Tomb Raider: The Legacy

Chapter 8: Bones

He forced himself to set his eyes on the newspaper, which suddenly no longer had any interest to him. Everything seemed futile now. He'd met the most desired woman on the planet, with whom he - and so many others - had often dreamed, and she didn't even know his name.

He could have had the woman he wanted - or several of them - if he had wished, if he had chosen to tie himself to one or several, if he had chosen to complicate a life that was already complicated enough, unhappy enough.

But for a woman like her... no, rather, for her, he would have risked everything.

While most of his overwhelmed subconscious was spinning, his fine instinct, always activated although the rest of himself was obfuscated, heard clearly that the woman was repeating the question. Louis Bouchard. Who was Louis Bouchard. Where was he.

Why would a woman like her look for that nasty runt, the head of the Paris Mafia, of that filthy ghetto? There were not many reasons, and he knew them all.

He forced himself to move a little - the tension was tightening his back - and then he saw her leave the counter and pass again in front of him, without looking at him a second time, and leave the cafe slamming the door.

Now he could look at her as much as he wanted, but it was only an instant, and she walked away until he lost sight of her.

He slowly let out the air he had accumulated in his lungs. He licked his dry lips.

"Lara Croft." He murmured, savouring those two words.

Lara Croft. Lara Croft. Lara Croft.

It seemed impossible, but there she was. Well, there she'd been.

And suddenly, he rose from the table, dropped some coins on it, and went to the counter. Pierre cringed at having him nearby. He was afraid of him, like so many others. One had to be an idiot not to see the huge gun wrapped under his arm - and that considering he didn't know, or would ever know, everything he could do with or without that gun.

Lara Croft was looking for Louis Bouchard, but he was going to find her, and find out what she was doing there, in that filthy place, someone like her.

He had a plan. Next time they met, everything was going to be different.

Very different.

(...)

Anna woke up soon, as usual. She had the poor sleep of youth, that is, she could easily fall asleep, sleep like a log and wake up too soon and too active. Of course, that had never been a problem for her parents. Neither for Kurtis and his chronic insomnia, nor for Lara, who could go from 0 to 1000 in a second.

Except that day. The girl was surprised to see her mother wasn't moving, and when she turned, she saw her still sleeping deeply, exhausted. Leaning over her, she pushed a lock of her hair from her forehead and examined her pale face and the dark shadows beneath her eyes.

Wasn't she thinner than usual? Was she ill?

It seemed that while she was struggling with her problems at school, the adults had messed up on their own as well.

Sighing, Anna jumped out of bed to pack her backpack, when she realized, annoyed, that her father had it. She had no choice but to take a shower and put on the same clothes.

When she stepped out of the shower an hour later - she used to get stunned under the running water, thinking a thousand irrelevant things at once - Lara was still deep asleep. Anna frowned. "Seriously?" She murmured. Lara always got up and was ready quickly, then she waited for her daughter snorting, arms folded and tapping her toes on the floor while Anna ran from side to side picking up her scattered things.