Then they reached a small opening in the wall where Lara pushed open a simulated wrought-iron fence and walked into the pool room.
Potted plants were everywhere along the walls, but the center of the room was the main attraction. The pool was huge, covering at least 2/3 of the floor space. There was a diving board on one end, a small set of stairs descending into the water in the shallow end, and two ladders leading out of the water in the deep end.
"Well, what do you think?" Lara asked.
Mike simply could not believe his eyes. "This place is magnificent!"
"Good." She walked up to him. "You're the first person, besides myself, to have seen the pool." She moved even closer and put her arms around him. "And I'm the only one who has ever been in it," she told him. "I want a guy in there with me."
"No problem," Mike said, knowing that his erection was completely obvious through the swimsuit as Lara pressed up against his body.
"Wonderful!" Lara said. "Let's start by having you test the water." Without warning, she hefted his entire 177 pound frame off the floor and hurled him into the water.
The icy blast that struck Mike as he splashed into the pool was almost brain-shocking, but in seconds it settled down. He swam up from the bottom and gasped at her. "What...what the hell was that for?"
"How's the water?" she laughed at him. "I noticed you were getting a little hot. I thought this might cool you off."
Mike growled silently to himself. Then he got a very devious idea. "Actually, it feels great!" he told her, putting all his energy into making the facade work. "You always keep it heated like this?"
Lara frowned. "I thought I turned off the heater. Oh well..." She backed up a step, then ran forward, leaped from the side, arced her body, arms over her head, and dove in like the most graceful swan Mike had ever seen.
Mike laughed as she thrust herself up from the bottom as quickly as she could. "This water is freezing!" she sputtered, staring at Mike. "Where were you raised to think this is warm, an igloo??"
"Do unto others as you'd have done to you," Mike recited. "Now we're even." He noticed her nipples straining against the top of her bikini. Maybe I'm a point ahead, he told himself. The fabric got thin enough in the right areas that he could barely make out the pink behind it. He settled back and enjoyed the view as she slunk through the water as nimble as a fish, and it reminded him of the time in the cave when they had to swim for their lives to get out of the room with the crushing walls. And after that, they had-
A gigantic wave of water washed over him, completely wiping his trail of thought from his head. "What the hell?" he asked. Lara was floating on the top, whistling to herself. "Oh, you think you're so cool, huh?" he told her. "Eat this!" His arm sluiced water at her, but she inhaled sharply and disappeared under the surface before the splash hit her. Mike blinked, trying to get the excess water from his eyes. He opened them, but Lara was nowhere to be seen.
He found out exactly where she was when the shorts he was wearing suddenly slid off his legs. He looked down to see Lara grinning evilly at him from underwater. Smirking, he grabbed her arm and pulled her to the surface. "Give 'em back, Lara."
"Or what?" she sneered.
Mike kicked with his feet and suddenly she was backed against the wall of the pool. "Or else this," Mike told her, kissing her on the lips.
Surprise gave way to pleasure as she returned the kiss and felt his hands disappear behind her back. In moments, the bikini top was floating away from them on the waves they were generating.
They ducked under the water and kissed, as she smoothed her hands through his hair and he untied the string holding her bikini bottom to her body. It sank to the bottom of the pool slowly as the two kissed full-tilt. Their hands explored gently and delicately while their lips remained locked. They surfaced for air and Mike pushed her into the deep end, holding her close to him while he paddled with his feet. They reached the far edge, and were under the diving board. Mike stroked her legs while she held him against her, letting him slide in and out of her slowly. His hand teased her nipples while she spread her legs farther. He put his feet over hers, feeling her toes clench with each small thrust he gave.
She dunked his head suddenly, causing him to slide out of her, and she held him down. He found himself right at the level of her crotch, and she opened her legs to allow his tongue access to her most intimate areas. Mike couldn't believe it. Even through the chlorine, he could still taste her. He stayed there for a few seconds, then surfaced for air, kissing her, letting her taste herself from his mouth to hers. They repeated this little game several times, each time she keeping him there a little bit longer, then letting him surface. His fingers traced her swelling breasts tenderly, and she caressed him with her lithe fingers, drawing him into her once again. Mike held her against the wall of the pool as he pushed.
Lara felt the familiar sensation starting in her legs, then working up to her knees, then her waist, hips, and it kept rising. She held him close to her, not wanting to take the chance that she would not come, and at the same time, wanting to feel him do the same. The feeling was in her tummy now, working its way up to her breasts.
Mike resumed caressing her chest, and when the feeling hit her nipples along with his fingers, the sparks generated ignited a stream of gunpowder that shot the pleasure directly into her spine, which in turn fired it into her brain. Her body shook with the small orgasm, and she kept hugging Mike to her as the first orgasm kicked off a chain reaction of new orgasms, each one stronger and more intense than the last, until Mike finally released into her and she felt her body explode with the final climax, shuddering intensely, moaning into his mouth for several seconds until the fireworks in her head stopped popping.
They stayed locked in that position for a few more minutes, then parted. She smiled at him. "Thanks. I needed that before our next mission."
The job! Duncan! Mike had forgotten all about them. "Shit," he swore, retrieving his floating shorts and pulling them over his legs.
Lara tied her bottom piece, then hooked her top and climbed out of the pool. "Yeah, remember the Spear?"
Mike nodded, wishing that for just one time, they could do that and then go to bed immediately afterwards. Naps after strenuous activity were always welcome. "Couldn't we sleep for an hour?" he asked in a voice that sounded complaining but was actually joking. He pulled himself out of the pool and followed Lara. She didn't reply. "Guess that's a no," he told himself, closing the simulated fence behind him and dripping his way down the hall.
The doorbell rang, and Lara trotted over to answer it. A mail carrier silently handed her a telegram, then turned to leave. She closed the door and opened the letter. She scanned it, then punched her fist into her hand. "Damn it!" She tossed the telegram to the floor, and stormed down the hall.
Mike picked up the note and read over it. "Lara. Nice to see you are home. Come to the ruins. Duncan." He ran after Lara, who was in her room changing clothes. "Lara, what the hell is this?"
"It means that he knows where we are," Lara snarled. "And I can't let him keep that information. We keep playing into his hand. I can't seem to stay ahead of him anymore!"
"So what are we going to do about it?" he asked.
"Get changed," she ordered. "We're going to do exactly what he wants us to do. Go to the ruins."
"Wonderful. You know it's trap."
She nodded. "But I can't keep this bullshit up any longer. It stops here and now. Whoever Duncan was before, he is now an enemy, and I have to confront him."
Mike threw his clothes on, and they clung to his still-wet body, but he followed Lara to the garage. When she entered, she climbed on a huge Harley hawg. Mike hopped up behind her, and she snapped a door opened. The side of the building opened up, flooding the room with light, and Lara turned the ignition, gunned the engine, and sped off down the driveway, through the opening gates, and down the twisty dirt road, a look of ultimate determination on her face.

* * * * * * * *

The ruins were not too far from Lara's mansion, and they reached them in about fifteen minutes. Lara knocked the kick-stand to the ground, cut the motor, drew her magnum, and climbed off the bike. Mike pulled the pistol from the holster on her waist and held it. She withdrew the flashlight from the satchel on her back and turned it on. There was no sign of Duncan.
"You suppose he's here?" Mike asked.
"Oh, he's here, alright," Lara replied. "And he'll be waiting. Now, all we have to do is find him." She walked into the darkness with Mike trailing her.
Duncan was not the only thing waiting for them. They had gotten barely twenty feet inside when a low growl ensued from the corner of the room. Lara's light illuminated the wolf as it charged at her. Her aim unwavering as the creature bore down on her, she pulled the trigger. The bullet slammed into the animal's face, reducing it to a shattered remains of bone, blood, and ruptured tissue. The wolf slowed as the effect of the shot registered on it's brain. It stood still for a moment, then fell on it's stomach, dead. The echo of the gunshot was ear-shattering in the enclosed space, but in moments it died away to a more acceptable decibel level. Lara continued on, unwavered by the wolf.
The passage sloped slightly downwards, and the two found a sign reading , 'Do not pass. Area unstable. Cave-ins possible. Sign posted by GenWar construction company.' But somebody had replaced the worn support beams with new ones. The area looked as safe as anywhere else.
"What the hell is going on?" Lara muttered. "He replaced all those struts by himself?"
"The changelings," Mike reminded her.
Lara nodded. "Right." She ducked under a low-hanging rock formation and descended deeper into the earth.
"What are these ruins of?" Mike asked.
"This is a gravesite," Lara said. "The entire thing is one gigantic tomb. It's basically a tremendous underground pyramid. But to my knowledge, they've never explored it all."
"Why not?" Mike asked. "Lack of funding?"
"Lack of people to head the expedition," Lara replied. "The first team that went down here never returned."
"Great," Mike said. "What makes you think we'll do any better?"
"Because I'm here now," she replied. "Watch your head."
Mike ducked the sharp rock just in time. "Thanks."

The next half-hour was uneventful. Lara even began to have doubts that Duncan was even here. She wondered if he was setting a trap of some kind. Then she stopped. In front of her was a pile of white bones, picked clean. Human bones.
"The first research team?" Mike asked in a whisper.
Lara nodded. "But that wasn't any animal that stacked those bones like that."
As if to contradict her, a low rumbling roar echoed off the walls. Mike froze in horror. "What was that?"
"I...I don't know," Lara said.
The roar came again, closer this time. A large brown splotch of fur, appearing to be a leg, appeared in the passageway from around the corner.
"Oooooooh, shit..." Lara muttered. She put the magnum in her holster and pulled the shotgun from her satchel. The thing rounded the corner and Lara stared straight into the eyes of a massive hairy ape-like creature. It did not appear happy at having visitors in its lair. Lara cocked the shotgun and pointed it at the creature. It snarled viciously at her and tossed the wolf leg it had in it's hand away, then stomped towards them.
She fired, causing a large red spot to balloon on its chest, but it kept coming.
Mike fired round after round at the creature, but it only got angrier, charging at them and roaring loudly.
Lara fired again, then dodged aside, praying Mike would do the same. He did. She pumped lead into the large creature's back, then nailed the back of its head with a perfectly aimed shot. It toppled to the ground with a thud.
"What the hell is it?" Mike asked, still shaking.
"A sasquatch," Lara said. "Ordinarily, they're very friendly, but I get the impression that this one has been down here a bit too long. Let's keep going."

After another ten minutes of walking, they wound up at a junction. The corridor led away in all three of the cardinal directions. "Great. Where to now?"
"Right," Mike decided. They turned right and as they walked, they heard the sound of running water.
"Oh no, not more water," he muttered. They broke into a large chamber with a river cutting its way through the center. The roar of water was quite loud now, but neither one could place it.
Lara walked up to the edge of the water. "Quite a current," she observed. "But I think we could jump to the other side. You willing to try? The passage goes on longer that way."
"I suppose," Mike said.
The sharp clicking of toenails coupled with the fierce growls and snarls of wolves caused them to whip around. From a ledge above them, down the slanted incline, three of the creatures were charging them. Mike took an instinctual step backwards, forgetting the river, and flailed his arms as his foot didn't find firm ground. "Lara-" he urked before plunging into the rapidly flowing water and being carried away.
"Shit!" Lara said. She fired two shots at the wolves, which made them pause for a moment, then she tossed the shotgun into her satchel and dove in after him.
The current carried them down river for several dozen feet until the reason for the roaring became very clear. A waterfall up ahead.
Mike plunged off the end, praying for a quick death, when he hit the pool at the bottom. It was a small waterfall. He flapped to the surface, choking the water out of his lungs and throat, and floated there. In the distance, behind him, he thought he heard gunshots, but quickly concluded that it was merely the water from the falls disrupting his hearing.
Lara plopped into the water next to him, her shirt and shorts clinging to her body even harder than before. She came up for air and floated next to Mike. "That was fun. Kinda."
"Not really," Mike told her. They climbed out of the pool, and as they did so, Mike noticed a light shining from down one of the passageways. "What the hell?"
Lara peered at the mysterious light. "Good question." They walked towards the light, which was a golden hue, and got brighter as they got closer.
And then they noticed the rock slide barring them passage. "Damn it!" Lara cursed. She tore at the rocks, pulling them away by the handfuls. Mike joined her, and soon they had a passage cleared large enough to walk through.
As was traditional, Lara went through first. She stopped when she reached the inside. "Oh...my...God," she managed, seeing what was casting off the golden light. A massive spear, the end dipped in gold, the handle well-encrusted with jewels, sat, shimmering, in a ray of sunlight which extended into the cavern from a tiny hole several dozen feet above. "The Spear is here!"
"Why would it be here?" Mike asked. "I mean, it should be in Rome somewhere, right? Maybe Israel?"
"I had read the journal of another archaeologist before, who claimed that he found the Spear," Lara said. "But I later found out that the man was currently in a Virginian Mental Hospital, and I discounted the whole thing. I’ll be damned…he must have hidden it. Looks like there was some truth to that man's rantings after all."
"Much truth indeed," said an all-to familiar voice behind them.
Lara and Mike whirled around. There was Duncan with two changelings next to him. "You bastard!" Lara spat. "You followed us!"
"Yes," Duncan said nonchalantly. "And it was a good thing I did too. I doubt I would have fallen in the river of my own accord. Excellent thinking, Michael."
Mike didn't reply, steaming inside. This was the bastard who had hurt Lara in the first place, and now he kept on hurting her. He was a sick, sadistic individual, not fit to even walk the earth.
Lara sneered at him. "So, you didn't think you could find it on your own, so you decided to have us check it out for you?"
Duncan nodded. "I knew you couldn't resist a challenge, Lara. I know how your mind works. I know how you operate. I've studied all your journals." He approached her and pulled put a knife from a sheath at his side.
"Study this," she snarled, slamming her knee into his groin.
Duncan doubled over in pain, and the two nightmares with him lunged into the room, grabbing Lara and Michael before they could react. Duncan recovered, however, and walked back over to Lara, who was struggling with the beast, which had become a four-armed apparition, holding her arms and legs. "I find it most useful to have some protection for that area of my body," he smiled at her. The knife gleamed in the overhead sunlight as he brought it to her throat. Then, as though possessed by a change of heart, he lowered the knife. "You've got a nice body, bitch," he whispered.
"Too good for you, you bloated sack of shit," she replied.
His fist slammed into her stomach, forcing the wind from her lungs as she fell to her knees. "That was the solar plexus, as you will recall we learned about it in seventh grade. One of the most intensive nerve clusters in the human body. Not permanently damaging, but it sure will make you hurt like hell for a while." He knelt down beside her, grabbed her shirt, and sliced the knife through the fabric, exposing her breasts. "Yes, a very nice body. I used to jack off in eighth grade thinking about getting into the sack with you, Lara. I used to fantasize about visiting you in the shower and fucking you like crazy in your own bed. But you were always such a loner. You never dated anyone, and so I never got my wish."
Lara tried to say something, but her throat was paralyzed from the stinging blow Duncan had dealt her. She managed to rasp something, but it was not intelligible.
"Leave her alone, you asshole!" Mike shouted at him. "Can't you see you've hurt her enough?"
"Hurt her?" Duncan sounded surprised. "My dear boy, she's the one who hurt me long ago. Haven't you ever heard the phrase what goes around comes around? Well, this incident has just come around." He laughed. "Did she ever tell you the story of how we were looking for that diamond, and she cut my rope? Did it deliberately too, just so she would get all the credit. And do you know why? Because she is a loner. She works alone. I'm surprised you're not dead yet."
"Lara would never do that!" Mike replied. "But even if she did it to you, you deserved every bit of it. Because no human does this to another human, you sick, demented mother fucker!"
"Wrong," Duncan said. "I am doing this." He turned back to Lara and watched her stagger to her feet. "So, need another one, or are you ready to put out?"
She pulled a leg free and kicked the knife out of his hand. It sailed through the air and dropped down a long chasm in the floor.
"Oh, you bitch, you're gonna pay for that one." He pulled a gun from his pocket and aimed it at her. "I guess you're just too feisty while you're breathing. I'll kill you and fuck your dead body instead. I might get more action that way."
"You got the guts?" Lara asked, staring him straight in the face. "Drop the gun. We'll see who winds up dead."
He laughed and placed the gun against her head. The hammer cocked back. "Say goodnight, Lara."
"You chicken," she said.
Duncan suddenly became deadly serious. "What did you say?"
"I said you're a chicken, Duncan," she said. "You always were. You wet your pants when that lion went after us in Kenya, you wanted me to go into every room first. You were afraid to climb the rope. I had to coax you, remember? You were too scared to ask me to go out on a date with you. You were always afraid of something, Duncan. Just like now. You're afraid that a woman will get the better of you."
"You shut your mouth before I sew it shut with a bullet," Duncan warned, waving the gun for emphasis.
"You never got married, did you, Duncan?" she pressed. "What, were you too chicken to walk down the aisle? Or was it that you were too scared to even ask anyone? What were you afraid of? Were you afraid that she would think that your dick was too small? That you weren't muscular enough?"
"I said shut up!" Duncan growled. Then he tossed the gun away. "Your mouth always got you into trouble," he commented. "Only now, you are in more trouble than you can possibly manage." He looked at the changeling. "Let her go when I tell you to."
It nodded.
"Hey, you asshole, what about me?" Mike yelled.
"You? I don't give a damn about you. I'll kill you quickly. But first, I'm gonna let you watch your friend here die slowly as I break every bone in her body one by one.” He turned back to the apparition holding Lara. “Let her go."
The creature released Lara, and she blocked the kick aimed at her head with her forearm. Her fist flew inside his arm, catching him on the cheek. A trail of spittle flew out of his mouth, but he regained his composure. "Well well, looks like I am in for a good fight," he said. He charged at her, sending the two of them rolling across the floor while the two changelings looked on in half-delight.
Unable to take it any longer, Mike slammed his elbows into the creature that was holding him. It flew back against the rock wall, and he rammed into it with his outstretched arms. It cried out in pain as the sharp slivers of the cave wall drove into its back, then fell to the floor, bleeding from where all the pointed rocks had pierced its skin.
The second one charged at him as well as Lara and Duncan wrestled on the floor.
Mike barely had time to react before the creature's fist drove itself into his face, and he hit the ground in a wave of pain. He slowly got to his feet, and tried to concentrate. The thing was certainly stronger than he was, but how could he use that to his advantage? Suddenly, an idea formed in his mind. He began taunting the creature. At first, it seemed like nothing happened. But gradually, it got angrier, until it ran at him. Mike dodged the fist it swung and brought the heel of his hand up into its face, slamming it into the thing's nose. It had the desired effect. The cartilage from the nightmare's nose was suddenly rammed into its brain, more from the force of its charge rather than from the strength of Mike's blow. It lost its footing and flew through the air a short distance before landing on its back, dead.
Duncan had Lara's arms pinned to the floor with his legs, and he brought his hands across her breasts, pinching the nipples as he did so. She yelped in pain as his fingers squeezed tighter and tighter. "That hurt, bitch? Hurts real good, don't it?"
Her forehead slammed into his, throwing him off of her and allowing her to stand up again. "You only touch someone when they give you permission," she snarled.
"I give myself permission," he said back. "You owe me, Lara. And you owe me big time." He grabbed her suddenly and threw her against the wall of he cave. She fell to the floor, the breath and strength gone from her body. Mike ran to her side, but stood up again as Duncan came over. "You've already half-killed her," he growled, looking at the blood trickling from her lips and the gash on her stomach where his booted foot had connected with a cheap blow. "Just take the damn Spear and get out of here."
Duncan stopped. "Hey, Mike, now that you've seen what a stupid bitch your partner is, you want to join up with me?"
Something seemed to light up in Mike's eyes. "Really? You'd let me work with you instead?"
Duncan nodded. "Why don't you and I take this Spear and show it to the rest of the world, eh?"
Mike grinned evilly. "Sounds good to me." He walked over to the gun on the floor. "You get the Spear, I'll cover this bitch." He pointed the gun at her head.

Lara looked up, her vision blurred from pain and tears. Mike was pointing a gun at her. And she remembered something about him teaming up with Duncan. That...little...traitor... How could he do this to her? After all they had done together? Didn't all those times they had made love mean anything? He was just as bad as Duncan, she saw now. A chicken. A...chicken... Her eyes closed as she fainted from the effort.

Duncan walked up to the Spear and looked it over. "Hey, when I take this, you want to fuck around with her a bit before we off her?"
Mike nodded. "Good idea. I bet she's a real dynamo, even unconscious."
"Tell ya what. I'm in a good mood, so I'll even let you go first. I'll take what's left." He sneered.
"Hey, thanks, man!" Mike said. "You're the one I should have teamed up with to begin with!" Lara stirred, and he pointed the gun at her again. "Don't move, bitch." She stopped moving.
Duncan grasped the Spear and pulled it from the rock it sat in. "I've got the Spear! Now I've got absolute power! The entire world will now kneel before me!"
"Think again, asswipe," Mike said, turning and pointing the gun at him. "Just drop it and nobody gets hurt."
"You fool, what could you possibly do to me? Shoot me? Oh, I'm so scared." Duncan held his arms apart in a gruesome mockery of a crucifix. "Go ahead. Take your best shot."
Mike pulled the trigger. The path was clear, the bullet clearly hit him, but there was no sign of pain. Only a hole in his chest.
"You see, you stupid boy? I'm invulnerable now." Duncan laughed, and Mike fired again. The bullet hit, but again, there was no blood. Mike fired a third time, but the result was the same. Duncan was virtually unharmed.
"You're almost out of bullets," Duncan laughed. "Go ahead, fire away. You can't hurt me."
Mike circled Duncan slowly, until his back was to the pit. He fired again, and again the bullet penetrated, but generated no blood.
"You know, that sort of tickles," Duncan commented. "Go on, you've got one more shot. Use it or lose it, I always say!"
Mike began to panic. This was NOT supposed to happen. Then he saw the eye patch. A small glimmer of hope shined into his mind. If he could make this last shot count...
He brought the gun up higher, and aimed for Duncan's head.
Duncan cackled. "Oh, think the brain's a much better bet? Go right ahead and try."
Mike squeezed the trigger, and the round flew from the gun. It buried itself in Duncan's only functioning eye.
Duncan screamed. This wasn't supposed to happen! That stupid kid had blinded him! His only means of sight! Gone! That brat! He was going to pay! He was right in front of me when he fired. I'll take him and kill him slowly.
Duncan charged at Mike, who held his ground. "Go ahead, blind man," Mike taunted. "Take your best shot."
Duncan extended the Spear an leaped at Mike, but Mike dodged aside, and Duncan suddenly remembered that the pit had been behind Mike. But it was too late. He dropped into the chasm. Then he calmed as he remembered that as long as he was holding the Spear, he was immortal. Anything could happen to his body, but he would live forever! He accepted the rocks cutting him, his head bouncing off the walls, all in stride. He felt nothing because of the Spear. This would be easy. He would simply climb back up after the fall and-
There was a horrible feeling in his stomach and chest as the stalagmite pierced through him. But it was no big deal, because he was holding the Spear. He would simply get up and pull himself off the formation, then climb back up and really make that brat and Lara pay.
He tried to move, but found that he couldn't for some reason. A feeling in his head informed him that his spine was severed. Damn, he thought, as he hung suspended several inches off the floor. I guess I'll have to drop the Spear. I'll die, but I can always haunt those two mother-fuckers from hell.
He commanded his hand to release the Spear. And it stayed clutching it tightly. Release the Spear, he ordered the hand. But it stayed in his grasp. With his spine severed, the connections were not able to be made. Once again, he tried to will his hand to open, but it would not. RELEASE THE GOD DAMN MOTHER-FUCKING SPEAR! he commanded his hand. Then the full force of the problem impacted into his brain. Whoever holds the Spear shall live forever... He began to scream, not in pain, but in utter shock. He wanted to live forever, but not like this. Immortality wasn't supposed to be this way! It was all wrong! This was not fair!
He screamed again, and again, until the screaming rended his vocal chords, and then he continued trying to scream, but only managed to make sickly honking noises instead. His voice did not even reach up into the room where Lara and Mike were seated.

* * * * * * * *

They got up off the cave floor, and Mike helped Lara to her feet. "You know, for a minute there, I thought you were serious," she told him.
"Right, betray you after all we've been through together?" he asked her. "Lara, I love you more than life itself."
"We didn't get the Spear," she said sadly. "It was in my face, and I couldn't grab it."
"Lara, think about it," Mike told her. "Who wants to live forever?"
She nodded. "Good point, Mike." She brought her lips to his, touching ever so slightly. "Let Duncan be buried with it. After all, it's just a Spear. There can't be anything really special about it."
Mike nodded. "I imagine that stuff is all bullshit anyway." He pointed to a light in the tunnel up ahead. "Come on, let's get outta here. I'm starving."
"How can you talk about food at a time like this?" she asked as they burst into the light of the setting sun. They were up on a deserted hillside with small daisies growing daintily next to a large oak tree.
"You're right," Mike said as he looked first at the sunset, then at Lara, unable to determine which was more beautiful. "I'm completely speechless."
"I know what to do in situations like that," Lara said. She sat down on the grassy hillside. Mike did the same.
"What's that?" he asked.
"Let your mouths do the talking." She put her arms around him, and they laid down on the ground, mouths locked together in an eternal embrace of love.
The sun sank slowly in the sky, and there were bright white twinkles of stars in the sky as they simply laid on the grass. And somewhere in the back of his mind, "Daylight Fading" by the Counting Crows was playing.
The moon looked down on the two figures that she bathed in her light, but didn't really care what they were doing. Love, the moon knew, was something that not even the planets could change.


<<<---***@@@ To Be Continued @@@***--->>>