Now, let's find out how our heroes met, shall we?  Okay, okay, so it's an excuse to start writing about young people again, but you've got to write about what you know, right?  Obviously, this takes place about three years before Lara's life-changing plane ride.

"DREAM CATCHER"

by

Eric R. Umali

"Field Trip"

Lara Croft cursed under her breath as she ran down the hall, her Mary Janes clacking against the floor.

*Blast that Terry Campbell,* she thought, *she did this on purpose.*

As a student of the exclusive St. Bridget's Academy for Ladies, Lara was required to take part in a two-week academic field trip during this, her senior year.  Unfortunately for her, in her scant eighteen years, Lara had yet to learn the dangers of procrastination.  She knew now, as she had just a few minutes left to sign up for a program or be left behind.

She skidded around the corner into the Headmistress' office.  The matronly Mrs. Bank sat behind her desk, and checked her watch.

"Ah, Miss Croft.  You made it with five minutes to spare.  Congratulations."

"I'm sorry, Headmistress," Lara said breathlessly, "I've been busy lately."

"I'm certain," she replied.  Mrs. Bank pushed a large binder across to Lara, who took a seat.  "Here are the programs available for you to take.  I'm afraid that many of them are already full, but that _is_ the price one pays for procrastination."

Without reply, Lara looked over the listings.  As she feared, the historical tours of Paris and Rome had been filled quickly, as had the photography workshops in New York and London.  There were a number of other programs, each one filling the young woman with more and more dread.  Finally, she found one that didn't make her cringe, and signed her name.

Mrs. Bank raised her eyebrows.  "An archaeological dig in Egypt?  I must admit, Miss Croft-- I'm surprised, and impressed."

"Thank you, Mrs. Bank," said Lara.  She left after being dismissed, and plopped herself down on her bed.  Daddy had pulled strings at the school and secured Lara a single room, something she was extremely grateful for at the moment.  She was angry enough to strangle anyone unfortunate enough to get near her now.

*Stuck for two weeks in some stuffy tent in the stifling heat, crawling through dusty tombs… ugh.  This is a disaster.*

**********

Lara and a half dozen of her classmates trudged off the ramshackle bus.  They stood near the edge of a small ravine, looking down into the small tent city of the dig.

"So is someone supposed to meet us, or…?" asked Tracey.

In response, they heard the sound of heavy boots clumping up the trail towards them from the dig.  When he came into sight, even Lara had to gasp.

He stood nearly six feet tall, made of wiry, corded muscle and smooth tanned skin, which they saw plenty of as he was wearing shorts and his shirt hung open.  A wide-brimmed fedora sat on his head, which he proceeded to remove and wipe his brow, revealing straight jet-black hair that hung to his ears.  He couldn't have been much older than the girls, and was ruggedly handsome.

He walked up to them confidently.  "Hi there.  I'm John Talbot, and I'm in charge of your seminar program."

John looked them over.  *Another bunch of spoiled little daddy's girls,* he thought to himself.  *Not going to be getting much work out of this crew.*  No wonder the dig supervisor had put them under his care.  They were all about four or five years younger than him-- just ending high school while he was getting an early start to his graduate work.  His gaze stopped at the last young woman.

She stood maybe five foot seven, with a lithe, lean body and long, shapely limbs, all accentuated by some pretty dangerous curves.  A gorgeous face was set behind an expensive pair of sunglasses, and where the other girl's hairdos were wilting in the heat, she had tied hers into a sensible braided ponytail.  Involuntarily, his eyes flicked again to her chest, and then back to her eyes.

"If you'll follow me," he continued, "I'll show you ladies to your tents.  You can relax for an hour or so, and then at… four o'clock, I'll take you on a tour of the dig, okay?"  He headed back down the path, the girls right behind him.

Lara stayed towards the back.  Had she really caught him staring at her?  Lara knew very well that she was attractive, but there was something about this John Talbot's attention that was different.  She could hear the sotto voce chatter of the girls in front of her.

"He's absolutely delicious," said Tracey.

"Gorgeous," agreed Lisa.  "And a university man, too, no doubt."

A while after, the girls-- much more attentive that they had expected to be-- followed John eagerly around the camp.  Lara again hung back, surprised at how interesting the work that was going on around her was.  She'd done well in her history courses, and sat attentively through a few archaeological lectures, but had never seriously given it any study.  She looked back to where John was obviously enjoying having a half-dozen teenaged girls following him around, hanging on his every word.  She snorted derisively.

John continued the lecture he'd prepared, but halfheartedly.  He looked at the girls.  Almost all of them stared, apparently absorbing every detail, but one look in their eyes, and he could tell that there weren't any lights on inside.  Except for that brunette, Lara.  He noticed how closely Lara was examining the artifacts and the work sites, and how little attention she was paying to his tour.

A short time later, they sat around a campfire, eating dinner.  John was enjoying himself, watching the girls turn green as they got their first taste of homemade Egyptian food and still try to act tough.

Maria was the first to set hers aside.  "So, John, tell us about yourself."

"A dull subject, but I suppose a round of introductions is in order."  He took a swig of coffee.  "Well, I'm twenty-two, and I got my bachelor's degree in archaeology last June."

"Kind of early, no?" said Tracey.

"Yeah, I guess I'm kind of an overachiever.  Anyway, I'm doing graduate work now, part of which, obviously, is this dig.  I hail from New York, New York, where my folks are both very wealthy and not terribly pleased with my choice of vocations."

"It sounds like you could've been anything you wanted," Lara said finally.  "Why an archaeologist?"

John smiled.  "And why not an MBA?  Because I believe in the idea that those who don't learn from the past are doomed to repeat it.  The more people can learn about the past, the better."

"That's probably the most practical description of archaeology I've ever heard."

He shrugged.  "What about you?  How about you start the introductions?"

"Like he'd care about any of us," whispered Lisa, out of earshot.

"Well, I suppose it's pretty simple.  Rich parents, life of ease, spoiled little rich girl, just like I'm sure you expected."

"And refreshingly candid, as well.  What got you out here on this program."

"Well…" Lara began.

"She didn't have a choice," quipped Tracey, relishing the chance to take Lara down a notch.  "By the time she remembered to sign up, there was nothing left."  The look Lara shot her could've melted steel.

John, though, laughed it off.  "Maybe it's kismet.  Oh, well.  So, who's next?"

The girls took turns introducing themselves.  Lara watched in fascination.  It was like a small group of female peacocks trying to fluff up their plumage to attract a male, the way they tried to present themselves as intellectual, or adventurous, or exceptionally honest.  They all failed miserably, though John was, naturally, enjoying the attention.

Lara couldn't help glancing over at the young man every now and then.  If he wasn't so infuriatingly down-to-earth and pleasant and intelligent, it would've been easy for her to write him off as another pretty boy.  But damn her if he wasn't terribly handsome, too.

**********

The program ended up being quite different than any of the St. Bridget's girls had expected.  They were roused from their cots just an hour or so after sunrise and hustled off to any of a dozen small work sites where they worked for most of the day.  Most of their duties consisted of digging, brushing and vacuuming, while the more interesting jobs of cataloguing the artifacts were left to the archaeological students like John.

By the end of the first two days, John estimated he'd gotten eight complaints of broken nails, four of ruined hairdos, and two of the ladies had suddenly found themselves at "that time of the month."  He'd been warned that they'd try to shirk their responsibilities, so he treated every excuse with great suspicion.

One particularly sweltering afternoon, Lara found herself dropping to her seat in exhaustion.

"That's it," she moaned, "no more.  I'm finished."

"That's disappointing," said a voice from above.  "You showed such promise."

John nonchalantly slipped into the work area, a rectangular dig about six feet by six feet, and five feet deep.  He helped Lara to her feet.

"Seems to me like that's a very hollow sentiment coming from someone who hasn't even broken a sweat yet."

He shook his head.  "It's all mind over matter, my dear Miss Croft.  You've just got to stop thinking 'hot,' that's all."

Lara wiped her brow.  "That's the biggest crock I've ever heard."

"You're right," John agreed, laughing.  He proceeded to pull a small foil package from a pouch on his trousers.

"What is that?"

"A chemical cold packet.  Instant cool."

In a flash, Lara was upon him, snatching the packet from his grip.  She drew the magic package across her face, down her neck, and then under the top of her shirt.  After a minute, she held it out to him.

John shook his head.  "Keep it.  At the risk of sounding crass, I have to admit I'm a bit jealous of it now."

Lara smiled.  "I'm just grateful enough to let that go."

"All right, then.  Just don't tell anyone I gave it to you.  I'm not supposed to show favoritism to any of you young ladies."

"Then why are you?" Lara asked, crossing her arms in front of her.

"Quite frankly, you're the only one who shows any kind of promise.  You ever consider studying this seriously?"

"Oh, Lord, no," she snorted.  "You may be happy bucking expectations, but I am quite content with living in the lap of luxury."

"That's too bad," John sighed.  "Just too damn bad."

A quiet moment passed.  Finally, John broke the silence.  "Come on.  Most of the camp's taking the rest of the day off and heading into town for some fun.  You game?"

"Isn't that going to annoy the esteemed head of this dig, Professor Arbogast?"

"Yes," John answered plainly.

"Then the answer is most definitely 'yes'."

Using a shovel for leverage, John nimbly flipped out of the trench.  He watched wide-eyed as Lara followed suit.

"A gymnast, eh?" he asked.

"That's right."

"Sounds like we'll have plenty to talk about tonight, then."

Lara playfully looped her arm around his.  "Are you asking me on a date, Mr. Talbot?"

"Only if the answer is still 'yes'."

"We'll see."

Arm in arm, the pair headed off into the Egyptian sunset.

**********

Lara rolled over sleepily.  Sitting up, she began stretching her long, lithe frame.

*Yes, those were good days,* she thought.  *_Very_ good days.*

After a long, hot shower, Lara began picking through her rather limited wardrobe.  Before she knew it, she had selected a decidedly flirtatious short sundress.  Lara looked over her choice.

*Oh, hell,* she thought, pulling it on, *I don't get to do the girly thing too often nowadays.*

Opening the minibar, she poured herself a glass of juice and sat down, wondering what John Talbot had in store for her today.

TO BE CONTINUED…