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The Treasure at Home	By : abra Category: S through Z > Tomb Raider Views: 12615 -:- Recommendations : 0 -:- Currently Reading : 0
Disclaimer: I do not own Tomb Raider, nor any of the characters from it. I do not make any money from the writing of this story.

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The treasure at home

Author: Abra de Winter

Disclaimer:The characters Lara and Hillary do not belong to me. I took them from the movies "Lara Croft: Tomb Raider" and "Lara Croft Tomb Raider: The Cradle of Life", produced by British Broadcasting Corporation (BBC), Eidos Interactive Ltd., KFP Produktions GmbH & Co. KG and several other companies. No money are being made from this story. I don’t own Amelia Donaghy from “The Bone Collector”.

This chapter has not been beta edited. If anyone feels generous enough to look through it thoroughly, please e-mail me the suggestions at abra_appelby@yahoo.com

Oh, yeah, the plot is really lame, so if you find anything very stupid, please don’t be too upset. I couldn’t be bothered to take the time to find out facts about Cairo, I just love documentaries about pharaohs and mummies.

Rating: not so NC17

Chapter IV - Rescue mission

Six months later

“Pfff, sand!”
A few grains had sneaked inside her jeans and she heard Hillary’s mock compassionate voice “I know. Gets everywhere… in the cracks”
“Well, fuck you, Hillary!” She said in anger.
She had to stop and clear her head. Nothing made sense anymore. All of a sudden the ground started to tremble and she found herself falling. She tried to grasp something solid, some corner of a rock, some roots, something, anything, but she was surrounded by darkness. And she kept falling.
She landed hard on the floor of a cave many feet bellow the temple while pebbles kept raining on her. Her left ankle was broken, her right shoulder was dislocated and her entire body hurt like hell when she crawled away from the falling stones.
After a while the thundering sound of the stone avalanche died out. She was laying on the cold surface thinking all she had to do was to find a way climb back up without the use of her left leg and right arm, when she felt some sort of mist touching her face. She directed the beam of the flashlight in time to see the little beast scurrying away. On her long lonely nights after Hillary’s cowardly departure, Lara had watched enough Discovery Channel and Animal Planet to recognise the toad. It was a nasty little bugger that secreted a highly hallucinogenic substance as a defence mechanism.
“Hmm...” was all she could say before she fainted.

~~~

Two days earlier

Hillary was preparing dinner for Amelia. She was going to arrive in half an hour and he had to get read of the evidence. It was a difficult task to prepare the refined recipes he knew and yet not make it see as if he had tried tord. rd.
He panicked for a moment when he heard the intercom. She was early, he had no time to wash the twenty-something dishes and kitchen utensils he had used.
“Yes?” he asked, getting ready to buzz her in.
“It’s Bryce. Bryce Turning.”
His hand hovered for a moment, before pushing the button. He prepared Bryce’s favourite hot drink and started washing dishes with a maniacal determination waiting for him to come up. The young man knocked and entered.
“’evening, Hilary.”
Hillary came out of the kitchen with a cup of coffee. He stopped in mid gesture when noticing the young man’s appearance. Bryce was unshaven and had deep dark blue circles under the eyes, as if he had not slept for days.
“Good evening, Mr. Turning. A decaf latte with nonfat milk?”
“You’re still a champion!” Bryce took the coffee from him with the expression of a drowning man before who sees a lifeboat.
Hillary was about to start a conversation about the weather to prevent himself asking about Lara, but Bryce opened another subject.
“Are you expecting someone?”
The answer was lost in the kitchen noise, the teapot whistled and the oven bell warned him he had to check the roast.
“Your roast is done.” Bryce smirked.
“It’s boeuf bourgouinon…” Hillary replied instinctively, but did not move towards the oven.
“So? Who is she? Spill it out!”
“Why did you come, Mr. Turning?”
Bryce stared into his cup, studying attentively how the milk swirled and blended with the coffee.
“She’s missing.”
Hillary went numb. He had always dreaded something like this. Bryce took his silence as a sign to go on.
“She went to Egypt. It was a routine mission. Well, as routine as Lara’s expeditions usually are, you know. The Cairo Museum financed by some local businessman called her to investigate a burial site. We stayed in contact for a while, but she hasn’t called in three days. The museum people haven’t heard from her either. I’m worried. I don’t know whom to turn to. Except you.”
In the awkward silence, the intercom buzzed again.
“It’s Amelia.” The voice came out distorted.
“Come on up!” said Hillary, no longer worried about the dishes.

Twenty minutes later, Amelia, using Bryce’s laptop had logged on into the Interpol databanks and looked for information about the presumed benefactor of the Cairo Museum.
Another twenty minutes later she was browsing through some alternative sources and the story on the Egyptian millionaire was getting messier.
“How could she just go like that?” Hillary interrogated Bryce. “Why haven’t you checked that guy properly?”
“She didn’t seem all that keen to know. My feeling was that she just wanted to get out of here. She was bored beyond belief!”
Hillary knew better than that. She was not bored. She had just faced disappointment in her typical manner, by running away. The man fought off his guilt. This time, for the first time, he was the cause of her grief. No. He was going to think about it later. When she was safe again.
“We’ll have to go there.” He stated blandly.
Amelia had been trained by the brightest profiler of the decade and she did not need any more clues about his feelings.
“Call me if you need anything. Information, police backup, anything.”
Hillary looked at her with gratitude.
“Thank you.” He smiled shyly; he was not used to this sort of unconditional help.

~~~

Hillary heard the car screech to a halt and guessed that Sir Richard had let her drive. The lord was clearly insane, Hillary had understood that from the very first days of service. Here he was, a properly trained gentlemen’s gentleman and Sir Richard Croft asks him to take every other afternoon off to train in martial arts. He touched his torso discreetly, trying to make sure that his ribs hadn’t cracked and pierced through the skin. They hadn’t, though the constant pain made it difficult to even the.the.
“Good afternoon, lady Croft.” Hillary greeted the teenager.
The fifteen years old Lara Croft stormed past him, yelling an enthusiastic “Hello, Hillary!” and ran up the stairs into her room.
Hillary shook his head at her unladylike behaviour and went out to take her bags from the car. He was in time to see Sir Richard head for the stables and he remembered that he was waiting for a surprise Arabian pure blood stallion for his daughter.
The butler carried the heavy suitcases up to her room wondering what could she have stuffed in them. Judging by the weight, the trunks were full with big smegging rocks. He let them down outside her door, trying not to look to shagged out when she saw him. It was not advisable to appear vulnerable in front of that child.
“Come in!” he heard Lara answering his polite knock.
He was mentally prepared to see her in a pair of ungodly jeans and the skimpiest t-shirt she could find in her wardrobe, but he was pleasantly surprised to see she was still wearing her school uniform. He smiled looking at her perfect profile. Lara was sitting at the desk by the window scribbling something on a piece of paper. Hillary started to hope that she had outgrown her rebellious phase and, very soon, a beautiful young lady will emerge out of the energetic child he knew.
Lara finished putting into words the revelation she had on the way to the manor about the religious importance of the animal mummification in ancient Egypt. She got out of her chair and beamed at Hillary. She had desperately missed home. She had missed everything about the mansion, but especially the sense of freedom. Her father’s ideas about her education had allowed her to have an independent spirit, but in this house she was more than just free. She was the queen of the castle.
She was looking at Hillary like the pleased owner of a fine, reliable machine. But at that particular moment in time, her toy-butler did not seem all that finally tuned. She walked towards him, then around him trying to figure out what was wrong with her picture-perfect butler.
As soon as she stood up, Hillary froze. In front of him was not the scrawny teenager that had left the house the previous September. She had grown up quite nicely over the year and Hillary hoped he was not staring at her chest. The school uniform was tight over her breasts and the man half hoped that the buttons would suddenly burst, revealing the wonders crammed beneath her shirt. The more he was trying not to stare at her, the more details he observed.
She wasn’t wearing a bra.
Her hips had lost a little of their boyish appearance, just enough to create a sweet curve that accentuated her thin waste.
He was not staring lustfully at the fifteen years old daughter of his employer.
He was not considering pushing her over the desk and pulling up her skirt
He was not imagining spreading her legs and caressing the inside of her thighs.
And most of all he was not thinking of locking the door and taking her right then and there.
“What’s wrong, Hillary?” came her voice right in his ear.
She had been circling around him for a while and had stopped behind him. She was almost as tall as him now.
“Nothing, milady.” He tried to seem his usual neutral self, but his voice betrayed him.
Lara had never heard a more erotic sound than his husky voice. She felt a shiver spiralling through her body.
He felt her walk away and closed his eyes, disappointed and relieved at the same time. A second later, he heard the key turning in the door.
“Dear Penthouse,” Hillary thought, trying to ease the tension his mind spread through his body.
“Come on, Hillary, you can tell me. Come here!”
She patted on the mattress, inviting him to sit next to her on the bed. He did as he was told. Lara was inexperienced around the opposite sex and it soon became obvious. She had wanted to taunt Hillary, but her initiative backfired.
Hillary looked at her hand, patting his knee, encouragingly. His gaze swept over her arm and breast and neck and fixed on her full lips long enough to make her uncomfortable. Her tongue protruded from her mouth, moistening those sinful lips made Hillary lose control. He leaned over and kissed her. Lara wriggled frightened, trying to get away from him, but he kept holding her head taking no notice of her fists hitting him furiously. When his tongue caressed her lips, she parted them involuntarily. The deeper the kiss became, the less powerful were her hits.
Acknowledging defeat she dropped her hands by her side. Hillary took her right hand and guided it gently, yet firmly towards his groin. Lara tensed again, but did not remove her hand when Hillary’s left it there. She explored that interesting area shyly with her fingers, causing Hillary to moan. He unbuttoned his trousers swiftly, his mouth never leaving hers. Lara touched him through the fabric of his underpants, enjoying the feel of his flesh getting harder beneath her fingers.
He pushed her suddenly on her back and ripped her shirt open. He was examining her superb, blossoming bosom with his hands and his mowhenwhen a voice from off spoke in his ear.
“Hillary, man, wake up! We’re landing in a minute!”
He opened his eyes, still shaken by the very vivid dream.
“Welcome back to reality!” Bryce teased him.
Hillary grunted and crossed his legs, trying to conceal the physical result of his fantasy. She was in mortal danger and he had that kind of fantasy! He was nothing but a sad weasel of a man!

~~~

Bryce looked over his shoulder when he signed the hotel register: Simon J. Hillary
“Simon? Your name is Simon?” Bryce asked when they got in the elevator.
“Yes. You are so nosy.” He reprimanded the wiz-kid.
“Does Lara know this?”
“Of course. Why do you ask?”
“Well, it was her suggestion to name my robot Simon. Maybe it was a subconscious thing.”
“I’m sure there was nothing subconscious about it.”
The doors opened with a pleasant musical sound and the two men walked to their rooms. Hillary was fighting the compulsion to ask Bryce every thirty seconds to check whether Lara had called knowing that they would’ve heard the phone.
He was more worried with every hour that passed. Nothing could possibly happen to her she was able to face anything. Hillary kept telling himself that, but the mantra was not working. Last time he had seen Lara, she was vulnerable and he had run away.
Hillary shook his head trying to push aside the dark thoughts. He went into Bryce’s room and saw that the young man had already set up a sort of a laboratory. The machines were humming and buzzing and Hillary felt useless. He could not even busy himself making the tea, so he sunk in an armchair, waiting for Bryce to give him some news.
“I got something!”
The words made Hillary jump up and run to the monitor.
“The people from the museum said Lara had gone somewhere outside the city. She found some interesting ruins just about here.” He pointed on the screen.
“What have you got?”
“I think she’s somewhere beneath. Something like a slight seismic activity was registered earlier today in this area.”
“Are you telling me that she might be somewhere beneath the ruins?”
“You know how these old settlements are, they’re built on top of the other. They pealed like seven lairs to find the Troy described in the Iliad.”
Hillary looked at him dumbstruck.
“Well, I lived with you and Lara for five years, something had to rub on me!” Bryce said explanatory.
Hillary shook his head.
“Let’s just go!”
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The Treasure at Home