Mani

by Alicia McKenzie

Archaeology tended to be a frustrating discipline, full of false starts and dead ends, at best. When you practiced it in a slightly more energetic fashion, one that involved more tomb raiding than spade work, the dead ends could become literal things. Success, when it came, was something to be celebrated.

This time, success was embodied in a pair of very old, exquisite Tibetan prayer wheels, which were now safely tucked away in protective cases, ready to travel. Lady Lara Croft stared at them pensively for a moment, wondering how much difficult she'd have getting them out of the country. The Chinese government could be difficult about antiquities.

She'd have to cross the bridge when she came to it, Lara told herself, toying idly with the end of her long dark braid. Surely, compared to what she'd gone through to find the prayer wheels, the red tape would be a minor obstacle at best.

Fretting about it, in any case, was senseless. Lara leaned back against the headboard of the bed and watched the lean, sandy-haired man filling two glasses with qinke wine. There were so many more enjoyable things she could be doing with her time.

Hillary and Bryce would undoubtedly be appalled to know that she was entertaining Alex West in her hotel room. Hillary in particular; she could almost hear him now, fussing about her lack of propriety and 'unladylike' behaviour.

But then, her loyal butler and brilliant technical expert were back in merry old England, while she was here in Lhasa with very little else to do, and absolutely no intention of leaving the prayer wheels in the room to seek recreation elsewhere. This might be as upscale a hotel as one could find in Tibet, but she hadn't gotten this far by being incautious.

Her conscience chose that moment to point out, rather sternly, that very little of what she'd done with Alex over the last several weeks could be considered 'cautious'.

But one couldn't deny that it had been a great deal of fun.

Alex turned, a glass in each hand, and gave her a crooked smile. The look in his pale blue eyes was definitely appreciative, and Lara found herself wishing she'd taken the time to get changed into something other than the dusty, disheveled clothes she'd been wearing in the field today. But Alex had shown up at her door, wine bottle in hand, before she'd had the chance to do more than stow her gear. Perhaps the sensible thing to do would have been to ask him to come back in an hour, but there had been some very nervous moments in that ruined monastery today.

A little tension relief never hurt anyone, did it?

Alex took a sip from his glass and made a face. "This stuff is stronger than I thought," he said, handing her the other glass.

"Of course it is," she said. Alex hesitated, then sat down at the foot of the bed, quite clearly respecting her personal space, and Lara smiled slightly, amused. There were a multitude of words she would have used to describe Alex West. 'Gentlemanly' wasn't even on the list. "If it wasn't as potent, it wouldn't be as much fun."

He smiled ruefully. "Fun? Something tells me I won't find this very fun in the morning," he said, never breaking eye contact.

"Do you always complain so much?" Lara asked archly, drawing a leg up under her and massaging the back of her neck as she rolled her head back and forth for a moment. She'd taken a bit of a fall this afternoon; nothing serious, but enough to leave her a bit stiff. The hot shower would have been helpful. Perhaps she should ask Alex to join her?

No, that would be entirely too forward.

"You're right. We should enjoy our evening." Alex raised his glass. "Here's to us," he proposed, his smile almost mischievous.

"To success," Lara temporized, just to see his reaction.

He blinked, and gave her a look something like that of a kicked puppy. She was almost sure it was a act. "You didn't like my toast?" he asked plainitively.

"Let's just say, I don't want you to get ahead of yourself, Mr. West." There was no need to let him take the initiative, after all.

Those remarkable blue eyes actually sparkled. "I'm back to Mr. West, am I--Lady Croft?" he said, almost mockingly. "I thought we'd gotten past that a month ago."

She gave him a smile, discarding the act. The role of ice queen had never sat well with her, after all. "Very well. Alex."

"Thank you. Lara," he said with a deadpan look, imitating her tone precisely. Lara chuckled softly, and her eyes strayed to the cases containing the prayer wheels again, almost involuntarily. Alex noticed, and raised an eyebrow. "You worried about getting these things out of the country?" he asked casually.

He was sharp, she had to give him that. "Not particularly," she said breezily, determined not to let him see anything more of her concern. "There's a way to approach these things. You just have to know who to talk to."

Alex smirked. "And whose palm to grease?"

"I always thought that was such a vulgar expression," she said with a dismissive gesture. He shifted forward on the bed, catching her hand before she could let it fall back to her side. Lara stiffened slightly, but the dazzling smile he gave her dissolved the flash of resistance.

"I'll have to remember to watch my language," he said quietly, his eyes dancing.

"No need," she said, trying for a casual tone. Not quite managing it. "I rather like you the way you are."

All the customary stereotypes about Americans aside, he was--more than pleasant company. He was certainly capable. Undeniably handsome. And he told the most deliciously ribald stories. Lara was certainly she'd laughed more in the last six weeks than in the past year. He was a fresh breeze in what had become an increasingly lonely life, and she was going to be sorry to bid farewell to this job and their time alone together.

Of course, nothing precluded them from arranging other times--

"Should I take that as a compliment?" Alex inquired, raising her hand to his lips and kissing it.

It was a surprisingly courtly gesture, and she felt the color rise in her cheeks, just a little. The man was a genius at catching her off-guard. "If you like,' Lara said as demurely as she could manage, and looked up at him through lowered eyelashes as she took another sip of her wine.

They talked for a while about the prayer wheels and the other, less valuable but interesting artifacts they'd found. It had been a very fruitful trip, in the end. Lara knew she would not have been nearly as successful without him; his help had been invaluable. Not that she was going to admit that to him, of course--

Alex was soon forced to fetch the bottle from where he'd left it on the table, so that he could refill her glasses. The conversation began to stray into other areas, most inconsequential - even under the influence of an increasing amount of qinke, Lara wasn't prone to talking about her past - and all relatively light.

She told him about some of her more colorful adventures. He told her some more of his off-color jokes, some of which he'd told her before, but Lara found herself laughing just as hard the second time around. Perhaps it was the alcohol, or a combination of that and the satisfaction from a job well-done, but she hadn't felt this relaxed in a long time.

At some point, they finished the bottle. Sprawled on the bed, feeling rather mellow and quite pleasantly muddled, Lara giggled softly as Alex relieved her of her glass, claiming that he didn't want her to break it and cut herself by accident.

"You're saying I'm clumsy?" she said, mock-indignantly as he half-sat, half-fell back onto the bed beside her.

"Hey, I was watching you navigating around those traps in that monastery today," he said, his words only slightly slurred. "Clumsy you're not, Croft."

She slapped at him. Or tried to. Her depth perception was playing tricks on her. Far too much qinke, Lara told herself. "Lady Croft, if you please," she said as haughtily as she could, trying to ignore the faint pang. Even after all these years, when people said 'Croft', she looked around for her father. "Or Lara, at least."

"Lara," he said with exaggerated courtesy, and offered her a hand. She took it, and he pulled her up to a sitting position. "If you were male," he pointed out, "this is one of those circumsht-circumstances where the phrase 'drunk as a lord' would be appropriate'."

"Yes, but I'm not," Lara pronounced, poking at his chest. His broad, muscular chest--good heavens, when had she developed such a one-track mind? It was quite distressing.

Alex caught her hand, grinning. "A lord? Or drunk?" She started to say 'either', but he pulled her closer and kissed her rather seriously. Lara's head started to spin again. Drawing back after a long moment, he continued to stare down at her, those blue eyes softer, but strangely steady. "God, you're beautiful," he said, reaching up and brushing the stray locks of hair that always seemed to escape her braid away from her face.

Lara laid her hands against his chest, grasping the thin cotton material of his shirt tightly. "I appreciate compliments as much as the next girl," she said as clearly as she could, "but there's a time for words, and a time for deeds, Mr. West."

"This being the latter?"

"What a bright boy you are," she purred, as he kissed her again. This time, his lips drifted downwards, and Lara shivered as his hand slid around to the small of her back, then up under the fabric of her shirt. "Although this is moving considerably beyond the normal bounds of the employer-employee relationship," she said. Her voice came out low and husky.

"That was the plan," Alex murmured, almost triumphantly.

***

Opening her eyes, Lara closed them again almost immediately. Not a good idea, she thought, wincing. Then again, she probably deserved the headache. "Not a good idea at all," she muttered and took several deep breaths, willing the flutter of nausea to vanish. Her alcohol tolerance was generally quite high, but qinke wine was remarkably potent. What had she been thinking?

She laid there for a few minutes, as the grogginess receded to the point where she could think more clearly. It began to dawn on her that she was alone in the bed, and the realization was--irksome. She hadn't figured Alex for the type. With a sigh, Lara pulled the sheet around her and sat up, blinking around somewhat blearily.

"Alex?" she called tentatively. He wasn't in the room, and there was no noise from the bathroom. Lara frowned as she realized that his clothes weren't here, either. In fact, there was no trace that he'd ever been here, save for the two glasses sitting on the table beside the empty bottle.

She was still muddled enough that it took her a moment to process the evidence of her eyes. The two glasses and the bottle. The only things on the table.

The cases holding her prayer wheels were gone.

Cursing, Lara tumbled out of bed, seizing her discarded clothes and pulling them on as quickly as she could as she threw herself towards the door. Common sense told her that it was almost certainly too late, of course. He wouldn't have done this without being sure of his escape, because he knew very well what she'd have done to him if she'd caught him in the act.

Alex's room, just down the hall from hers, was empty. From all appearances, the cleaning staff had already been in, which suggested that he'd been gone for a while. At the front desk, she was grimly unsurprised to be told that Mr. West 'checked out early this morning, madam. He was rather eager to catch his plane.'

To catch his plane. The bastard. Had he done all of this simply to get his hands on her prayer wheels? She really hadn't given him credit for that much duplicity. A lack of foresight on her part, clearly.

Lara returned to her room, seething, and started to pack. Her plane wasn't until later tonight, but she had to do something to distract herself. Even so, the chagrin was liable to drive her mad.

It was a ridiculous situation, really. She had only herself to blame. She'd known what sort of man Alex was. That had been part of the bloody attraction in the first place. But she should have been more cautious, not relaxed her vigiliance so appallingly--

"Bugger," she said, softly and viciously, and put one of her guns into the much less conspicuous shoulder holster. Once Hillary and Bryce found out about this, she was never going to live this down.

And if she got her hands on Alex West, neither would he. He wouldn't get the chance to. She did, after all, make a point of cherishing her grudges.

Slinging her backpack over her shoulder, Lara strode from the room, cheeks flaming but head high.

fin

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