Chapter Text
Lara finished scribbling the solved formula she’d been working on in her favorite leather journal before finally flipping it closed and sighing with relief, reclining back in her office chair. Looking around the curious room out of the corner of her eye, she smiled to herself. She had to hand it to Dad — the basement was a great place to get away from it all and let yourself be absorbed.
She sighed, looking over to the little picture of them that Richard Croft had left on his desk before departing for Skull Island. Who could have known he would never return? Reaching out, she traced the side of his face with the tip of her index finger. Pictures in frames had always littered the Croft office desk, but this one stood the test of time as her favorite.
“Love you, dad,” she whispered softly. If she strained really hard, if she closed her eyes, she could almost hear his unwavering response.
Dad loves you, Sprout.
Her phone buzzed, jerking her from her thoughts. Glancing down to the vibrating device, she smiled as she picked it up and answered it.
“Mason,” she hummed. “What’s up? Everything alright?”
“Hey, pretty girl!” came Mason’s zealous response. “Just wanted to hear your voice.”
Lara blushed, rolling back and forth in her office chair as she kicked her feet up on her desk and giggled.
“What are you up to, Weaver?”
“I just finished the book tour in America,” Mason responded. “We’re all pretty tired, but it was really special.”
Mason had created a photographic biography of the expedition to Skull Island, with Lara’s oft-requested approval. Of course, the raider had said yes every time. When those brown eyes wanted something of her, there was nothing she wouldn’t give, nothing she could refuse her love. The book, of course, had blown up, and when Mason was invited to tour The United States for publicity, James Conrad had insisted to join as her personal security. Major Chapman had also come along to be interviewed as a consultant at panels, leaving Lara home at Croft Manor to eagerly await the photographer’s arrival with bated breath.
“How did everyone take it?” Lara asked, setting her phone down on the desk and putting it on speaker.
“It was amazing, Lara, really. It was so surreal. I mean, we went through hell on that trip, and I don’t gloss over that stuff, but the island-”
“I know.” Lara smiled softly, reflectively — a little wistful, a little melancholic. “It was beautiful.”
“Right,” Mason agreed. “And it’s where we fell in love.”
“That’s the cheesiest line you could’ve come up with, Weaver,” Lara grimaced, but delighted in the sound of Lara’s twinkling laughter over the other line. “I’m so happy it went well. I miss you a lot.”
“I miss you too,” Mason murmured, and Lara could hear the smile in her voice.
“When will you be back?”
“It hasn’t changed since you last asked, Lara,” the blonde laughed. “Tomorrow. I promise.”
“I’ll be there. I’ll pick you up from the airport in my sexy motorcycle.”
Mason hummed contentedly.
“I’ll see you then. I love you, Lara.”
“I love you too, darling. Take care.”
And Lara set the phone down beside the newest picture on the old Croft desk — a photograph of Mason Weaver, grinning ear-to-ear with a chunky Kodak in her hands.