The Uncharted Tales

Chapter 2

"Nate," Sully tried again, "we can't stay here. I've got a job offer, and I can't teach you much if we're holed up in this place."

This place being one of his various rentals; Sully never kept his safehouses under the same name, and for once he was glad he was a paranoid asshole himself. Marlowe couldn't track them down here, not through any official means. But, eventually, their luck was going to run out.

Nate sent him a withering glare. "I told you-"

"Yea, yea, I can go whenever I want, but I'm not gonna walk out on you now." Nate had that same disbelieving look, like he'd learned everyone was a selfish crook, and Sully huffed a sigh. "You gotta give me somethin', kid. What's got you so tied down here?"

Nate's stubborn gaze remained glued on the note pages for lengthy pause, then with a little nod to himself he pushed out of the armchair and began packing his bag.

Sully pinched the bridge of his nose. Jesus, are teenagers always like this? "What the hell are you doin', Nate?"

The kid wouldn't look at him as he tucked his journals safely away – because apparently one wasn't enough – and the muttered response he provided did nothing to answer his question, "Packing."

Sully rolled his eyes skyward. "Yea. I can see that. Wanna tell me what for?"

"I'm staying."

An incredulous laugh burst from him, and he instantly regretted it when the kid's body posture locked up, and an injured look flashed across his face. "Why? What the hell do you wanna stay here so bad for, huh?" He gestured vaguely at the room around them. "You gonna go back to living on the street with the clothes on your back?"

Nate scowled up at him, but it seemed to do the trick in breaking down one of his many walls. "I'm not leaving. I-" He paused, probably to figure out how to phrase whatever he was about to say. "I've got business here."

Okay, that was progress. "And what kind of business would that be?" He prompted.

"I'm... waiting for someone." Nate's movements slowed down to a stop, and he tensed in that same way as back in the diner, after Sully saved him from Marlowe's men, ready to bolt at the drop of a hat.

"Kid," Sully sighed, "you've gotta move past the one-liners and tell me what the hell's going on if we're gonna be partners."

He bristled. "I've already got a partner," The kid snapped.

Sully paused. That, he hadn't expected, and suddenly he had the gut instinct he had to tread with caution, so he nodded carefully. "Alright. Okay." Goddamn plot thickens. "How about you introduce us, and we'll talk about it over lunch?" He suggested.

The kid's fingers fiddled with the strap of his bag, anguish engrained in the lines of his features. Sully could tell he was torn up about this, whatever it was, and it took an uncomfortably long time for Nate to find the words. "I can't," He murmured. "He's... he's in jail for four more months."

Sully let out a breath. There had been that nagging little thought that dragging Nate along with him would be complicated; nothing was ever that easy, anyway. He also knew that the kid hadn't been working all on his own; there was no way he travelled all this way without some sort of help – or some kind of blackmail, manipulation...

That begged the question – who the hell was this partner of his? Was continuing on like this worth all the trouble?

Sully shook his head. "And you want to be here when he gets out?"

Nate bobbed his head, shrinking down into a lost little boy in the middle of his living room, and Sully felt his jaded heart soften. "I owe him that," He said so quietly Sully almost couldn't even hear him.