Tomb Raider: The Legacy

Chapter 2: Home

It might have been almost sixteen years since she'd first been there, but Selma Al-Jazeera's apartment was still a mess. Lara unexpectedly stumbled with a thick book only-God-knows-why was on the floor, and as she staggered, struck a fragile table with her hip and overturned a glass of juice next to a pile of papers, spilling it over the sheets. The British explorer caught the glass in time before it tumbled to the ground, and after looking around, tossed it into a nearby wastebasket and covered it with scraps of wrinkled papers. Then she simply plugged the whole mess with a few more books and papers.

"Gotcha, babe." Zip murmured while not looking away from the screen, in front of his new server at one end of the study.

"What Selma doesn't know won't hurt her." Lara said, glancing sideways at the slow dripping of the sticky liquid that began to trickle beneath the pile of papers.

"Yeah, sure." Zip shook her head. "But if the princess finds out, I'll tell her it was your bony ass that bundled it up."

Lara let out a sigh. "Friendship's not what it used to be."

"Hey, do I look like Mother Theresa?" The hacker finally looked away from the screen and turned in the chair to look at her. "Geeeeez, you look awful." Lara had her face, neck and arms covered with cuts. "Sharpy, that bamboo crap, isn't it?" Zip smiled, displaying his white teeth.

"Don't remind me of that." Lara grunted.

"Good thing this pal gotcha outta there." Zip stretched in the chair, and when Lara raised an eyebrow, he added, "C'mon, babe. I got your passport in record time. I'm a fucking pro, admit it."

"Thanks for the passport, but it wasn't you who get me outta there." A mischievous smile danced on the British explorer's lips.

"Yeah well, while Super-Kurt lives the rest of the guys will be screwed." Zip sighed. "Speaking of heroes, where's daddy's little monster?"

"Daddy's little monster is with her grandmother in England." Lara looked again at the juice that was already dripping from the edge of the table. "The school year has begun."

Zip whistled. "Poor kiddo. Surely by now the crone has her dressed with little laces and sitting at a table drinking tea and chewing tea cookies."

Lara's mouth twisted. "I'd rather talk about the bamboo cage."

At that moment, there was the clink of keys at the door, and a small, dark-haired woman entered the already cramped apartment carrying a pile of books and papers. Seeing Lara, her eyes - large, black, and as sweet as expressive - opened wide and, shrieking, she threw what she carried in her arms to one side - content added to the already existing disaster covering furniture and ground - and she lunged toward Lara with open arms, stumbling over more books and tables on the way.

"Lara!!" Shouted Selma Al-Jazeera, an archaeologist and professor of Ancient History and Hebrew Mythology at the University of Istanbul, hanging on the neck of an uncomfortable British explorer. "I was eager to see you! I suffered horribly knowing about Sri Lanka. Oh, my God, are you okay?" She touched the cuts on Lara's face and neck. "You're scarred... What they did to you? Those bastards..."

"Selma, stop." Lara gasped, writhing to free herself from her embrace.

The archaeologist released her, but only to stamp her a pair of slimy kisses on each cheek, which she accepted resignedly. "I didn't expect you so early!" The Turkish woman looked nervously around. "I would've tidied this a bit..."

"Ha!" Zip mocked, rolling his eyes. "First we need to find the floor."

"You could have done something, sir." Selma snarled, looking at him sideways. "As far as I know, now this is your apartment too."