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5; A NORMAL LIFE
FINE LINE - HARRY STYLES
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NATE STOOD IN his attic, looking through all of his old writings of adventure and the thrills he used to have. He would gaze at them from time to time, missing the days when it was him, Sully, and Zara looking for lost cities and buried treasure without legal permits. Boxes of his theories of Sir Francis Drake were piled up around the walls, journals and photos of him and his friends shoved inside.
He began reminiscing about everything surrounding him, the feeling of nostalgia flooding his senses as he picked up a smaller statue of the goddess Kali. "I climbed your big brother some years back..." Nate chuckled to himself, picking it up and looking at the small, metal object. It was a reminder of a simpler time - when it was just treasure to him. He quickly placed it back down on the crate it had been sitting on, letting it's arms fall to its sides.
The next trinket that caught his eye was a metal skull, sitting on a metal shelf that he had built a few years ago. "Yeesh." Nate grimaced, picking it up and looking at its dips and design. "This is one of the stranger things that I've collected along the years..." He laughed - but it was more of a short and breathy exhale. Another object to remember for the years, Nathan guessed as he placed it back down.
A coin on another shelf caught his eye, and he fondly recalled the events of him going on the trip to find Sir Francis Drake's coffin and treasure alongside Sully, Elena, and Zara. In fact, he met Elena on that trip. "A Spanish doubloon found in a German U-boat..." Nate smiled as he flipped it between his fingers. "...In the middle of a jungle. Who woulda' thunk'?"
Gazing over a few of his piled boxes, he caught sight of his alleged ancestor's journal, chuckling lightly to himself as he looked over it. That journal had been through too much, and Nate slowly recalled the horror on both his and Zara's face when Gabriel Roman attempted to kill their dear friend. "Sir Francis Drake takes a bullet for Sully." Being able to laugh at that situation years later was a freeing thought.
A picture was tucked in between some of the pages in the Journal, and Nate slipped it out. It was taken of him, Zara, Sully, and Elena shortly after they hauled back Sir Francis Drake's ancient treasure. "Look at us." He fondly spoke, looking at the small message on the back that Elena had written. She had found it in one of her old reporter cameras from back in the day and put it in the journal. Sometimes, he missed her old camera antics.
Another old piece of memorabilia was placed on an old end table, a notebook from his journey to Shambala. "Hmph." He sighed, looking over it. Inside was a photo of him and Tenzin, a man he had met while in China. "I miss ya', pal." He spoke admirably - the man had saved his life, after all. Nate put the photo back in the notebook, tucking it away for another day.
A small test tube sat in one of his bookshelves, filled with little pebbles of the Cintamani Stone - of which he had recovered from Shambhala alongside Elena, Zara, and Chloe Frazer. "So many men killed each other for a piece of this." Nate expressed to himself, looking at the glowing stones and trying not to grimace at the thought of the hundreds of skeletons they found on their way to find it.
He shook the tube a few more times before putting it down and turning over towards the codebreaker that he had gotten back from Marlowe all those years ago. "Sire Francis and his elaborate puzzles." Nate scoffed, looking at the Latin letters engraved on the gold, circle puzzle in his hands. It had caused him, Sully, and Zara too much trouble - he couldn't truly admire the work anymore.
A box sat in the corner of the attic, and Nate carefully opened it. Inside sat his mother's journal, the cross of Saint Dismas, and Sam's old jean jacket. Over the fifteen years that his brother had been gone, Nate came to terms with it. He had a lot of help from Zara, who was the only one who really knew that he had a brother in the first place. His death hit her hard, too, even if she didn't know him too well.
First, he picked up the white journal with the initials C.M. on them. Cassandra Morgan - the woman that was obsessed with Sir Francis Drake's disappearance, and the mother of both Nathan Drake and Sam Drake. He began pulling out one of the photos in the journal, but the feeling of his brother was too overwhelming. "Nah..." He sighed, pushing it back in between the pages and placing the journal back in the box.
The second object in the box was the cross that he had used to find Avery's treasure all those years ago. "Yeah, thanks for nothing, Saint Dismas." He spat with distast. Zara was still looking for his treasure, but they were certain that the cross would do them no good. It seemed to only bring misfortune and bad luck. Nobody could even think to touch it after what happened in Panama.
With caution, Nate shut the box again, sighing deeply as he made his way across the attic again. Another one of his notebooks was stashed on a table, the label Iram of the Pillars taped to the front. "Now this was a crazy ride." He exclaimed, remembering how he ran through the sand dunes alongside Zara and Sully to try and get his ancestor's treasure away from Marlowe.
Inside was an old letter from an old friend, and he could immediately recognize the small and fancy handwriting of Chloe Frazer.
Nate - How's things? I've been up to my usual shenanigans. Nothing major, but enough to keep the heat on and the wine stocked.
I caught wind of something that sounded right up your alley - and should you ever change your mind, give me a yell. I'm always on hand for a quick getaway.
Love, Chloe.
Nate smiled at the note, missing his dear friend. "Maybe in another lifetime, Chloe." He sighed, putting the note back into his journal. "You should ask Zara for help on that one, sounds like she might need an adventure." He stated to himself, knowing that nobody could really hear him. Nate placed the notebook back down on the table, the overwhelming feeling of reminiscence forming a deep pit in his stomach.
His fiancée's voice echoed up to the attic from the downstairs area of his house, snapping him out of his thoughts. "Hey, Nate!" Elena yelled. "Are you coming down to eat?" She asked, causing the delicious smell of spaghetti to waft up towards the top of the attic.
"Yeah! Yeah, I'll be right there!" Nathan replied.
Slowly, he opened the attic hatch, brushing his hands against his jeans before sliding down the ladder towards the downstairs of his house. Surrounding him was posters of everywhere he had been on his adventures. Nepal, China, Brazil, everywhere that had caused him trouble. No matter where he and Elena went, he always needed some kind of vacation. It was the closest he could get to his old life.
Ridding his mind of those thoughts, Nathan walked downstairs, stepping across the hardwood floors and into the kitchen and living room. Elena greeted him from the couch, a laptop sitting on her lap and her feet resting against the coffee table. "You were up there for a long time." She teased, continuing to type away on her computer as Nate scoffed and replied.
"Well - I was researching something." He stated, trying to cover up the fact that he had been missing the thrilling life of treasure hunting.
"Is that what we're calling it these days?" Elena asked sarcastically.
"I was!"
Elena scoffed, shaking her head and laughing under her breath. "Would you mind grabbing the food?" She asked, the sound of her fingers clicking against her laptop keyboard filling the silence after her question. "I'm just wrapping up here." She added, nodding towards Nathan before turning back to her screen. She had stayed a reporter, even after retiring her ancient finds with Nate.
"Yeah, sure thing." Her fiancée smiled, walking into the kitchen and standing in front of the fridge. It was covered in old sticky notes and grocery lists, beside old bills and photos of old vacations.
Nate picked out two beers out of the fridge and held them in one hand, turning around to face the island counter. Two bowls of spaghetti sat atop it, and he quickly grabbed them, as well. He stepped back over to the living room, watching as Elena pulled her feet off the coffee table and shut her laptop. She took one plate of spaghetti thankfully in her hands, smelling it before smiling towards Nate.
"Did you finish it?" He asked her as she folded her leg on the couch.
"Yeah!" Elena smiled, shoveling some spaghetti into her mouth before talking again. "You know, it's probably too long and full of typos, but that's what editors are for, right?" She joked, earning a small 'heh' from her fiance. "God, I'm starving." She exclaimed, putting more and more pasta into her mouth as she ate. She had been working on the article since the break of dawn.
"It looks good." Nate complemented her cooking gratefully, eating some of the spaghetti as well. It was delicious, as usual. He adored her cooking, since it was a hobby that she had taken up after they got engaged. It was a good thing to get into, especially since Nate was at work a lot more than usual. They were planning on upgrading their house, since they were getting married and needed some space.
Elena, mouth full of food, smiled towards her future husband. Well, technically, they had already gotten eloped, but nobody really needed to know that. They were going to get properly hitched in the coming few years. "So - wa wzz yr dy?" Elena asked, her full mouth causing her words to muffle and jumble to the point where no normal human could understand her words.
Nathan looked at her with wide eyes and an amused smile. "What?" He laughed, shaking his head at his fiancée's antics. Elena looked at him with a confused look - her words sounded like perfect English in her head. Nathan pointed his fork at her, taking another chunk of noodles and shoving them in his mouth. "I got none of that." He stated at his fiancée, smiling adoringly at her.
"Oh, sorry." She laughed, swallowing down her pasta before talking again. "How was your day?" She asked, clarifying her earlier question.
"Oh!" Nate smiled. "It was fine - a typical day in paradise." He chuckled sarcastically, eating more pasta off his fork. "I got to pull a bunch of garbage out of a river."
Elena nodded, interest covering her features. "At least you got to go for a swim." She shrugged, eating more spaghetti. "Did you find any exciting garbage?"
Her fiancée laughed at her phrasing. "Oh - some brilliant stuff." He replied, his voice thick with sarcasm once again. "It was an early twenty-first century truck, we got." Nate explained. "Apparently the natives called it a 'semi'." He stated, making Elena laugh at his antics. "So, all boring stuff." He shrugged, pointing his fork at her again. "Tell me about the article."
"Well, it started out as this fluff piece-" She began. "-all about tourism in Bangkok, but I don't think the magazine is gonna like the angle that I'm taking because-" Nate found his eyes drifting to a framed photo on his wall, a landscape of a beach and a jungle. "-Everyone immediately commented about how rude the smog was. It was like a shock to the lungs the second you got off the plane-"
The picture almost came to life in front of Nate. He could feel himself jumping from rock to rock, swinging across his grappling hook, feeling the wind against his skin again. He longed for that feeling of adrenaline again, even if it was just for one more time. He was fine with settling down, but he had no closure. The final trip he went on was to stop Marlowe, and he hardly called that an adventure.
He wanted to be on Sully's plane again, sitting beside Elena and her big camera, and across from Zara with her research journal. He just wanted that adventure again, that feeling of being out in the world, that feeling of running from something - or someone. He hated it at the moment, all he wanted was a normal life as a kid. But the people surrounding him showed him that his job was one of a kind. And now, he missed it.
A fork poking at his shoulder woke him from his trance. Elena held her silver utensil up at him, still chewing at the pasta. "Where are you?" She asked, her eyes soft with care.
"I'm here - being stabbed with a fork!" He replied, rubbing his shoulder in fake pain.
"Interesting." Elena nodded, looking down at her bowl. "What's my article about?"
"Wha- this one?" Nate asked for confirmation, internally panicking.
"Mhm."
He thought for a moment, digging his brain. He was listening, but his brain was hyper fixated on the photo and the feeling of adventure again. So, he took a wild guess with the knowledge that the article was about something in Bangkok. "The people of - of - ah, Bangkok, and - the smog, and how they - they can't get a flight anywhere, and people can't breathe..."
"Wow." Elena leaned back, her face in a sly smile.
Nate accepted his defeat, shaking his head. "All right, I'm sorry."
"No, it was valiant." Elena nodded, laughing. "That was really-"
"I was in the ballpark, right?"
"In a different state." She laughed, making Nate do the same. "But yeah, you were in a ballpark." Silence overcame them for a few moments, and Elena nearly read his mind as she ate a meatball off her bowl. She knowingly nodded towards him. "Jameson asked you about that Malaysia job again, didn't he?" Elena asked, her lips turning into a straight line as Nate nodded.
"Jameson always asks me about the Malaysia job." He replied.
"Look..." Elena began. "I really think that you should take it."
"You know what - I don't want it." Nate added, only for Elena to give him a look that purely said 'I don't believe you'. "Really!" He stated. "I mean - he doesn't have the permits, and we agreed that we're not gonna take that kind of work anymore!" Nate tried to convince her that he was doing the right thing, but honestly, it seemed more like he was convincing himself. "It's just not worth it."
"Okay..." Elena nodded. "But it doesn't sound that risky, all right? If it's just the permits-"
"No way."
"You could call Sullivan, or Zaïre!"
Nathan let out a deep sigh.
"You haven't seen them in what, two years?"
"Elena, can we please drop this?" Nate pleaded desperately.
His fiancée sighed, poking at the remaining pile of spaghetti in her bowl. "I just don't want you to not take it because of me." She stated, the promise they had made when Nate retired becoming fresh in her mind once again.
"I'm not taking it because of us, okay?" Nate sighed, placing his bowl on the table. "I appreciate the gesture, it's just-" He cut himself off. He really didn't know why he was taking it. He wanted to retire - It was his choice in the first place!
Elena took a deep exhale, putting her fork in her bowl and standing up. "I'm gonna go ahead and do the dishes." She stated, grabbing both of the bowls and walking around Nate's legs towards the kitchen.
"Stop - I'll do them." Nate offered. "Hold on!"
"You did them last night!" Elena debated.
"No - you cooked, I clean, it's fine." Nate added to his own argument, but he knew he was getting nowhere. Elena was the good kind of stubborn, and she continued walking towards the kitchen with the dishes. "At least let me - let me try to earn it or something." He held up his hands, making wild gestures with them. "Let me - uh - play you for it!" Nate smiled, happy that he had come up with a solution.
His fiancee looked at him with wide eyes and a smile on her face. "You'll 'play me for it'?"
"Yeah - yeah!" Nate grinned, pointing towards the television console across from him. "Your little T.V. game - thing." He added. "I bet I can beat your high score."
Elena scoffed, amused. "You think that you can beat my high score on my 'T.V. game thing'?"
"Yeah - I think you're scared now."
"You don't even know what it's called!" Nate's fiancée laughed, the bowls of leftover spaghetti still in her hands.
"I don't need to know what it's called - I've seen you play." He replied. "It's jumping and running and I have a natural talent for that."
She laughed again, her smile widening. "Oh really?"
"So what do you say, chicken?" He teased. "Is that a bet?" Before Elena could answer, he began to make chicken clucking noises with his mouth, making fun of her.
"Oh, wow." Elena chuckled at her fiancée's movements, placing down the bowls on the coffee table. "Okay, cowboy." She walked over to the old console that she bought a while back, loading in a game that she had an ultimate high score in. Crash Bandicoot on the PlayStation 1. She wasn't a video game fanatic, but when she got her hands on the controller and played that game, it was like she was in a totally different world.
"Watch and learn." Nate spoke playfully, grabbing the controller.
"Oh, I'm learning all right."
"Is this it?"
"No, it has to load."
"Load?"
"Yes."
"This is taking a really long time."
"You have no patience."
"When you turn something on, you expect it to - Okay, here we go. 'Crash Bandicoot'."
"Is there a problem?"
"No - No. Just - ah, how do you - ah - How do you make it go?"
"Push the 'start' button."
"I knew that."
"All right. Okay, so you want to run towards the camera."
"Run to the camera. Got it."
"And the 'circle' button is your spin attack."
"Spin attack?!"
"Okay, run away from the boulder!"
"Why is the boulder chasing me?"
"Just run away from it."
"I did nothing to this boulder!"
"Use your spin attack! Wait - jump - jump!"
"Stop yelling at me!"
"I'm encouraging you! I'm coaching you. Keep going, keep going."
"What is that thing, a fox?"
"A bandicoot."
"Looks like a fox. It's like a fox in jeans."
"Okay, smash the boxes."
"Why is a fox smashing crates?"
"Bandicoot - and that's just - it's what he does."
"It's a fox and it's not very realistic. These graphics are pretty good, aren't they? By the way, foxes can't do this."
"It's a bandicoot."
"That doesn't look anything like a bandicoot."
"Have you ever seen a bandicoot?"
"Uh - no, but I'm sure they don't wear sneakers."
"That was - That wasn't - not too bad. Is that it?"
"You gotta be kidding me! I practically had it."
"You can give it another shot. Double or nothing - my car could really use a good cleaning."
"Really? You're gonna start the smack talk now?"
"Yeah, there's this mode called 'easy' mode, I just switch it."
"Wow."
"It's way easier on 'easy' mode."
"You know - just keep talking, keep talking."
"What are you gonna do?"
"I'm warning you!"
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DAYS LATER, Nate sat at the main desk at the docks of Jameson Marine Incorporated. The office room was tiny, but it fit enough filing cabinets to put the paperwork in. Nathan scribbled his signature on pieces of paper, stamping them down before placing them in the 'done' pile on the side of his desk. The blaring screen across from him was making it hard to concentrate, but it was pretty easy work.
Four even and smooth knocks came at the metal door across from Nate, immediately making him sigh. It was quite late in the evening, and they weren't going to be open for a while. "We're not open yet!" He yelled out, the only reply being seven more knocks from the person outside. "We're closed!" Five more knocks. "C'mon, man." Nate sighed, stamping the last form.
"All right!" He rolled his eyes, wheeling out of his chair and standing up. Blood rushed through his legs again, and he had only then noticed how long he had been sitting for - his legs were more sore than they were when he used to jump across cliffs. "Asshole..." He muttered, walking over towards the door and opening the doorknob to prevent the person from knocking any more.
He was faced with the back of a jean jacket, the man across from him standing at one of his colleague's desks. From the back, Nate could just make out his choppy hair that dropped down to his jaw, but everything else was hidden. If the moonlight wasn't pouring through the side window to his right, he wouldn't be able to see the form of the man who was persistently knocking at his office door.
"Can I help you?" Nathan asked.
The man nodded. "Yeah - I'm uh - lookin' for my little brother." He began, an American accent pouring through his words. Something in the tone struck Nate - hard -, and he really couldn't put his finger on where he had heard the voice before. The man standing across from him turned around, revealing the last person that Nathan Drake would ever expect to see.
His brother.
Just like Nathan, Sam had aged. He looked almost exactly like the younger brother had remembered him that night. The bird tattoo that climbed his neck, the slight smirk that he constantly held, and the long, slicked back hair that was always perfect. But Sam was dead, he had been dead for the fifteen years that followed the Panama incident. For fifteen years he was without his older brother.
"Sam...?" Nate asked, chuckling nervously a little. It covered his voice wavering. Something was pounding through his veins - and he couldn't tell if it was fear or relief. The fact that his brother had returned after years of being 'dead' was hitting him hard, but he was still in slight shock at the sight of Sam Drake standing in front of him. His body wanted to stumble backwards, but he stayed grounded.
His brother nodded slightly, his mouth turning into a slight smile. "It's good to see you again, Nathan." Sam's voice was hoarse with age and suffering, it was a wonder how he had held up without any deep scars visible on his face or neck. Nate took a moment to look over his brother, gazing down across his face as if he would never see him again after those few minutes.
Relief suddenly flooded Nate's body. "Oh my god, Sam!" It seemed to finally set in as he took a few steps forward, wrapping his arms around his brother's denim jacket. The smell of the gross and grimey adventure hadn't rubbed off of him yet, and it was a nostalgic feeling to inhale it for Nate. He had his brother back - all of the wishing he had done to every angel number and shooting star - it had come true.
"Woah!" Sam exclaimed, wincing slightly at the poor patch job done on his stomach. "All right - all right, take it easy." He grinned, equally as happy to see his younger brother once again. It was like it used to be. Surprising one another at the Catholic orphanage they went to as children. Except this time, it was much different. Fifteen years had thrown them both away from each other, and they both didn't know when - or if - they'd see each other again.
Nate stepped backwards again, releasing his arms from Sam's back. The thoughts were rushing to his head, and he was getting dizzy. He had too many questions to ask his older brother, though. "How-?" He began, trying to gather his words. "I thought you - I saw you get shot." Nate corrected himself, internally shivering at the memory of seeing his brother die in front of him and being dragged away by Zara.
"Yes, you did." Sam nodded, grimacing a little bit. He pulled up his black shirt and his denim jacket, revealing three, deep scars pierced into his stomach. "Right there." He pointed to the three circular scars, wincing at the harsh movement against the skin. They had been there for fifteen years, but the poor recovery job done on them made them hurt, even all those years later.
"Jesus..." Nate replied, his mouth hanging agape as he looked over the gruesome wound in his brother's stomach.
He returned his shirt back over his stomach. "The doctors they-" Sam interrupted himself, correcting the word by holding up quotation marks as he spoke. "-'Doctors' - they patched me up..." He paused, taking a few steps forward and walking right past Nathan and into his brother's office. "-And they tossed me right back into the cell." He slowly turned back around, facing Nate again and frowning deeply at the memory of his time in prison.
Nate still couldn't believe it, his eyebrows furrowing deeply in confusion. "Yeah - but I - I made calls - I checked everywhere." He replied to Sam's explanation of his story over the last fifteen years. "Everything I heard, everything I found - it all confirmed that you were dead." Disbelief was still striking him deep in his chest, the shock of seeing his brother wouldn't go away anytime soon.
Sam scoffed lightly, keeping his voice low so that nobody around would hear. "Nathan, we killed a guard." He stated, vaguely remembering Vargas' body on the floor that night. "They wanted to see me rot in that cell for the rest of my life." He took a deep breath, sighing and shaking his head as he turned towards his brother's desk. All of the memories of Panama were coming rushing back to him, and he didn't want to remember. "And I nearly did."
"Jesus, Sam." Nate exclaimed, stepping back a bit. "I - If I'd have known, I swear to you - I would've come afte-"
His older brother interrupted, turning back to Nathan and nodding. "You would've come back." He finished. "I know, I know." Sam smiled a little at his brother, his sunken cheekbones showing the structure of a man that had gone through hell. "What's important now, though - Is that I'm out." He laughed a little, despite the very dire situation that he was in.
Nate laughed in reply, but Sam could tell that it was a bit forced. His whole world for the past fifteen years had come crashing down on him. He placed his hand against the wall, breathing in deep and uneven breaths. He would have to tell Sully, Elena, he'd have to tell Zara - who was quite literally right beside him when Sam 'died'. Nate's panic was settling quickly, thankfully - he was a bit older and he had learnt to regulate those kinds of things.
"Hey-" Sam snapped his fingers at the sight of his brother. "Hey!" His voice was raised slightly, but it wasn't anywhere near a yell. "Are you still with me?" He asked, stepping forward and standing closer to his brother.
"Yeah." Nate convinced him, nodding a bit. "I need some air."
Sam understood. It wasn't everyday that you saw your brother - who was supposed to be dead - for the first time in fifteen years. He understood the shock that was going through Nathan's mind, so he nodded. Appearing from prison out of the blue wasn't exactly an easy triumph for him, either. Nate and Sam had always understood each other, even when they hadn't talked in fifteen years.
Knowing that, he walked behind Nate and followed him out onto the docks, the city skyline of New Orleans dancing across the fresh moonlight. The sun had just barely set just across the river, the sky dancing with the remaining purple and pink hues. Sam envied the life that his brother had - living in a city with all the luxuries, getting to watch the sunset every night. It was the life that Sam never got to have.
The eldest Drake brother pulled out his silver lighter and the box of cigarettes that he had from his pockets, lighting a smoke and stepping out onto the docks alongside Nate. "You're not gonna pass out on me or nothin', are you?" He asked, chuckling lightly as smoke followed his breath. He was always told that it was a nasty habit, but after years of lighting cigarettes, it wasn't exactly easy to stop.
Nathan laughed a bit in return, sitting against the back of the bench on the docks. "I just might." He admitted, stress evident in his straining voice. "It's a lot to digest, y'know?" He paused, stumbling on his words as he tried to find the right questions to ask. "How'd - how did you get out?" He began firing rapid questions towards Sam. "How'd you even get here? How'd you find me?"
Sam chuckled a little. "All right, all right - slow down, okay?" He smiled, walking around to the other side of the wooden bench. "Have a seat." Without question, Nate followed him, sitting down across from him on the bench. Sam continued. "I want to hear about you!" He placed his hand on the edge of the bench, handing his cigarette to his left hand before taking a large inhale of smoke.
"Me?" Nate asked.
"Yeah!"
"What's to tell?"
His older brother scoffed at that. What wasn't to tell? "Well, I called some of the old contacts." He replied, taking another drag of his cigarette. "They told me some pretty crazy-ass stories." Sam exclaimed, watching as Nate breathily chuckled at that.
Nate smiled. "What crazy stories?" He asked.
Sam laughed. "Gut-shot, hanging from a derailed train in the Himalayas?"
"Yeah..." Nate reminisced, recalling the whole situation with Chloe Frazer. She wasn't trustworthy, but she had her own goals. "That - ah, you can blame Zara for that one."
"God, I haven't heard that name in a while." Sam puffed out a large fume of smoke, still smiling at his brother. "Where's she nowadays?"
"We haven't talked in a while, but last I heard; she was bunked down in Mississippi, still trying to find something that could lead her to Avery." Nate replied. God, he really needed to call her. It had been too long since they talked, considering everything that they had done together over the years. Including the unexpected 'vacation' to the Himalayas in 2006 with Chloe Frazer and Zoran Lazarević.
"Huh." Sam replied shortly. "Then what did I miss? Something big had to have happened if Zara herself bunked down. She seemed set on finding-" He paused for a moment, gulping quietly. "-Avery's treasure."
Nathan chuckled, ringing his hands together. Where to even begin? Well, the beginning sounded like the best to recap the last fifteen years. "Okay - um, do you remember the theory that we had that Sir Francis Drake faked his own death?"
"Yeah, sure." Sam nodded.
"He did." Nate revealed. "We found the coffin."
"Off the coast of Panama?"
"Yeah!" Nathan replied excitedly. "And get this - okay, we open it up, right?"
"Right."
"And there's no body." He laughed, remembering the horrified look on Elena Fisher's face when he and Zara opened the coffin. "But at the bottom, is his old journal."
Sam's eyes widened, his mouth agape with shock and impression. "Are you shittin' me?"
━━♙━━
"THEN, WE GOT ROPED into breaking into this Turkish Museum." Nathan began telling his beloved story of how Chloe Frazer and Harry Flynn managed to double-cross both him and Zara. "We were supposed to steal this oil lamp."
Sam looked at him in a mix of confusion and amusement. "Oil lamp?"
"It was an artifact from Marco Polo's lost treasure fleet." Nate added.
His older brother leaned in, ignoring how late in the night it had gotten. "Kublai Khan's treasure!"
"Yeah!" Nate nodded. "And as it turns out, there was a whole hell of a lot more on those ships than just treasure.
━━♙━━
"DO YOU REMEMBER the beautiful astrolabe that I had that belonged to Sir Francis Drake?" Nate asked.
"Oh yeah..." Sam nodded thoughtfully. "The one that what's-her-name stole in Cartagena?"
"Yeah, Marlowe."
"Marlowe."
Nate smiled. "Well, we tracked it down. And, all I had to do was fake my own death."
Sam nodded, looking at his brother. "Sounds easy enough."
━━♙━━
"- I MEAN, WHAT CAN I SAY?" Nathan slowly finished telling Sam the stories that tied together the last fifteen years. Each adventure he had been on was another one for the books, but Nate only wished that Sam could've been there to experience them with him. Him, Sully, Elena, Zara, and Nathan would've made an amazing illegal treasure-hunting group. "Another lost city destroyed - and - uh - we made it out alive. Barely."
The older Drake brother shook his head in disbelief, taking another breath in his cigarette, smoke filling his lungs as he processed everything that Nathan had done without him. It was heartbreaking to hear that his brother had gone off without him, but he couldn't blame him. "Unbelievable." Sam exclaimed, hunched over with his hands on his knees as he breathed out another fume of smoke.
"Yeah - Yeah it was..." Nathan breathed out, turning his head to face his older brother once again. A long sigh left his lips - the last eight hours had still felt like some kind of dream that his mind had procured. Gazing at Sam, he realized just how much he had missed him over the years. "I wish you could've been there." He spoke lowly, his eyes darting between his hands to his brother.
Sam turned his head over towards Nathan in surprise. The way he told his stories of adventure showed that he had regret nothing. The only thing he wanted to change was the fact that his brother wasn't there. "No, it's literally unbelievable." Sam reinstated. "You tell me that you stumble upon yet another archaeological gold mine, and somehow you manage to walk away - with nothing."
Nate leant back against the bench, laughing breathily. "Yeah - well, it's the story of my life, I guess." He stated gratefully, not regretting grabbing any more of the Cintamani stone, or even some of El Dorado to rule and conquer. He wouldn't have it any other way. "But, y'know - I managed to grab a few trinkets here and there." Nate nodded to himself, silently rubbing his wedding ring.
That intrigued Sam, and as Nathan explained his own treasures that he had procured, he leaned back, puffing out more smoke. "I paid off my car, the house, my engagement ring -" Nate paused, eyes widening. "Engagement ring." He repeated, turning to Sam excitedly. "I'm married! I can't believe - Elena, from the stories?" His brother nodded slowly. "That's my wife! You gotta come meet her! Tonight, dinner, at my place. I can tell her all about you-"
His rambling was cut off short by Sam standing up from the bench wordlessly, taking his cigarette with him. "Nathan..." He began slowly, leaning up against the metal dock railings. "I'm in a lot of trouble, here." Sam explained, turning his head sideways to gaze at his brother through his peripheral vision. He took a deep breath in, not sure if he was ready to explain his situation.
Nathan looked at his brother with confusion written in his gaze. "What?" He asked, standing up to situate himself beside Sam. He knew that the fact that he had gotten out of a class-5 Panamanian Prison wasn't a coincidence, especially not after fifteen years. "What are you talking about?" Nate asked again, pausing in between his questions and leaning his forearm against the fence. "What kind of trouble?"
"Does the name Hector Alcazar ring a bell with you?" Sam asked.
Nate nodded. "Yeah, he's the drug lord." The older Drake brother made a 'mhm' noise against his lips as Nathan continued talking. "'Butcher of Panama', right?" He asked for confirmation. "Why?"
"It's a funny story." Sam dryly chuckled - it wasn't a funny story. "But - um -" He struggled to find the right words on how to explain it to his younger brother. It wasn't like it was a simple break-out story. "-For the last year, he was my cellmate." Nate's eyes widened at that statement, but Sam wasn't done. The older of the two kept his gaze on the river's horizon. "So - this is how I got out of prison..."
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DOING SIT-UPS in a prison cell wasn't the most comfortable activity - to say the absolute least. But, it was the only thing that kept Sam fit, and most importantly, occupied. It was one way to get his mind off of everything that had happened over the last nearly fifteen years. Even though his ass hurt like hell, and his shoulder blades protested against having his hands behind his head as he worked out, it worked.
Footsteps stopped in front of his cell door, and Sam sat up, hands resting against his knees as he looked at the dark, shadowy figure in the pitch black. He knew immediately that it was Hector, his 'beloved' cellmate. "What, you're not reading tonight?" The Drake poked, the sweat dripping from his hairline heating up his body temperature - even though it was the middle of the fall in Panama.
Alcázar didn't seem to think that his cellmate's jokes were funny, it was a rare occurrence that he even poked a smile. "Samuel, come here." Taking his instruction, Sam let out a small grunt as he stood up, letting his back make the satisfying 'pop' noise before stepping over to Hector. "Listen." Alcázar stated, making Sam go quiet. "Listen - the guards, they're singing." He pointed out, quite amused that they had taken up such an activity.
Sam, leaning his hand against the barred cell door, let out a sharp intake of breath, also finding it funny that the guards began to sing. "Eh - well, they're probably drunk." He stated truthfully, taking logic into the situation. The only thing that prison hadn't taken from him was his sense of sarcastic and satire humour. The only problem was that most of the other inmates didn't take kindly to his jokes. Luckily, Hector wasn't one of them.
"Perhaps." Alcázar nodded thoughtfully, his mouth opening again to speak. "But they're content." He nearly sneered the third word out, venom lacing his voice. "How can they be content with their small lives -?" He asked. "- Their miserable jobs?" He continued, looping one arm through one bar, and another through another bar. Alcázar was a cryptic man, his cellmate had to give him that.
"Well - I mean, they have wives to go home to." Sam shrugged, leaning his head towards Hector, still being careful not to aggravate him. The guards would only come if Sam was on the absolute brink of death. "What do we have?" He asked rhetorically, stepping back and sitting down on his cell bed. "Hmm? No offence, of course." He added - he didn't need Hector Alcázar on his ass.
The man himself soon answered that seemingly rhetoric question, still facing the cell door quietly. "We have ambition." He replied, making Sam let out a short and sarcastic 'oh' as he leant his hands over and against his knees. "And when we get out of here, that ambition will take us places these idiots cannot even imagine." Alcázar exclaimed passionately, turning his head slightly over towards Sam.
The ex-treasure hunter layed down on his small cot, resting his hand behind his head for extra support. "Yeah - well, amen to optimism." Sam stated, shutting his eyes lightly. It wasn't like he could get any nice, real, ten-hour sleeping sessions in with a bed made out of pure concrete blocks. Truth be told, even though it had been fifteen years, he hadn't gotten used to the life of prison. He hoped that one day, someone would come for him.
Ignoring Sam's seemingly sleeping state, Alcázar continued asking him questions. "What will you do when you get out, Samuel?" He thought for a moment. He would see Nate again, that was for sure. They'd have to catch up. He would want to see Zara - apologize for most likely traumatizing her for dying right in front of her and Nathan. God, he wanted to eat burgers again. Maybe have a nice beer and a proper cigarette.
He shook his head, he wouldn't get out, it had been too long. Any kind of hope for being bailed out had diminished from his mind long, long ago. "That's if I get outta here." He replied to Alcázar's question pessimistically, itching the back of his neck with his right hand. "I'm sure you can imagine." Sam stated, picking at a small chunk of food in his tooth with his tongue.
Hector nodded slowly. "I can." He spoke, looking towards his cellmate with the slightest hint of a grin on his face. "But I want to hear you say it."
Sam knew what he was talking about. Avery's treasure. He wanted to get it again - finish what he started - but he wanted to wait, and he knew that Alcázar didn't. Sam wanted to see Nathan and catch up with him, Victor - even though he hated him - and Zara as well, all before searching for Avery's treasure again. That being said, he knew what would push Hector's buttons, and what would help him escape.
"I will find the greatest pirate treasure of all time." Sam grinned, blinking his eyes open again as he spoke. He continued explaining the treasure, making sure to make it believable towards Alcázar. "Which I am sure you are sick of hearing about by now." He was an infamous drug lord, he had probably heard about it from fellow inmates, books, or even other dealers around the Spanish country of Panama.
"Oh, no." Hector chuckled lightly, shaking his head. "The tale of Henry Avery and his four hundred million in jewels and gold has become a sweet lullaby for me." He spoke, almost admiring the treasure itself. Sam had been obsessed with the treasure long ago, but his obsession with finding it had diminished over the years. Alcázar turned towards his cellmate again. "Do you really think you can find it?"
Immediately, Sam replied. He knew what Hector wanted to hear. And technically, it was the truth. If he had the resources, and a little help from his brother and Zara - the descendent of Henry Avery - herself, he would most definitely be able to pick up where the three - four, including Rafe - left off all those years ago. "Given the opportunity? Absolutely." Sam nodded truthfully.
Alcázar nodded thoughtfully and slowly. "Ambition - what is that Avery quote?" He asked.
Sam fought a smile. "'I am a man of fortune, and I must seek my fortune.'"
"Hm..." Hector slowly drew the small noise from his lips. "I like how he thinks."
The sound of rumbling from farther down the cell block made Sam shoot upright in his 'bed', his eyes full of confusion. His furrowed brows met the sweat that had procured from his workout session earlier, heating up his face alongside the adrenaline coursing through his veins. "What the hell was that?" He asked, expecting Alcázar to know. He was at the top of the inmate food chain.
As Sam stood up and walked over towards Hector, he replied. "The opportunity of a lifetime." And almost as soon as he said that, two people came walking down the cell block hallway with long-range guns in their hands. They wore dark, gray balaclavas - or masks - over their face and neck, protecting every inch of skin from being identifiable besides their eyes.
"Senior Alcázar." One of them spoke, addressing Hector. They took a key out of their pocket, fumbling with it on the cell door for a few moments before opening it. "Un gusto verlo." He continued. Sam knew Spanish quite well, and he could tell that the two men were helping Hector out of the prison. He had been in there for a while, just like Sam. What a lucky son of a bitch.
"Saquenme de aquí." Hector replied, simply saying 'get me out of here' in Spanish.
Sam let out a low 'whoa' sound as Alcázar took a small handgun out of one of the intruder's hands, reloading it and clicking the safety off. He was really escaping. God, the prison guards would most definitely take that chance to blame Sam for his escape. Being the cellmate of an infamous drug lord that was about to escape from prison was not the best situation Sam could be in at the moment.
Or maybe it was.
One of the guards motioned his gun over towards Sam, mumbling something at Alcázar in spanish. Hector gazed at him for a moment, his eyebrows furrowing and his mouth turning into a frown beneath his thinning beard. "Samuel..." He stated, not an ounce of humour lingering in his voice. "Are you ready to seek your fortune?" Hector asked him. A one in a lifetime opportunity.
He stood there for a moment, weighing his options. On one hand, he was escaping a class-5 prison alongside one of the most infamous drug lords of the decade. He could easily kill him when they got outside of the border of the prison-owned area. Sam knew the risks of going with another inmate, especially when he was someone who had deserved to be in there in the first place. It couldn't end well, going alongside him to escape..
But, he had been there for nearly fifteen years. He longed to apologize to Nate, to catch up with him, to see him again. He wanted to try and mend his relationship with Victor Sullivan again, since he knew how much he meant to Nate as a kid. He wanted to see what Zara had dug up about Avery over the last decade and a half. He just wanted to live his life again, even if it was under circumstances that Hector Alcázar put in.
Coming to a quick decision, Sam nodded. "Yeah."
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