Lara Croft:Tomb Raider and all characters associated with this title do not belong to me, but to Eidos Interactive

This is my first Tomb Raider story, and I hope everyone enjoys it. It's rather lengthy, and I hope to write a sequel if I get enough response from it.

Chapter One

He brushed the slightly lengthened black hair out of his eyes as he quickly turned the throttle. The motorcycle leapt forward so abruptly that the man was almost thrown from his seat at the change of speed. He calmly steadied himself and continued onward, his grip around the handlebars somewhat tightening.

"Only a few more miles." he thought to himself. He felt a pain surge through his waist and quickly glanced toward its source. The bandage he had used earlier to cover the nearly fatal stab wound, which ran completely through his body, had failed. Its color was no longer a soothing white, but a dark, curdled red.

In an instant dream, created by the loss of blood, the road disappeared and all he could see was Boaz, the monstrosity that had inflicted this pain upon him. He recalled their battle, and his stupidity when he had let his guard down; a direct cause of her sharp, spear-like arm, stabbing completely through his abdomen. The pain returned as the memories began to fade.

His eyelids fluttered with fatigue, and as fast as the visions had appeared within his mind, they were gone, and all that remained was an approaching tree.

"Shit!" the man yelled as he swerved to miss the solid structure rapidly coming toward him, no longer within a dream, but threatening his life. He turned the bike as hard as he could, directing it away from the large trunk. He cleared the tree by barely a foot, but his speed quickly caught up with him. The motorcycle instantly fell to its side, forced to the ground by its velocity, and skidded across the asphalt roadway. The man quickly bailed before he was caught between the two, and was nearly crushed under the weight of the metal structure between his legs.

His body tossed violently against the hard ground, thrown like a rag-doll, until his forced movement finally halted in a nearby ditch. He was motionless for several seconds as his thoughts were blank. His mind then panicked as it caught on to what was happening.

His arms met his stomach as he winced in pain. Blood poured onto his hands and the visions around him slightly blurred from his sudden vacancy from the vehicle, and the shock of being thrown fifty feet though the air. Along with the lightheadedness of his mind, the feeling in his limbs was completely gone, faded out by the unbearable pain at his waist.

This wasn't going to happen, it couldn't be possible; him, lying in a ditch only minutes from his destination, slowly bleeding to death when help was so near? It was going to happen however; the pain was too much, unless he could move.

His muscles tensed as he closed his eyes, trying to force-

Impossible. His physical strength was rendered useless as his heart began to abandon him. "No!" his mind offered help. He had to try.

The man knew he couldn't stand, it was too difficult. He would have to crawl, have to crawl to survive.

But he didn't want to survive, didn't want to continue forward; he wanted to sleep, wanted to close his eyes and drift into a neverending abyss of darkne-

"Stop!" his mind forced his eyes to reopen. "You're almost there. You're almost there." his thoughts urged his body to continue despite his weakened state. He forced his hands forward, gripping his fingers within the dry ground. The rough surface tore at his wound like sharpened knives, causing his face to grimace with every pull of his arms, every strain of his muscles as he desperately inched his body forward. He ignored the pain, the fiery chill that burned throughout his body, making him lose hope, making him want to give up. He hadn't gone far when he did.

The torn body fell flat against the hard earth, its eyes slowly giving in to the heaviness that eagerly pressed upon them, daring the man to fall asleep, a sleep he would never awaken from. The lids fell, welcoming death, closing over his-

The eyes turned wide as his lips parted with surprise and hope. He saw them, something he had never seen before in his life, but something he had never been so happy to see now.

The gates stood before him, their presence blinded to him before from his disoriented vision, but now made clear by the two old-fashioned street lights that lined the gate-wall's corner, shining brightly against his face, showing him the way.

He was so close, too close to give up now. He forced his hands forward once again, crawling for what seemed an eternity, pushing the pain aside, fighting just to breath...until his hand finally brushed against the towering metal grating of the Croft Estate.

He had made it, made it to the one place where his life would be spared, where his wounds would be mended.

He would never reach that place however, he would never reach it because he hadn't noticed the large chain lock that was wrapped around the gate's center, preventing his entrance, preventing him from being saved.

He lowered his head with disappointment as he sighed with disbelief. There was nothing he could do. His instincts forced him to search his surroundings, desperately hoping for a miracle. The wall was at least 12 feet tall, a fact that truly didn't matter though; the barrier could have been a mere 3 inches and he still wouldn't have been able to scale it, his current condition making such an effort impossible before it was even attempted. He couldn't just lay here, he had to do something, simply because their was no chance of him surviving through the night without help. He knew how his abilities would weaken him, and probably kill him if he wasn't careful, but what choice did he have?

He gathered the remaining strength that he had and desperately lifted his hand, placing it where the two doors met. He closed his eyes with pain and concentration, focusing his mind on the task at hand, on clearing his path to the mansion before him and getting to the person inside. The mere thought of her made him feel stronger, pushing him harder to make it than ever before.

His thoughts were disrupted as a noise sounded in front of him, the sound of an object falling hard against the thick cobblestone driveway. He stared at the source, the broken lock that had previously held the gates together, the thick iron chain quickly falling to the ground beside it.

He gritted his teeth with relief, a smile was too painful to muster. He pushed his hands forward, parting the enormous iron doors. He forced himself to keep going with the thoughts of his father, his clan the Lux Veritatis, and of how mankind needed him, how she needed him. The memories of her making every painful inch toward the mansion worth it, making his life worth it. She could help him, she was the only one who could help him, the only one who could help the world. He couldn't fail, not like this, he had to continued on.

The thoughts had made his pain and anguish disappear, and had made his desperate movements toward the door more rapid.

He stared forward, a forced smile across his face. He'd made it; the mansion was before him, its wooden doors calling him inside.

He gripped the brick wall that lined the large doorway, straining his weakened muscles and pulling himself to a stand, his happiness hiding the pain. He sighed heavily with relief as he balanced himself, holding his weight against the wall.

He closed his eyes and breathed deeply as he slowly moved his bloodied hands toward the doorbell of Croft Manor.

(-)

The lady Lara Croft should have been resting, a fact that her elderly butler Winston reminded her of constantly throughout the night. She had just returned from a quite tiresome conflict in Prague, but as usual she disregarded the man's words and was rambling through all of the books in her library searching for information on the Nephilim, the Cabal, and most of all, the Lux Veritatis. It had been several weeks since her episode and she couldn't help but relieve her curiosity of the situation. She had so many questions, and none were being answered by these pointless books. She wanted to be prepared in case all of it came back to bite her in the ass, and the fact that she wasn't getting anywhere frustrated her to the point of anger. She would've given anything for Kurtis Trent to be alive. He could answer so many of her questions about the entire ordeal, explain so many of the confusing possibilities that were baffling just to think about. She glanced at the grandfather clock in the library's corner. It was quarter after midnight; maybe she should get some rest.

A yawn left her lungs as she stretched her arms above her head, soothing the muscles that ached from hours of stillness. She quickly left her comforted seat beside the fireplace, ready to leave the room's soothing warmth. She shut off the lights as she left the space, walked through the music room without a thought, and entered into the main hall. Her mind constantly spurred as she continued toward her bedroom, prodding with possibilities of her unanswered questions. She was near the door to her bedchamber when the familiar chimes of someone bothering her suddenly rang throughout the house.

"Who could that be?" she asked herself, knowing a visit at such a late hour could not be one of a casual hello. She eyed the main door that called to her with curiosity before starting down the large staircase toward the home's entrance. Her feet met the base of the main floor as she quickly started toward the cedar doors before her, her ears listening carefully for suspicious movement behind them. She hesitated a moment as she stared, deciding against simply opening the door without a mere assumption as to who was on the other side.

Her hands instinctively wavered to her thighs, her fingers meeting the leather holsters placed there, making sure that she was armed. Her 9mm pistols hung in their familiar places, waiting until their aid was called for. She was ready for anything.

"Who is it?" she questioned her visitor. "What do you want?"

A silence was her answer.

Lara waited several seconds without receiving a response, and finally decided to go against her thoughts of danger, slowly backing away from the door, presuming that there was an electrical fault within the bell's wiring.

Her motions instantly stopped as she felt an eerie presence enter her mind, her hands lowering to her holsters once again. The chimes had rang loudly a second time throughout the house. She slowly inched her body back toward the double doors, timidly studying them, confusion and fear in her thoughts. She cautiously neared the entrance again, her fingers gripping tightly around the holstered guns. She repeated her question as to who was bothering her once more, receiving the same silent results.

Lara unstrapped one of the guns from her side and lifted it head level, pointing it at the door. She slowly reached forward, ready to face the person that stood behind the wooden barrier before her, either a threat to her life or a person incapable of speaking. Her fingers swiftly ran over the door's chain lock, removing it.

She backed away.

Lara steadied her pistol as the door slowly crept open, fixing her legs into a sturdy stance, ready to face the entity that waited for her. Her eyes met the outside world as the door reached the extent of its hinges.

Her brows arched with confusion. There was nothing there, only darkness. She lowered her gun without understanding as she stepped slightly forward, cautiously-

Lara gasped as a figure suddenly fell from the shadows, forcing itself upon her. Reacting instantly, she shoved her arms forward, knocking her attacker away. She quickly raised her pistol once again, ready to fire.

Her motions instantly stopped with surprise as she stared, realizing that her attacker was a man, not simply in gender but a man she knew. The bright blue eyes were unmistakable. This was the man who had betrayed her in Paris, and saved her life in Prague. This was the man she had desperately searched for at the Strahov, but had finally concluded on was dead. This man was Kurtis Trent.

She started to lower her gun though her stare remained, friendly thoughts of relief within her mind. She couldn't; something deep inside told her not to, told her to stay focused, to keep her aim. The vision of Karel in the form of this figure dug itself into her mind, the vision of a betrayal she could never forgive. The memory made her refuse to trust him. She had no idea if this was the real Kurtis Trent, if their was a real one at all. But what if he was? Could she take that chance? How would she ever be sure?

Her thoughts were broken by a familiar voice.

"Lara," Kurtis spoke in a tone so soft that she could barely hear him. "You have to help me." His vision was so distorted that he didn't even notice the gun barrel only inches from his forehead.

"What are you doing here?" Lara asked with fear and surprise. She had to fool him with her words, had to find out if the man in her doorway was the nephilim Karel, his evil frame simply hidden within a familiar face. His responses would give him away. "You're dead. The energy killed you."

Kurtis could barely focus, and the fact that Lara was making no sense confused him even more. "What?" he questioned her words before starting forward.

"Stop!" Lara shouted as the figure began toward her, she gripped her pistol tightly. She couldn't let the nephilim inside. She wanted the advantage if he attacked. "Don't come any closer!"

"What are you doing?" His confusion had turned into fear of her strange actions. "It's me. Kurtis."

"Bullshit."

Kurtis stared at her without understanding. Why was she acting like this? Why didn't she recognize him? He started to make another comment, but was forced to stop before the words could form as his body fell hard to the floor, unconsciousness taking his fragile mind and wounded body.

Lara backed away as the figure fell forward, his mind giving in to its weakened state. She had been so caught up in the moment that she hadn't noticed the unbelievable amount of blood that covered the intruder's clothing and skin. She cautiously went to his now motionless body, searching for signs of life. Convinced that the unconsciousness wasn't an act, she gently placed her forefinger against the side of the man's neck. His pulse was extremely weak and he was barely breathing, which was amazing considering all the blood he had lost. If she didn't act quickly, Kurtis, who she'd have liked to believe it was, wouldn't be alive the following day.

She heard a sudden noise ring out behind her, and quickly spun, her pistol leveled once again. She lowered the weapon immediately as the figure became known to her eyes, the elderly form of Winston.

The butler ignored her overly anxious act, continuing toward her, never halting even when the gun barrel had been aimed at his head.

"What is going-" he cut himself off at the sight of the lifeless body on the floor. "Oh my God. Who is he? What is he doing here?"

Lara gave a simple "I'm not sure" and continued looking Kurtis over, thinking of the best way to treat the many wounds he held, the fastest way. She quickly turned to Winston "Get me some bandages, something for his pain-" she hesitated with thought, "-and some rope."

Winston stared at her with confusion at her last request, but he didn't question it. He had come to expect such demands from Lara Croft, he accepted them.

He quickly left her side, retrieving all that she asked of him before hurriedly returning, giving her the medical items, and her other, more radical request.

Lara quickly put the supplies to use as Winston returned. She removed the blood drenched shirt from the motionless man's frame, and then the pitiful excuse for a bandage that covered his stab-like wound. She quickly poured disinfectant across his minor scrapes and bruises, applied new gauze to the more serious ones, and finally gave him a shot of morphine, not caring if the extra dosage killed him or not.

After she had finished, and was satisfied that he would live at least one more day, she and Winston carefully carried him to an extra bedroom on the main floor, not wanting to risk a venture up the stairs.

Once inside the new bedchamber, she put the rope to use, bounding Kurtis's arms and legs tightly to the frame of the bed, careful not to harm him in the process, and making sure his position wouldn't injure his stomach further while he slept. Confident that he wasn't going anywhere, she curiously eyed the supplies she had taken from him. It wasn't much, a small side-pouch with a few miscellaneous items inside and a serrated knife. She was more interested in the shoulder holster he had worn. She stared at it, his preferred weapon still inside. She had never seen a gun like it in all her life. The shape of the barrel seemed to hold a overly large round, though the clip was extremely over-packed; there were at least 20 shots to each one. She shook her head, wondering where he had acquired such a weapon. Maybe she did have reason to be suspicious of him. A sigh erupted from her vocals as she collected his few things and went to leave the room. Winston stopped her.

"Do you know this man?" he asked with curiosity, wondering where the intruder had come from, and why Lara felt so compelled to help him.

"Maybe." Lara answered with hesitance. "We'll find out tomorrow."

She watched with strange thoughts as Winston left the room. She stared at the calm figure strung to the bed in the corner. She felt bad for leaving him this way, tied and bound, his body awkwardly placed despite its fragile state. Why was he here? Even if he had survived the Strahov, there was no reason for him to come back to her. It didn't make sense.

She felt scared as she watched him. He had remained a mystery to her during their previous encounters; she barely knew him. Yet he was here now, returning to her for help, or something else perhaps. She smiled "Maybe I left an impression." Her eyes focused on his features, slightly distorted with scars and blood stains. She had no doubt saved his life. "Just returning the favor," her mind spoke coldly, forgetting her earlier thoughts when she had wished he was alive. There was something more to his arrival than a casual return; his condition was proof of that.

Her stare remained on him, the dark hair and rugged presence took her back to Prague, took her back to their few moments together when they had become spontaneous partners. She had had no idea who this mysterious man was at the time, but did she know him now?

"No." she spoke aloud. She had no time for petty trust. She would question him once he awoke, and find out everything she needed. She couldn't take any risks for him, couldn't untie him just because he had a pretty face, and a body to-

She quickly shook her head to rid herself of the thought and forced her eyes to leave Kurtis's figure. She shut off the room's light and quietly shut the door, leaning her back against it once it was closed. She thought in silence for a moment, thinking of the best way to question him once he came into consciousness. She wished he were awake, she had so many curiosities that needed clearing up. She had no idea when he would awaken, but patience is a virtue, and she would have to practice it. She sighed.

"Just wait until tomorrow."

Lara quickly kicked herself away from the wall and returned to the main hall. She told Winston to leave the bloodstain that covered the carpet until the morning, and she casually started up the immense stairway, directing herself to her bedroom. She would have to wait until tomorrow, and then, her and Kurtis Trent would unite once again, and this time, there wouldn't be a gun involved.

Hopefully.

A/N: I've added a few paragraphs to the end to give a better feeling of Lara's thoughts, but nothing major. I think I fixed everything, but I've officially started my editing stage now, and here's the final Chapter 1. I'm also gonna name my chapters as well, so things won't be as confusing.