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Chapter Text

"If I have seen further than others, it is by standing on the shoulders of giants."

-Sir Isaac Newton

The punch connected with a solid thwack, the report of bare knuckles colliding with rigid cheekbone with the intent to leave a mark. Nate recoiled, rolling with the punch as much as possible without losing his stance on the narrow I-beam on which he and his opponent were currently perched, toward the top of the industrial jungle gym of rust-streaked tin, pipes, and concrete. While his aggressor paused, also striving to maintain balance, Nate reached up and gingerly touched his eye. Yep. That was gonna leave a shiner.

"Well," he panted, his voice a little higher than intended, "how 'bout we call this one a tie, huh? If you're happy, I'm happy."

The burly thug launched at him again, driving his fist toward Nate's midsection. Nate caught the blow with both hands, absorbing most of the force that would have otherwise gone directly into his stomach. Holding the man at arm's length, Nate brought his knee up sharply, catching him under the chin while releasing his grip on the man's hands. The thug staggered back, arms flailing and a look of panic on his face. The panic was well justified, as any fall from here would mean going directly into a hopper which fed a set of grinding wheels that clanged noisily twelve feet below them. Regaining his composure, the man smirked at him. "Let's finish this, Drake."

Nate gave a wobbly smile. "Eh- let's not and say we did." As the thug rushed him, Nate jumped off the I-beam and grabbed a pipe, which shook and rattled under his weight. The thug lunged at empty airspace, caught by surprise, and lost his balance on the metal beam, falling off with a cry. Nate was thankful he was unable to witness the goon falling, as his back was turned while he hung from the pipe, but he still squeezed his eyes shut and grimaced at the man's scream and the sound of him bouncing off the side of the hopper. A moment later, the grinding wheels made a strange sound, and Nate tried not to picture what was happening. Shaking his head grimly to clear his thoughts, Nate began swinging his legs, building up momentum. "Hup!" letting go at the apex of his swing, he launched out and grabbed another pipe which ran vertically up the side of the nearest building- or shack, whichever seemed the more appropriate title. His breath exploded as he crashed into the side of the building and his feet slipped down the tin siding until he was dangling like a rag doll above the rushing river below. Grunting, Nate worked his feet back up the wall and pushed himself out from the building, then began climbing hand over hand up the pipe.

"How...do I ever...get myself INTO these...situations?" he muttered through gritted teeth. On the heels of that sentiment came the dreaded next thought. He knew how he got here. It was him trying to be a hero, sticking his neck out like usual. Heh, he was bound to get it chopped off one of these times, he just never knew it would come at such a great price.

I was only trying to help, just trying to keep people safe, he mentally groaned. Why do I always have to pay for trying to help?

But there was no turning back now. No, he had crossed that threshold a while ago. His friends needed him- heck, the WORLD needed him. As Chloe would say right now, he always found himself trying to "play the bloody hero." Pulling himself up over the edge of the rusty tin roof, Nate paused to catch his breath. "Alright. Which way from here?" he asked himself. As he stood, hands on his hips, and scanned the perimeter of the industrial compound for any signs of Sully and the gang, he felt the hair on the back of his neck begin to stand, and he suddenly felt like there was some threat coming up behind him. Frowning, he tried to shake the feeling off, but his better judgement told him to trust his instincts. Finally he gave in and turned. "Oh, crap-"

The hook of a crane slammed into him with great force, knocking him off the roof. Nate plummeted and hit the water less than gracefully, the impact of the surface tension compounding the effects of the blow he had just received. The swirling water that churned all around him seemed darker than he would have expected, but maybe it was just that he had gotten a concussion and his vision was blacking out. Yeah, that was probably it, given how numb the rest of his body felt. Nate stretched out arms made of lead as he tried to paddle to the surface, but in the punch-drunken fog that had settled over him, he couldn't tell which way was up. The one thing he did know was that there was an increasing roar all around him, which he knew exactly what to attribute to. Shit. The waterfall. There was a waterfall. With even more desperation he tried to claw his way to the surface, but for all he could tell he might have been doing underwater somersaults, what with the rapids and all. His heart was beating in his ears, and, against the brain fog and with ever increasing panic, he fought what he knew was a losing battle against the current. As the roar became deafening, his final coherent thoughts went to Elena. God, if only it didn't have to end like-

And then his thoughts were swallowed by the thunder of crashing water as he reached the precipice of the falls and was swept over the edge.

Elena watched as the sun crept up over the horizon, casting pools of golden light across Mount Parnassus and the ruins of Delphi. Bathed in the warm glow, the three pillars of the Tholos stood like sentinels, ever keeping their silent vigil over the sacred precinct. Elena smiled, relishing the enchanting view before her. It was one of the few things she considered to be a genuine perk about her husband's line of work.

She glanced over at Nathan, prowling around through the stacks of cut stones like a lion seeking its quarry. His finely tuned eyes swept over every square inch as he methodically worked his way down the row of stones and away from her. Dressed simply in a long-sleeve t-shirt, a backpack, and jeans (Elena had managed to convince him to leave his shoulder holsters behind), he almost could have passed for one of the thousands of tourists that were sure to sweep through the site of the fabled Oracle later that day.

With a sigh, she lifted the disposable cup to her lips and took a sip of her latte. It had been obtained from a small coffee shop that they found- blessedly open- in the hours before dawn in the town of the ruin's namesake on their way in and was helping to ward off the drowsiness that lingered from the early morning. She savored the taste as it slid down her throat and leaned back, resting her other hand on the rock she was sitting on. Turning to her husband, she called out softly. "Gorgeous."

Nate looked up at her with a wry smile. "Yes, beautiful?"

She giggled. "Not you. The sunrise."

Feigning a put-off look, Nate turned to face the way she was looking. "Eh. I've seen better," he shrugged.

Rolling her eyes, Elena responded dryly, "I'm sure you have. But, it's some small consolation for having to wake up at such an ungodly hour."

"Well, gotta beat the tourists, ya know?" Nate replied cheerfully. "Can't be out here trying to poke around while everyone and their brother is ogling the place." He continued his slow march down the row.

She let a pause hang for a moment as she watched the ever changing colors of the dawn, then called back, "So what is this thing supposed to be again?"

"The key to Atlantis!" Nate announced with an air of ceremony despite not looking up. "You know, arguably the most legendary lost city, rumored to have contained massive amounts of wealth, all ripe for the taking."

"... assuming we find the door for said key," Elena finished for him, shooting him a meaningful look even though he was far too engrossed in his work to notice. "A key's not much good without a door."

"And, a door's not much good without a key," Nate rebutted, climbing over one of the stacks of rocks to the next row up. "Baby steps, 'Lena, baby steps." He stopped suddenly, resting his hand against a half-fallen fluted column, and then dropped to his knees on the scrubby grass. "This is it," he said, reaching out to touch one of the stones in the low wall in front of him.

Her interest finally piqued, Elena stood and hurried over to him. "How do you know?" she asked, kneeling down beside him.

Nate slung his backpack down from his shoulder and unzipped the main pocket. "See this?" He pointed to a small indentation on the stone's smooth face. Elena had to lean in and look closely, but eventually realized that the indentation was actually a carved design that resembled a star, though it was quite eroded and indistinct from spending ages in the elements. She nodded. Reaching into his backpack, Nate pulled out his journal and a small pickaxe. Laying the tool on the ground, he flipped the little leather book open to a page he had marked. "It's the Argead star," he said, pointing to a sketch he had done that resembled the image on the rock. "A solar symbol used in ancient Greece. My contact pointed to this symbol marking the hiding spot of the key."

"Amazing," Elena murmured, setting her coffee on the ground and resting her hands on her blue jean clad knees.

Nate slipped the journal into his pocket and began to chip at the mortar surrounding the stone with the pickaxe, while Elena let out a steady string of horrified but stifled grunts while covering her mouth with her hand. After a minute or so of listening to her mild protests, Nate turned and gave her a miffed look. "Can I help you?" he asked.

"It's just-" Elena began, gesturing to the pick in his hand. "I mean- you do know this is a UNESCO world heritage site, right?"

Nate looked at her like she had just sprouted another head, then gave the smallest of shrugs. "What's more world heritage than Atlantis?" he asked blandly. "Besides," he continued, going back to his work, "we'll slip this rock back in when we're done, and no one will ever be the wiser. It'll be just like all the other crumbling stone walls around." As if to prove his point, the rest of the mortar around the stone chipped out with apparent ease, falling in brittle chunks on the dew-soaked ground. Soon the stone was loose, and Nate grasped the edges of it and began to pull it back gingerly, as if opening an ancient tomb. Elena found herself holding her breath as the rock slipped out with a soft grating sound and was hefted aside by Nate.

Behind it was a small, square niche, about three feet tall by two feet wide, and inside stood a statue of a bearded man hunched over and holding a curious looking spherical device on his broad shoulders. Nate and Elena let out a simultaneous gasp, both of them staring in silence at the figure inside. "Atlas," Elena half stated, half questioned.

"That's right," Nate said, his smile returning.

"But why?" Elena asked. "I thought Atlantis was Poseidon's gig."

"It is. Was." Nate said, stooping and poking his head into the hole. "However, according to Plato, the king of Atlantis was named Atlas, though that Atlas was the son of Poseidon, or in some accounts Uranus. But the mythological titan certainly has ties to the island; the name itself means 'Atlas' island'. Even if he wasn't the king of Atlantis, it seems the king was named after him for some good reason."

"Hmmm," Elena hummed. The deliciously still, cool morning was causing her to wax romantic in spite of herself. "So Atlas may have carried a legend as well as the world," she said with a faraway smile.

Nate, now with his entire body scrunched up inside the niche, gave a muffled reply. "Well, technically, it wasn't the world."

"Hmm?"

"Yeah," Nate continued. "Ayn Rand aside, his job was actually to hold up the sky. He was condemned to it after participating in the uprising of the titans. Isn't that right little buddy?" His last words were addressed to the statue itself, in front of which he now crouched, hands poised to reach out and take the device from his shoulders. "You won't be missing this, I assume." He reached out and took hold of the device, which consisted of two thick bronze rings intersecting at right angles to each other, one inside the other, with a few, more delicate, meridian lines crossing them here and there. He carefully lifted it off the hapless titan's shoulders, marveling at it as its weight came into his hands. Before crawling back out of the niche, he turned his eyes to the statue of Atlas, taking in the titan's strained expression, his wide eyes and slightly parted lips, expressing a silent agony over carrying out his eternal punishment. Nate frowned and turned away.

"That doesn't look much like a key," Elena said after he crawled out and they both stood up. "Looks more like a spherical astrolabe."

"I think it is," Nate said, turning it over as he examined it. He shrugged and placed it carefully in the backpack.

Elena nodded slowly. "Riiight... So how's it supposed to work as a key?"

Nate sucked in a sharp breath of air as he slung a backpack strap over one shoulder, the cogs of his mind quickly formulating an answer, as he was never one to be beat at his own game. Arriving at what he felt was a sufficiently witty comeback, he smiled slyly and said, "I guess we'll know when we find the door. A key's not much good without a door."

Elena did not miss the reversal of her own words back on her, and she shook her head with a scoff. "That's not really funny," she said, despite the small smile on her face.

"It's kinda funny," Nate said, flopping his arm around her shoulders and steering her towards the rental car parked nearby. As the two meandered along, Nate asked, "What do you say we celebrate back at the hotel?"

Elena turned and fixed her hazel eyes on Nate's blue ones. "I'll drink to that," she said with a smile.

Chapter Text

Nate carefully inserted the key card into the slot on their hotel room door and waited until the little light on the handle turned green and he heard the click! of the electronic deadbolt unlocking. Opening the door with his right hand, he stepped inside, while his left hand remained firmly clasped on both of Elena's hands. She was currently hanging from his shoulders, her legs wrapped around his waist, similar to how a small child might ride on their parent's back, and giggling like a small child as well. Nate swaggered into the room and then slung her around, dumping her playfully onto the couch. With a huge smile plastered on his face, he leaned forward, pinning her with one arm on either side of her, until his face was mere inches from hers, as she continued to shake with silent laughter.

"Well," he began in a mock authoritative voice, "did the tired little girl make it home okay? Too tired to even walk in from the parking lot?"

"Stop it!" Elena said through her laughter.

"Do you need another three cups of coffee delivered to you so you can make it off the couch, there? I know just the guy to do it for you." Nate stood and walked over to the kitchen, dropping his backpack in the recliner on the way, and flipped the switch on the coffee maker. The little machine began to gurgle and hum as he turned to the fridge and opened the door. "I know one thing," he said, reverting to his normal tone of voice, "this is one hungry treasure hunter." He dug in the fridge while muttering to himself, "Will the gallant Nathan Drake prepare pancakes for his lovely wife Elena Fisher? Eggs Benedict?"

"Oh, please." Elena rolled her eyes, still laying on the couch where he left her.

"Or even more likely," Nate continued his third person monologue, "will he just make cereal and milk?" He emerged with a half gallon carton bearing witness to his decision. "I think, today, I'll stick to my strengths."

"Probably better that way," Elena smiled as he pulled out a box of raisin bran. "Don't need the smoke alarm going off right now."

"Hey now, that was one time, and it wasn't that big a deal," Nate said as he began to cross the room with two full bowls of cereal.

"The fire department got called, Nate," Elena continued to chaff him.

"...because the hotel fire alarms couldn't be shut off any other way." Nate had reached the table and had his back to her. "Dumb design, really." He began to carefully set the bowls down until they were about an inch off the table when he suddenly felt fingers jabbing him in the ribs. He yelped and dropped the bowls, sloshing some of their contents onto the table as Elena began to tickle him. "Hey! Not fair!" he whined. But her attacks only became more vicious, and soon she had forced Nate to the floor in a fit of uncontrollable laughter, the two of them rolling on the ground as Nate tried to extricate himself. Eventually he managed to start tickling her back and even managed to roll away from her, only for her to pounce on him again. As he once more dissolved into a fit of breathless giggling, Elena suddenly stopped and kissed him passionately, then pinned him to the carpet as their lips met with burning desire. Nate's defense slowly lowered as he abandoned himself more and more to the sultry moans coming from his wife, and he began to return the kiss with equal fervor. His hands slowly moved downward to grab the hem of her shirt. Grasping the thin fabric, he tugged on it, inching it upward as Elena wriggled in approval.

Just as her belly became exposed, the silence in the hotel room was shattered, the serenity of the moment ripped in half by an awful, grating noise. It was Nate's phone. Elena uttered an agonized groan. She opened her mouth to say something, but Nate, pushing himself up with one hand, pressed the other one downward in the air, palm flat, in a pacifying gesture. The obnoxious ringtone continued to blare as he walked to the recliner and unzipped the front pocket on his backpack. He pulled out his phone and flipped it open.

"Y'ello."

"Nate! Hey kid, how's it going?" Sully's gruff voice greeted him.

"Uh, great..." Nate said unconvincingly. "...yeah, how's it going, Sully?" Nate ignored Elena's eye roll as his old friend began talking again.

"'nother day in paradise," Sully drawled through the phone. "How's Greece? I hear it's lovely this time of year."

Nate shrugged. "Yeah, it's great. I dunno..."

"Hey, Nate, I know you're kinda halfway on vacation and all- you know, you and Elena-"

"Right," Nate interrupted more curtly then he intended.

Picking up on his tone, Sully paused. "Did I...interrupt something?"

Nate sighed, scrubbing a hand over his face and up through his hair. "You know what? Don't worry about it. What's up?"

"I'm gonna pretend like that's not awkward," Sully muttered under his breath before continuing. "I got a job, Nate. You're gonna love it. It's nearby you-"

"Nope," Nate cut him off. "No. Uh-uh. Not gonna do it." He answered his wife's quizzical look by silently holding up a finger and then stepping out onto the balcony for some privacy. Gently shutting the glass sliding door behind him, he continued more quietly, "I can't, Sully. I promised her this would be a quiet, scenic trip to Greece. We'd get the artifact, go visit Athens, and go home."

"Nate-"

"-no business deals, and NO guns," Nate forged ahead, disregarding Sully's protests.

"I understand all that, kid, but there's virtually no chance of this job going sour," Sully insisted.

"Ugh, you- you said it!" Nate exclaimed, pinching the bridge of his nose.

"What?" Sully asked, confused.

Nate leaned on the wrought iron railing of the balcony. "It's just that any time we say that there's no chance a job will go bad, someone inevitably comes at us with a machine gun, and it all goes south from there."

"Point taken," Sully said patiently, "but listen. All we're doing is lifting an old journal from the house of some old kook in Crete. Guy's probably too ancient to even lift a gun if he wanted to, and I promise he doesn't own an army. Customer's willing to pay twenty thousand for it Nate," Sully added with emphasis. "In case you need help with your math facts that'd be ten grand for you." His voice became softer as he went on, "Nate, I know you've been trying to get a decent house for you and the girl. Hell, I'd just give you half the money regardless, but I know you're a stubborn mule who won't take anything unless you feel like you've earned it. So just do yourself a favor and come meet me in Athens when I fly in tomorrow, okay? You don't have to agree to anything right now, we'll just meet up and I'll explain the details."

Nate waited, then took a deep breath and exhaled slowly. "Sure, Sully. I'll be there." He hung up the phone but stayed leaning on the rail, gazing absently out at the green rolling hills crowded with white stucco houses. After a minute he got up and walked inside.

"Elena?" he called into the empty living room. Silence answered him. "Elena?" He wandered through the kitchen and towards the bedroom of the suite. Opening the door quietly, he leaned in and looked around the darkened room. Funny, he thought, I don't remember drawing the shades. He stepped inside, flicking the light on as he did.

Suddenly, a hand grabbed his shirt, and he let out a startled cry. Before he could even react Elena had pulled him down onto the bed with her in a tangle of sheets and clothes.

The next day, at about one o'clock p.m., Nate was sitting with Sully at an outdoor table belonging to a quaint little cafe in Athens. Elena had opted to stay behind to work on her application for a new position she was hoping to snag under the condition that Nate wouldn't go on any swash-buckling adventures without letting her know first, so he came by himself. The stream of people flooding by their little table was constant, as was the loud jabber of both the pedestrians and the other patrons of the cafe, making it an ideal place for a "hidden in plain sight" kind of semi-private talk about the new job. Nate leaned forward on the table, his hands clasped around his mug of coffee.

"Alright, Sully. Spill."

"Ahh, a little antsy, are we?" Sully asked playfully as he added some creamer to his joe and stirred it in. "Your little trip with Elena has you in a 'get to the climax' kind of mood, Nate. Especially yesterday."

Nate rolled his eyes but couldn't quite resist a smile. "No, I'm just afraid if we sit here too long, you might spend your entire share of the money right here before you even get it."

"Who knew a little hole-in-the-wall place would be so expensive?" Sully mumbled in agreement. "Can't imagine how they justify it."

Just then their waitress arrived with a plate of kabobs for each of them. Sully looked up at the attractive young woman as she set his plate down in front of him, his eyes settling on the neckline of her shirt as she bent over slightly to place the dish. As the girl straightened up to leave, Sully's eyes flicked up to hers, and she smiled coyly at him as the two men nodded their thanks. The waitress walked away with a bit of an exaggerated sway of her hips, and Sully muttered to himself, "Then again, maybe that's how." He yelped as Nate bounced an olive off his ear, the little projectile rolling away onto the sidewalk to be squished under foot as Sully looked at his protege with wounded pride.

"D'ya think we could try focusing just a little?" Nate jabbed.

"Right, right. The job." Sully picked up one of his skewers and slid a piece of lamb off the end using his teeth, then chewed the tender meat thoughtfully. "Alright, so you know Isaac Newton? Scientist who developed the law of gravity when an apple cracked his cranium?"

"Sully," Nate sighed, resisting the urge to point out that he was the historian in this partnership. "I know who Isaac Newton is. Also, that apple story is a little apocryphal."

"Hey, just throw me a bone, kid," Sully said. "I'm relishing being the guy to explain the historical basis of one of our little escapades for once."

Leaning back in his chair, Nate smiled a crooked smile and waved his hand for the old man to continue.

"Anyway, guy's famous for all his scientific theories and all that, but his real interest-"

"Alchemy."

"-was alchemy." Sully paused to glare at Nate for his unwarranted interruption of his monologue.

Nate smirked and held up his hands. "Sorry."

Sully maintained a stink eye directed at Nate while pointedly grabbing a skewered hunk of cheese with his teeth and sliding it off into his mouth. He chewed and swallowed, then continued. "Anyway, some of Newton's works on alchemy are published, but a good deal of them have never been found and identified. My client believes that one of his alchemy journals is in the possession of a Greek collector named Milos Adamos." He tossed a manila file folder onto the table between them. "These are pictures of Milos' villa on Crete."

Nate picked up the file with a raise of his eyebrows and glanced between it and his mentor. Noticing Nate's quizzical and slightly bemused look, Sully turned his hands up. "What?"

"A file?" Nate asked as he opened the folder and began to flip through its contents. "You're really doin' it up, Sullivan."

"I try." Sully twisted at an angle in his chair, draping one arm over the back, then took a cigar from the pocket of his green Havana shirt and placed it between his lips. Opening his Zippo with a soft click, he cupped his hand around the flame and held it to the end of the cigar.

Nate pored over the photos of Adamos' villa: the gravel road leading up to it, the garden off to the right of the main entrance, the trellis over the courtyard out back, the large, free-form pool...

"See that window there?" Sully's voice broke Nate out of his thoughts. "That's the south approach. Based on those architectural drawings I found and put at the back, I think that window that all those vines are growing up around leads to the study. I'm thinking that's our most direct route in and out of the place. The journal's likely to be just inside."

Nate flipped to the drawings in question. His mind running through every possible outcome he could think of, he drew a sharp breath and leaned back. "Looks solid," he admitted. "You're sure this collector guy isn't dangerous?"

Sully puffed out a cloud of smoke. "He's an eighty-something year old historian who lives by himself with his grounds keeper. No trouble there."

"And your client?" Nate pressed.

"A French scientist by the name of Mathis Garnier. Medium stature, slight build, and more likely to give us a manicure than a bullet to the brain."

Nate remained skeptical. "Really? We've been double-crossed by some real pencil-pushers..."

"Nate," Sully said, "I promise. This guy's got as much potential to double-cross as a North Dakota highway."

Nate looked confused. "What- does that mean?"

Sully raised one eyebrow. "You ever been to North Dakota?"

"No."

"Try it sometime. You'll find out." The old man leaned in. "Listen, kid. I'm not trying to pressure you into this. Really. But I know you need the money. It might make your wife's year." He sat back and dragged on his cigar. Nate chewed a piece of lamb meat, his mind still swirling with thoughts, not the least of which was that it might also make his wife's year if he was actually there at home with her for a little bit. But it should be a quick job, and it really would be an incredible payment towards a decent house...

Nate turned his palms up. "Ah, what the heck? I'm in."

Sully grinned broadly. "Attaboy!" He reached across the table and clapped a hand on Nate's shoulder. "I knew you'd warm up to the idea." After throwing back the rest of his cup of coffee, he began to explain the logistics of the mission and their trip to Crete, while Nate listened with growing enthusiasm as he finally allowed his mind to settle into the task at hand.

Chapter Text

Flashback-

...for better or worse, in sickness and in health, till death do us part.

Nathan felt- heck, nearly tasted- each of those words as he spoke them sincerely, almost solemnly, to his wife to be. As his lively blue eyes met Elena's passionate hazel eyes, he wondered, in a moment of surprising morbidity for his wedding day, how many people besides him considered those words to be more than a mere rhetorical flourish. For him, death was a continual shadow that hounded his every move.

The storm-cloud like thought was gone in an instant, though, driven away by the winds of passionate devotion and evaporated in the intense sunlight of the freshly forged couple's love for each other. Elena was duly kissed and whisked across the threshold of their (admittedly shabby) apartment in the suburbs in Nate's strong arms. The next few months were all a glorious summer haze for Nate and Elena, and especially for Nate. He was, as Sully eloquently put it, as "giddy as an ex-nun on her first date". He and Nate agreed to cut back the scale of the jobs they were willing to accept while Nate got settled in, and the break was a welcome change of pace for some time. He spent many an evening laughing and relaxing with Elena, snuggled in the corner of their couch watching a late night tv show or visiting a nearby beach.

Eventually, though, the right customer came in, put the right amount of money on the table, and soon they were pushing the envelope back into the high-stakes kind of territory. It was shortly after this that Elena popped the question to Nate over dinner one night.

"So..." she began cautiously. "Do you think it might be time to get a- you know- normal job?"

Nate regarded her curiously. "Normal?" He spoke the word tentatively, as if trying it out for the first time.

"Yeah, you know." She looked at him encouragingly, but was met with an expression that made it clear he didn't know. "No treasure hunting. Or at least no getting shot at."

Nate opened his mouth, but at first no words came out. "Elena, honey," he spoke entreatingly, "It's all I've ever known."

"But there has to be something you could do that would be just a little safer!" Elena protested.

"Like what?" Nate asked, only somewhat challengingly. "My skill set's not exactly geared toward office work or anything."

"Well how about..." Elena's shoulders lifted, "I don't know, rock climbing guide?"

Nate raised an eyebrow. "Is that even a real job?"

"Underwater salvage?"

"Sounds boring as heck."

"A real archaeologist?" Elena said in exasperation. "Like the legal, non-getting-shot-at kind?"

Nate exhaled and frowned. "Elena, I do what I do because someone has to do it! Just think of all the things we've seen and discovered. Those 'legal' archaeologists are so bound up in beauracracy that they never would have gotten where we have in three lifetimes! Not to mention the psychopaths we've thwarted from taking over the world." Nate looked at her pleadingly. "'Lena, please. If I don't do this, so many things will remain lost- forever- and so many people could get hurt."

Elena sighed as she looked deeply into his eyes. "Why do you have to be so damn altruistic about it?" she said softly. "Does all that responsibility have to fall on you? You don't always have to-"

"Play the bloody hero?" he interjected.

Elena managed a faint smile. "Yeah."

Nate polished off his dinner and stood up, slugging her lightly on the shoulder. "C'mon," he chuckled. "You know you love me for it." Turning, he began to walk toward the kitchenette.

"Yeah, I do," she said begrudgingly. "It's just-"

Nate paused and looked back. "Just what?"

She hesitated. "Never mind," she said, smiling warmly at him. He grinned back and continued to the sink. What he didn't see as he turned away was a slight glistening in Elena's eyes. She blinked rapidly and wiped them with the back of her hand, then followed after her husband.

-End flashback

Gazing out the darkened window of the rental car Sully had obtained for them, Nate lifted his eyes from the country dirt roads and open fields of rural Crete to the glittering splendor of the night sky above. Amidst a heavy dusting of stars, a sliver of a crescent moon hung in the sky near the constellation of Pisces, suspended like the curve of a shimmering, galactic fish hook, luring the waterborne celestial creatures in for the catch. Or maybe it's there to hang my sorry ass off of should this whole thing go belly-up, Nate mused. In his journal, he drew a sketch of a furious Elena storming off while he dangled by his belt loop from the point of a huge, gleaming fish hook and two large fish swam away scott-free.

Soon Sully slowed the car down and turned gently off the road and into the field. He pulled up behind a stand of trees, turned the lights off, and killed the engine. They would walk from here. In silence, the treasure hunting duo climbed out of the car. As the doors shut with a soft thud, Sully rumbled quietly, "Ya ready for this, kid?"

Nate turned to face his long time friend who was dressed for the job in a old black turtleneck and dark grey chinos, and he realized he had never seen Sully wear the turtleneck before. Most likely the item had been dug out of some dusty box in the attic just for the occasion. Nate himself was similarly dressed in a black quarter-zip sweatshirt and black jeans, and both of them wore black gloves.

"Yeah," Nate said in a low voice. "I'm ready."

For several minutes they walked down the side of the road in a silence that was mutually understood to be for the sake of stealth, and the only noise that could be heard was the chirping of insects and the quiet rustling of grass underfoot. The night was cool and damp, and supremely dark despite the generous smattering of stars overhead. Perfect for thinking, which Nate was taking full advantage of as he ran scenarios through his mind about what might happen if someone were to come down the road right then and see them. Eventually, though, the great Sully of the Silver Tongue could bear the silence no longer, and he muttered casually, "Kinda reminds me of the road to Aunt Fran's."

Out of idleness, more than genuine interest, Nate searched his memory banks for a Victor Sullivan story that matched the name. "Aunt Fran... Is she the aunt who showed up sloshed to that funeral and almost got the cops called?"

"Nah," Sully said. "Aunt Fran's the aunt who was dead at the funeral."

In the distance a frog croaked. "Oh," Nate said simply, "right."

A minute later they were at the iron gates that stood at the beginning of the quarter-mile long paved drive up to the villa. Ornately fashioned with with twisting metal vines snaking their way upwards to the spear-like points along the gates' curved top, they hinged off of large stone pillars on either side and cut an striking first impression of the property. Nate made quick work of scaling the iron bars and jumped down on the other side, his feet crunching on stray gravel from the road. Sully was close behind, and the two slinked away from the pavement to approach the villa more stealthily through an unmowed field. Doubled over in a half-crouch, they dashed toward the east side of the house, where the pool was, the long, damp grass swishing past their legs. There were no lights on in the villa except for a lamp standing in the middle of the rotary in front of the main entrance and another standing alongside a path that ran between the main house and a large outbuilding. Nate noticed the field of light cast by both swayed a little, and guessed they were probably bona-fide gas lights. He also noted a line of trees behind the outbuilding, and filed it away as possible cover for an emergency getaway. As they neared the pool, a dog barked somewhere, it's voice muffled either by virtue of distance or of being inside the house, they couldn't quite tell which.

Sully glanced at Nate. "That was no poodle," he said. "Let's hope we don't run into it."

"Eh," Nate said, feeling the outline of his concealed weapon. "I'm not too worried. If it comes for us, it's definitely gonna chase you, what with the lingering cigar smell. Doesn't take a bloodhound to follow the scent of those nasty things."

"Har, har," Sully chuckled insincerely.

The faint light of the gas lamps played on the water as they passed by the pool, it's surface a collage of shadows and rippling golden splotches. Silent as cats, the two men rounded the corner of the stucco-clad house and immediately pulled up short. Between them and the window they planned to enter through was a courtyard that they had not seen in any of the pictures Sully had procured. The round, flagstone-paved area was a good twenty feet across, and was home to a collection of statues of various Greek gods spaced around the circumference: Zeus, austere and imposing, scowled while a hulking and virile Heracles brandished a club in one hand and a lion's pelt in the other. Artemis clutched a bow in her strong and graceful arms, while fleet-footed Hermes smirked impishly. The one that most held Nate's attention, however, was the figure at the center of the courtyard. Stooped over, shoulders squared to carry the large sphere that sat upon them, Atlas gazed at him with the same mournful resignation etched on his stony features that Nate had seen in Delphi. He felt the hair on the back of his neck prickle as he stared back at the titan, an eerie feeling of deja-vu washing over him. "Amazing," he murmured.

"I'll say," Sully agreed.

Nate's face scrunched into a questioning look. Sullivan's swift and hearty concurrence struck him a little odd- the man was hardly an art aficionado, unless he stood to make money from it. He turned to see Sully admiring a strikingly formed nude sculpture of Aphrodite and he backhanded him in the chest. "It's just a hunk of marble, Sullivan."

Looking a little put-off, Sully retorted, "Yeah? Tell it to that bearded guy you were ogling."

"I was NOT ogling."

"Okay, staring at..."

They arrived at the window and, after double-checking that they were at the right one, Nate quickly jimmied it open with his pocket knife, then the two of them slipped noiselessly inside like shadows in the night. As Nate vaulted the window sill to land softly inside the room his already acute senses focused to an even greater degree of razor-like sharpness, his eyes flicking back and forth to spy out threats, his ears perked to hear the tiniest sounds, his nose registering the scent of leather, wood polish, and vanilla-flavored tobacco. Satisfied at the lack of any immediate danger, Nate stood and turned on his pocket flashlight. He moved the beam of red light around the study, landing first on the generously sized oak desk and high-backed leather chair, then the globe sitting atop a round end table in the corner of the room. Next he played it across the rows of books that lined the walls in elegant walnut cases, and finally brought it to rest on a small safe that was built in to the wall in the middle of one of the shelves.

"That looks promising," Sully commented. Clicking on his own flashlight, he walked over to it and began to fiddle with the door, muttering to himself, "There's gotta be a way to crack this damn thing open..."

As Sully spun the combination dial this way and that, Nate grew restless and turned his light back to the desk. There was an empty coffee mug sitting on the corner and a few ink pens and a magnifying glass scattered across the surface, but it was by no means disorderly. The focus of the good doctor Adamos' last study session seemed to be a stack of papers that sat on the edge of the desk in front of the chair, with a small leather bound book on the top of the stack. The book was not unlike Nate's own journal.

Nate cocked an eyebrow. Could it be? Could it possibly be so simple? He ambled up to the desk and picked up the little book, opening it to the middle. Numbers and symbols and equations teemed over the page, broken up here and there by legible English in a floral but hastily scrawled script. His pulse quickened as he began to flip through the journal towards the front cover, speed scanning several pages as he went. The rest of the book was more solidly understandable sentences, with an occasional sketch or diagram. The words "alchymist" and "chymistry" stood out to him in several places. Arriving at the inside cover, he received his final confirmation in the form of a familiar name signed on the front page.

"Oh, for the luvva-" Sully muttered angrily as he gave up trying to guess combos and just jerked on the handle a couple times.

"Hey, Sully!" Nate called softly. "I don't think you need to bother." He held up the leather journal as his friend turned around.

Sully's eyes went wide as saucers and then his lips turned up into a sly grin. "No shit?" he said with wonder.

"I've got an autograph to prove it," Nate grinned. "

"Well," Sully said, taking the book and thumbing through a few pages. "Lady Luck rides with us. For once."

Nate chuckled. "Let's not count our chickens yet." Turning to the stack of papers that had been beneath the journal, he skimmed the top one and then lifted the corner to read the one below. It seemed to be Milos' notes. Lots of scribbled Greek and maps and phone numbers. He lifted the corner on the next sheet and his eyes went wide. With a sharp jerk he pulled the sheet from the middle of the stack and held it with both hands, staring at the hand drawn image of an astrolabe very much like the one he had just found in Delphi. His eyes scanned the pencil lines as well as the several notes scrawled on the side. It HAD to be it!

The sharp clack of canine claws on hard wood floor snapped Nate out of his thoughts. They could hear a dog walking outside the study, coming closer, and along with it there was the sound of a voice; someone was talking in a low tone as they led the animal through the house. "Time to scram," Sully said quietly.

Nate quickly put the paper back down on the desk and they both jumped out the open window and started running as quickly and quietly as they could manage. "Head for the building!" Nate hissed. "We'll follow the tree line out to the road!"

"You got it, kid," Sully rumbled back.

They bolted toward the outbuilding, crossing into the dangerously expository pool of light cast by the gas lamp along the way. Nate's heart pounded wildly. If they could just make it through this one vulnerable spot in the open, they'd be as good as gone once they got to the trees. Their feet crunched on gravel as they shot across the narrow path, the sound seeming like an air horn in the quietness of the night. Almost there, Nate thought to himself, piling on a little extra steam as he neared the edge of the field of light.

Suddenly a huge dog leaped out in front of them, its heavy body hitting the ground and sliding in the wet grass. Teeth bared and a low growl emanating from its throat, it cut them off just before they would have plunged back into the pitch darkness. Nate and Sully cautiously backed away from it, never taking their eyes off the menacing beast.

"Hey, little pup," Nate cooed nervously, "do you do tricks?"

"How do you say 'roll over' in Greek?" Sully muttered.

The sound of a shotgun being pumped behind them made them both freeze in their tracks. "Ah, crap," Nate said as they both slowly raised their hands.

"I would suggest that neither one of you move," spoke a man in a heavily accented voice, "or I will blow your-"

"Let it be, Atticus," interrupted another voice, obviously belonging to an older man. The man- probably Milos- then addressed Nate and Sully, "My mysterious friends! To what do I owe this visit?"

What do I say to that? Nathan wondered. Fortunately Atticus was feeling helpful that night and volunteered an answer. "Hand over the journal," the shotgun-wielding man growled.

Milos shushed him, then spoke in his calm and gentle manner, "Please, turn around. Both of you. I wish to see my guests."

The two thieves exchanged a glance, then slowly turned, keeping their hands in the air as they did, until they were looking at the two occupants of the villa, both of which were clearly fresh out of bed. Staring down the barrel of the shotgun, index finger bouncing restlessly on the trigger, was the man called Atticus. With a mop of jet black hair, tousled from sleep, a craggy face, and a brown leather jacket thrown over flannel pajamas, he glowered unflinchingly at them. Behind him stood Milos: small of stature, with wispy grey hair and a face that was creased like an autumn leaf, he sported a beige housecoat over his nightclothes. Upon seeing his late-night house guests, the good doctor's eyes immediately locked onto Nate's and noticeably widened. He motioned to his grounds keeper to lower his gun, which Atticus reluctantly did. "Gentlemen, I am Doctor Milos Adamos," he said softly.

Nate quickly formulated a snarky reply to the tune of "I'm the guy who just broke into your house", but when he opened his mouth to speak he was interrupted by Milos again. "I know who you are, Mr. Drake," the old man then nodded at Sully, "Mr. Sullivan."

"Heh," Nate chuckled nervously, then added in a quiet aside, "It's normally not a good thing when someone tells me that they know who I am."

Turning to his grounds keeper, the aging Adamos declared, "I think it would be in order for us to have a talk with our guests, Atticus. Prepare the dining room." Then, turning to Nate and Sully, "Follow me, gentlemen."

The treasure hunting partners met eyes with each other, and Nate shrugged. As they followed awkwardly just behind the doctor, Sully leaned over and muttered in Nate's ear, "What the hell is happening? 'Prepare the dining room'? Is this guy some kind of cannibal?"

Nate frowned. "At this point, I'd say anything's possible."

Chapter Text

Atticus led the way through the darkness back toward the house, muttering a string of curses under his breath the whole way. It seemed clear he was none too pleased about Milos' insistence on showing such mercy to the two strangers who had broken into their house in the middle of the night. Pulling out a large key ring fat with keys as they approached the back entrance, he unlocked the door and pushed it open, flicking the lights on as he stepped inside. Nate and Sully entered just behind him while Milos brought up the rear.

The room they had just entered was in the shape of a semi circle, with windows all along the curved wall that looked out over the property. Nate guessed that the view was pretty incredible during the daylight hours. The ceiling soared a good twelve feet above them, dotted with inset can lights and hanging an impressive crystal chandelier in the center. The wall opposite the windows was covered in rich Venetian plaster and had multiple paintings of various scenes from Greek mythology, as well as a few landscapes along its thirty-some foot span. Under their feet, large, white, granite tiles gleamed with spotless perfection, each step on them yielding a soft tap as they approached a twelve foot long oval mahogany table that was polished to a mirror-like sheen and positioned directly under the chandelier. Walking beside Nate, Sully whistled. "Goddamn. I gotta get me one of these villas in the country," he muttered.

Nate shot him a bemused look while Milos addressed his grounds keeper in his authoritative yet gentle manner. "Atticus? Some drinks please. We must not fail to show hospitality to our esteemed guests. Gentlemen, your requests?"

The treasure hunters suddenly realized with a start they were being asked what they wanted to drink. Sully replied without hesitation, "Scotch, on the rocks," while Nate fumbled and stuttered, "Uh, a... beer... would be great."

Milos looked at Atticus to make sure the orders had been received. The dark-complected grounds keeper nodded and sauntered across the room to a small bar and began to prepare the drinks. "Also some coffee, please Atticus. And some toast and marmalade. Get some for yourself if you'd like. We have much to talk about." Milos then looked at Nate and Sully while he motioned to the table. "Please, sit down."

Nate shifted his weight from one foot to the other uneasily, his head bowed in something like shame. He was not quite sure how to handle being treated in such manner after being caught in the act of robbery. He raised his eyes without lifting his head and mumbled, "Uh, thanks." Quietly, he took a seat, Sully taking the chair next to him. Atticus returned, placing a tumbler of Scotch in front of Sully and a bottle of craft beer in front of Nate, then he disappeared through a set of French doors. Nate sipped his beer, vaguely noting that it was indeed quite a good brew, and fidgeted nervously. Sully also took a tentative swallow of his Scotch and quietly commented on the beauty of Milos' dining room. An awkward silence followed, but fortunately, the good doctor didn't leave the duo hanging for very long, and presently broached the imminent conversation himself.

"Well, I would like you two to know that it is quite an honor to meet you both, even if under- peculiar circumstances." He made eye contact, though not unkindly, with both Nate and Sully while saying this. "Indeed, it is something of an answer to prayer."

Both Nate and Sully's eyes widened at this, and they exchanged a glance. "We're all ears," Sully said as he looked back at Dr Adamos.

"Your reputation precedes you both, though what people make of your reputation is quite varied in the world of historians and archaeologists," Milos stated matter-of-factly. The doctor's voice was of a higher register than average for a man, but was tempered by a certain throaty gravel Nate assumed was lent him by his advancing age, resulting in a soothing quality that helped put him somewhat at ease despite his nerves.

"I can only imagine," Nate scoffed.

The doors opened and Atticus strode in, setting down a tray filled with the doctor's requested amenities, and distributed them to the three men seated at the table before sitting down with his own. Milos lifted the mug in a hand that trembled ever so slightly, his thin lips, nearly camouflaged by the deep wrinkles and creases surrounding them, parted as he took a drink of his coffee. Black, Nate noted.

"As for myself, I see that you are a much needed force in solving the many conundrums and puzzles that rise from the mists and fog of time here and there. Not restricted by the regulations and political ties that saddle orthodox archaeology, you are in an ideal, if controversial, place to handle the more unconventional cases." Milos began to spread the marmalade on his toast, the knife making a soft scraping sound as he did.

"But, Dr Adamos," Nate finally ventured to speak, "how is our breaking in an answer to prayer?"

The doctor set down his toast and knife and looked at Nate with an intensity that caught him off guard and made him shrink back in his chair, feeling like he may have said something wrong. "Tell me this. Did you come for Isaac Newton's journal?"

Nate shrugged, taking the book from his pocket and placing it on the table in front of him. "Yes."

"Why?" Milos asked evenly.

"It's what our client wanted," Sully stated. "We don't typically ask questions."

Milos shifted his gaze to Sully. "Do you know this client?"

Exchanging another look with Nate, he answered, "Not outside the immediate job, no."

Nate's eyes wandered to a large wall clock, and noticed it was now three in the morning. "Why do you ask?" he queried, turning his attention back to Adamos.

The doctor took another sip of his coffee and inhaled deeply. The effort made a raspy kind of noise. "I hope that the lateness of the night hasn't taken too much of a toll on your minds," he said, as if he noticed Nate's gaze wandering. "You'll need your wits about you for what you're about to hear."

Chuckling, Nate leaned forward, placing his elbows on the table. "Don't worry, I think we're fine." He took a swig of his coffee, swishing the dark, bitter liquid in his mouth before swallowing. Between the lingering adrenaline of the night that still trickled through his system and a good dose of caffeine, he had a feeling he wasn't going to fall asleep anytime soon.

Adamos leaned back in his chair and took a bite of toast, chewing carefully and swallowing before he continued. "Forgive me if any of the information I'm about to give you seems redundant. I'm aware you probably know some of this, but in the order of explanation I feel that it's better to start at the beginning." Seeing Nate and Sully's nods of approval, he proceeded. "Sir Isaac Newton is famous, of course, for his scientific accomplishments, but also wrote a good deal on both alchemy and religion. Many of these works were unorthodox and kept secret, for fear of his being seen as heretical by the church of the day, but it's clear that he was seeking more than could be found in mainstream science. Newton was heavily influenced by, among others, Aristotle, who was in turn taught by Plato." As he named the two patriarchs of western thinking, he reached across the table and flipped through Newton's journal, first to an image of one, then the other. "Plato is the originator of the legend of Atlantis." At the mention of Atlantis Nate stiffened, his attention now thoroughly glued to the doctor. "Although Plato's account of Atlantis has proved sufficiently vague to leave historians and amateurs alike grasping at straws for the last two millennia, it seems that he may have known more than he made public. This knowledge was something he would have only passed on to his most trusted friends, someone who could continue his search."

"Someone like Aristotle," Sully deduced. Draining the last of his scotch, he slid the glass tumbler aside and started on his coffee. A few seats down from the rest of the group, Atticus looked like he might fall asleep from boredom.

Milos gave the briefest of nods. "Exactly. Aristotle would have kept the knowledge alive, though how much he initially did with it is not certain. What is certain is that the knowledge was either deliberately passed or otherwise discovered by his most ambitious student-"

"Alexander the Great," Nate exclaimed, his eyes widening.

Another nod, this time supplemented with a smile. "I see you do have your wits on you still. Very good." Milos took another sip of coffee, slurping a bit as the cup trembled in his hand. "Alexander's attempt to deify himself is well known, as is his search for the legendary 'fountain of youth', which would have, in effect, legitimized his claim to godhood. According to Newton's research, Alexander believed, from what was passed down to him by Aristotle and Plato, that the fountain was in Atlantis. As Alexander's self-aggrandizing facade grew increasingly irritating and his adoption of Persian ways and customs became more and more offensive to the Greeks, however, Aristotle eventually became estranged from his one-time student. Alexander obviously never found what he was looking for, either due to Aristotle's withdrawal, potentially with a crucial piece of information, or, possibly," he paused meaningfully, "Aristotle may have facilitated Alexander's death."

"Assassination, huh?" Sully asked, leaning in.

"It's possible," Nate mused. "The stories about Alexander's death have named multiple people as potential conspirators, Aristotle included."

"If that's the case, which it might not be," Milos continued in his seemingly imperturbable and placid tone, "it would seem to point to something that Aristotle felt should not fall into the hands of a man as reckless as Alexander. Either way, Newton espoused that Atlantis was a kind of primeval giant of a society, being highly advanced in science and technology, potentially holding some of the alchemical mysteries he longed to understand, and perhaps even the key to eternal life." He took another bite of toast, and it crunched so loudly that Nate briefly wondered if it could possibly break the frail-looking doctor's jaw. "He saw parallels between Atlantis and the garden of Eden- a paradise that could provide us with a wealth of knowledge about our world and ourselves. Also with the Chinese legend of Peng Lai."

Nate paused to consider for a minute, then said, "I'm afraid I still don't understand, Doctor. It seems you know quite a bit about this, and I don't see how us trying to steal the journal is any kind of a help."

Milos swallowed, another action which seemed formidable for such a frail looking person. "I have spent the better part of the last ten years researching this, but have only found this one journal. You will find it contains a wealth of information that will prove useful, but much is still missing." He paused and ran his tongue over his very dry lips. "In the journal, Newton makes mention of a lab somewhere where he kept all his research that would more explicitly tell what he believed was there in Atlantis and where he thought it was. My guess is he hid such papers elsewhere for secrecy's sake, and for fear of being excommunicated or dishonored by the church. For the same reason he remained elusive about where the lab is, saying only that it was in the 'chapel of the moon'. I've searched but been unable to find anything to match such a vague description. Also he mentions a key- quite an unusual one."

"The sphere? The one you have a sketch of on your desk?" Nate asked eagerly.

"The same," Adamos said.

Chuckling, Nate revealed, "Yeah. I think I found that."

Milos' eyes went wide, and his hand began to shake even more than usual as he returned his mug to the table in mid-drink, possibly to avoid sloshing the contents through his violent tremors. "You found the astrolabe? Where?"

"Delphi," he said with a smile.

"Of course," the doctor spoke softly, his dim green eyes focused intently on Nathan's. He seemed to consider for a moment, then said with authority, "Drake, you must find the lab, find where Atlantis is, and finish what I began!"

Nate's mouth formed an "O" and he swallowed a bite of toast and marmalade whole. "But-but it's your research. Your hard work! And besides, I just can't-"

"My advancing age and declining health keep me from being able to do field work any longer," the doctor cut in, "and as I mentioned before, all of us in the world of formal archaeologists and historians are somewhat limited in what we can do. I'm afraid only someone in your particular position would be able to make the necessary progress."

Nate faltered as he searched for a way to explain his predicament. "Point taken, Doctor Adamos, but I- I can't."

Sully raised his eyebrows. Milos leaned back in his chair and regarded Nate curiously. Atticus snored loudly, slowly leaning farther and farther to the side.

"Why, might I ask, is the man who discovered Eldorado and Shambala unwilling to go after Atlantis?" Milos asked, his tone even and steady. "What did you get the astrolabe for, if not to go after it?"

Still looking a bit dumbstruck, Nate blurted, "That was a curiosity. Just a side project. I got tipped off about it and nabbed it while my wife and I were sightseeing in Greece. I just- I can't. She's gonna flip if I go off on another crazy search for some lost city right now!" he stammered.

A silence fell over everyone at the table- except for Atticus, who nearly toppled from his chair and woke with a start. Adamos again broke the silence in a carefully measured, foreboding voice. "The search for Atlantis is greater than any man's personal trouble. We must all, at times, make great sacrifices for the greater good." He paused. "If this client of yours hired you to steal the journal, I would venture to say he is not the type to be deterred from finding out what he wants to know- whether or whether not he gets the journal from you. Do you believe him to be trustworthy?"

"Garnier?" Sully asked. "He's just some croissant-eating scientist who probably wants it as a trophy. He's harmless."

"How much is he paying you?" Milos asked.

"Twenty thou," Sully stated matter-of-factly. Then he cocked his head to the side as if having a sudden thought. "Eh, I see your point."

"I implore you, gentlemen, for the sake of the world, ensure that this man has good motives for wanting this," Milos exhorted them, waving the journal in the air and then sliding it back across the table to Nate. "If not, you must find Atlantis before he does, and stop whatever it holds from falling into the wrong hands."

Nate looked at him aghast. "You're going to let us just leave with the journal?"

The doctor smiled thinly at him. "My work is done here, Mr Drake. I trust you to do the right thing with it." He stood, sliding his chair back across the tiles with a scrape, and Nate and Sully followed suit. "Do you require an escort back to your vehicle?"

"Ah," Nate's mind whirled as he struggled to form words. "We're fine."

"Very well then." He reached out and shook both of their hands. "Once again, it has been an honor."

The two treasure hunters mumbled their agreement and walked to the door. Just as it was about to close behind Nate, Milos' voice stopped him. "Nathan?"

Nate just looked at him through the partly-open door in response.

"Just be warned," the doctor said softly. "The path to Atlantis will be more dangerous than you can possibly imagine."

Nate hesitated in the doorway for a moment longer, eying the old man, and said in a low voice, "I've got a pretty good imagination." He then joined Sully outside, closing the door behind him.

As the pair strode across the field back to the road and their waiting car, Sully muttered, "I've never been so confused as to whether to call a job a success or a failure before."

"I know what you mean," Nate replied, his mouth set grimly.

Chapter Text

Horns blared as Sully dodged the rental car in between an expensive convertible and a cargo van and then screeched it around the corner at the last possible moment. From the convertible, a lady wearing offensively large earrings gestured rudely at him.

"Yeah, lady, why don't you take that finger and shove it up your-"

"Sully!" Elena scolded from the back seat.

"Sorry, sorry!" Victor apologized without much sincerity. "It's just people in France need to learn how to drive, I guess."

Nate, visibly shaken in the passenger's seat, eyed Sully with disbelief. "Yeah? And learn how to basically miss a turn and weasel your way in at the risk of everyone in the car and around the car?"

"Hey! You all shoulda' told me that was my turn. I'm countin' on ya, here."

Nate shrugged and watched the city of Versailles pass by outside his window. Charming homes and store fronts with carefully arranged flowerpots in the windows were interrupted by magnificent Romanesque buildings with soaring fluted columns. People crowded the sidewalks and flooded the parks, from locals going about their daily business to tourists taking selfies by the city's fountains and sculptures. It was a pretty town, he decided. Shame that they had to come here on business.

"So the guy didn't even tell you where we're meeting him at?" Nate asked, turning back to Sully.

Sully turned another corner, his eyes scanning his surroundings. "He just said it was on the corner of Les Eaux and Royale street. We should be real close."

Elena glanced out the window and gathered that they were currently on Royale street. Pushing herself up off the seat so she could see over Sully's shoulder, she then quickly spotted a sign approaching for Les Eaux boulevard. "There!" she said, pointing out the sign. Sully nodded and coasted over to the side of the road, coming to a stop in a parking space. Climbing out of the vehicle, the three partners gathered on the sidewalk to scope out the area. Nate, dressed in a light gray suit with no tie, tugged on his lapels while scanning the signs on the buildings. Sully, dressed in a brown suit and equally tieless, was busy fishing a cigar out of his pocket and lighting it, while Elena, looking fabulous in an emerald green dress with paisley side panels that was well-fitted to her form, placed her hands on her hips and frowned. "Hey, what did you say this guy's name was?"

Nate absent-mindedly fished for a name while studying a storefront across the street. "Garret. Garnet? Gardner."

"Garnier," Sully supplied, his voice now muffled through the fat cigar he was chomping. "Mathis Garnier."

"That's the one."

"Hmm," Elena hummed, putting a hand on her husband's shoulder and turning him around. "Do you think it might be-this place here?"

Nate's eye's followed her finger to where she was pointing. At the corner of Royale and Les Eaux sat a large, ornate hotel with the words "Hotel Garnier" across the marquee.

"That... seems likely," Nate agreed. "Good job, 'Lena."

Elena rolled her eyes and sighed as the three of them walked through the revolving door into the hotel lobby.

Elena had, truth be told, not been thrilled about Nate going on a job with Sully during their sabbatical to Greece (even if their "sabbatical" included a stop at Delphi to spend the morning treasure hunting). But when Nate told her the amount of money the client was paying for what seemed to be a straightforward lift, even she had raised her eyebrows, knowing that ten grand would certainly go a long way towards buying them a respectable house. So she reluctantly agreed, opting to stay at the hotel in Athens to work on her application for a foreign correspondence position while he was gone. When Nate returned three days later, still alive and with all his limbs, saying that he would need to accompany Sully to France to deliver the goods to his client, she had opted to come, saying it "sounded romantic". Nate had seemed reluctant at first, but quickly warmed up to the idea, agreeing that having a beautiful woman present tended to make all business deals go better. Thus, she found herself, the respectable news reporter, accompanying two thieves into a fancy French hotel to deliver their stolen merchandise to a customer. Glancing around the exquisitely designed lobby, she smiled to herself. Well, it could be worse.

Victor strode confidently across the lobby towards the receptionist, an attractive young woman in a tight navy suit coat with long tresses of brown hair. Giving a winning smile and leaning an elbow on the granite counter that sparkled as if with a million little diamonds, he leaned in close and opened his mouth to speak. Before he could utter a word, however, the woman cut him off in a thickly accented voice, "No smoking in the building, please sir."

Nate and Elena both suppressed a laugh as Sully took the cigar from his mouth, visibly deflated. "Oh, for Christ's sake," he muttered, stubbing the end on the granite and sweeping the embers off onto the tile floor. The woman watched with disapproval, but maintained her composure as she spoke again.

"Merci. Now may I help you, kind sir?"

"Yeah, my name's Victor, Victor Sullivan," he growled, shoving the cigar into an inside pocket of his suit coat, "I'm here to meet Mr. Garnier."

The woman opened a book on the counter in front of her and scanned its pages, almost immediately finding what she was looking for. "Ah, that Mr. Garnier. Yes sirs, madam, follow me."

As the girl stepped out from behind the reception desk, Sully furrowed his brow and looked at Nate. "What does she mean, 'that Mr. Garnier'?" Nate shrugged.

Walking at a brisk pace, she led them into an elevator and pushed the button for the roof level. As they were carried up eight floors to their destination, Elena admired the gilded brasswork and rich wood paneling that covered the inside of the car, while Nate leaned against the wall and stuffed his hands in his pockets awkwardly. Sully kept his arms folded over his chest and stared at the corner of the ceiling, obviously still miffed about the lack of public acceptance for his favorite indulgence. A sharp ding! announced their arrival, and the doors opened onto a rooftop dining area, filled with small round tables of happily conversing people, while a jazz band played softly over in the corner. The young woman led them through the crowd, past tables of businessmen casually discussing sales and the current market, past young couples making doey eyes at each other while they basked in the romantic atmosphere that presumably came part and parcel with being in France, and past the occasional loner, all of whom seemed like they were tolerating the presence of everyone else mostly for the sake of the view from the top of the hotel. The breeze carried with it the scent of flowers and a nearby bakery, as well as a hint of smog.

"Par-don, par-don!" Nate said in an exaggerated French accent as he dodged a waiter in a red vest carrying a tray of drinks from the bar.

"Nate!" Elena whispered.

"What?" he asked innocently. "I think he appreciated it!"

"I think you're embarrassing!" she giggled, looping her arm through his.

Finally they arrived at a table occupied solely by a man who looked to be about Nate's age, wearing a gray suit and dark tie, sitting with one leg crossed over the other, and contentedly watching the jazz band, of whom he had an excellent view from his position. As he saw the group approaching, he stood and spread his arms wide in warm greeting.

"Victor!" he exclaimed, vigorously shaking Sully's hand.

"Mathis. Good to see you." As he withdrew his hand from Garnier's grasp, he flexed his fingers as if checking to make sure he still had full mobility of them.

As the receptionist slipped silently away, the Frenchman turned and looked at Nate. "And this must be your associate, Mr..."

"Drake," Nate offered, shaking his hand firmly. As he did he also gave him a quick once-over, from his impeccably side-parted and gelled down mop of brown hair to his spit-polished black shoes. He did not notice any signs the man was concealing a weapon.

Shifting his attention to Elena, Garnier gave a particularly diplomatic smile. "And the lovely lady?"

"Elena Fisher." She also took his hand to shake it, which he briefly did before giving the back of her hand a quick peck.

"Delighted," the scientist said, releasing his grip.

Roused to jealousy, Nate quickly placed an arm around Elena's shoulders. "My wife," he said, giving their client a tight smile.

Nate's sudden possessiveness did not elude the French scientist, who chuckled and responded, "You're a lucky man, my friend."

"I'll say," Elena agreed.

As she took a seat with the others at the table, Nate stood looking dejected. "What's that supposed to mean?" Elena only giggled at him again and patted the seat beside her. He sat down, still looking a bit put-out, and Elena began to rub his knee as a waiter came over to take their order.

"Drinks for all?" Garnier asked. "Champagne?"

"Whiskey, please," Sully promptly asked.

"SULLY!" Elena whisper-hissed at him. "We're at a nice place, can you not get something else for once?"

"Like what?" Sully sulked.

"No, no, that should be fine," Garnier said calmly. "I believe we have something that should suit you just fine. And for you two?"

"Champagne sounds wonderful," Elena said.

"Uh, yeah- me too..." Nate mumbled, glancing at his wife.

As the waiter walked away to get their order, Sully shrugged. "To business, then?" He reached into his suit pocket for the journal, but was stopped by the Frenchman, who held a hand up.

"Business- with pleasure, my friend. Please, how have you been? Is everything going well for you?" Garnier inquired.

"Oh, fine, fine," Sully mumbled. "Say, now that we're in the open air again, mind if I-" he held up his partially smoked cigar from earlier.

"By all means," Garnier obliged.

"Thanks a million," Sully said, planting the foul stub in his teeth and flicking open his lighter again. Nate coughed discreetly as the acrid smoke wafted across the table.

For the next fifteen or twenty minutes, the conversation continued in a business-casual, cordial kind of way, mostly between Sully and Garnier with Nate adding his two cents here and there, and Elena remaining almost completely silent, seeming to be more interested in watching the band. Presently, the waiter returned with their drinks, setting down three champagne flutes and a glass of something that Nate noticed with amusement was definitely not whiskey. As Sully tasted the beverage, his nose scrunched into a look of distaste that went unnoticed by their French host.

"...and it was so tight it took two other men and the host of the party to get the shoe off the poor woman!" Sully concluded another of his tall tales amidst laughter from the other men at the table. Elena still seemed distracted, casting another glance over at the musicians before nudging Nate with her elbow.

"I think I need to use the restroom. Nate, honey, do you think you could help me find it?" She gave him a meaningful look.

"Oh, um, sure," he said, a little surprised.

"Go through those doors over there and then down the stairs to your right," Mathis directed as the pair stood and walked away.

Elena seemed not to notice the appreciative looks she was earning from many of the men in the crowd as she walked across the roof in her snugly-fitting dress. Nate, however, did notice, and shut down some of the more obvious offenders with a withering glare. She brusquely led the way down the stairs and up to the door of the women's bathroom, where Nate dutifully pulled up short and turned around.

"I'll just wait h-gahh!" Elena seized him by the arm and drug him inside. The bathroom was, fortunately, empty, and she quickly pushed him into one of the stalls and entered behind him, closing and locking the door. "What gives?" Nate asked in a harsh whisper. "Did you not see the stick figure wearing a dress on the door? I mean, I love you too, but I just don't think this is the place to-"

"Something's going on, Nate. Who is this guy?" Elena asked urgently.

A look of bewilderment passed over his face. "What do you mean?"

Shifting her weight onto one hip, Elena began to count on her fingers as she spoke, "A client who refuses to tell us the name of the place we're meeting him at eventually has us meet him at a hotel that shares his name; upon hearing that we're here to meet Mr. Garnier, the receptionist says 'oh, that Garnier,'; instead of just getting the deal done and getting out, he wants to chat it up in a very public place; and on top of all that, I've identified at least three members of that jazz band who are packing! Maybe that kind of thing is normal in France, but where I come from, the entertainment at high class establishments don't carry handguns! What the hell is going on?"

Just then the door burst open and they could here a woman entering the restroom while talking loudly on the phone. They both froze in place while the woman entered the stall next to theirs while carrying on a boisterous conversation in French. Hardly daring to breath, Nate and Elena waited in silence. The toilet flushed and they heard the door of her stall open, then the sound of the sink running, and then finally the woman exited the bathroom, her conversation fading as the door shut behind her.

"The musicians have guns?" Nate hissed. "Ah, crap. I should have known it was going to go this way."

"What?" Elena asked in shock. "Why?"

"I don't know, because it always does?" Nate said, exasperated. "Look, I'll explain it to you later. But surely this guy wouldn't risk attacking us in broad daylight and in public, right?"

Elena looked doubtful. "I don't want to find out," she said soberly.

Nate's mind raced. "We've gotta warn Sully!" he said. "C'mon, let's get back up there."

The couple exited the bathroom just as another woman was getting ready to walk in, and were met with a look of confusion and reproach. After a brief, awkward standoff, Nate said reassuringly, "Nous avons nettoye," and then slipped past as the woman's expression changed to one of horror.

Chapter Text

As they approached the table and resumed their seats, Garnier smiled warmly at them. Nate smiled back and took a sip of his champagne. "Well, now that we're all here again, I suppose we should get down to business. I trust you retrieved the journal with no complications?"

"Not a hitch," Sully said with his tongue firmly in his cheek as he placed the slim book on the table. Feeling something bump his foot, he glanced over at Nate questioningly. Nate was not looking at him, but instead maintaining an unbroken gaze at Mathis and smiling as the Frenchman picked up the book and studied it. Then Sully noticed his friend's fingers drumming erratically on his knee, and watched carefully as Nate spelled out the word "trouble" in Morse code. His mouth momentarily formed a grim and hard set line before resuming a businesslike smile and facing his client.

"Ah, beautiful, beautiful," Garnier murmured as he flipped through the pages. "I will have the money wired to your accounts immediately. Beautiful, really beautiful..."

"Say, Mathis," Sully said casually, "been meaning to ask you- you never told me you owned a hotel?"

The scientist laughed. "My brother Pierre's. He lets me use it often for meetings. I hope it didn't come across as too egocentric."

"Not at all," Nate lied.

Leaning back in his chair, the Frenchman spoke again, "I really cannot thank you enough for obtaining this for me. It will be most helpful for my little scientific foray." Leaning back in his chair, he sighed melodramatically. "There was in fact one more thing I hoped you could obtain for me, but alas, it seems someone has- how you say- beat me to the punch?"

As he spoke, Nate noticed a trio of men on the far side of the roof that held a long banner stretched out between them, one on each end and one in the middle. He couldn't tell what the banner said but watched as they began to circle around the perimeter of the roof, coming slowly towards them.

"...a little trinket in Delphi. Really a pity." Garnier was saying. "You wouldn't know anything about it, would you?"

At the mention of Delphi Nate sat bolt upright and stared accusingly at the French scientist. "How do you know about that?"

"About what?" the man asked, feigning innocence. "You're not suggesting you retrieved it, are you?"

Heaving a frustrated sigh, Nate glanced quickly around to be sure they were still maintaining a low profile among the patrons and then leaned forward and spoke in a low voice. "Mathis, you're a scientist, not an actor. If I were you, I'd keep it that way. Now you tell us what you're up to, or this whole deal is off, journal and all."

"At ease, my friend, at ease," the Frenchman said softly. "I am engaged in some very important research in several different fields that could be groundbreaking, history-making even. I simply require these two things to be able to proceed. I am willing to pay very generously-"

"Yeah?" Nate interrupted tersely. " Well I'm not selling." The men with the banner were now only twenty yards away in their circuit around the roof.

"Ten thousand more for each of you," Garnier offered.

"Not, selling," Nate repeated.

"Twenty thousand."

Sully surprised them all by banging a fist on the table. "Damn it, Mathis, which part of 'not selling' do you not understand?"

"Oh, bullshit!" Garnier exclaimed, finally blowing his cool. "Everyone's selling, you just have to find the right price. Now," he said with a snake-like calm as he turned back to Nate, "what's your price?"

The sound of a gun being cocked made Nate look down. Through the glass table top he could see that Mathis was now holding a semi automatic pointed directly at him, or more specifically, at his crotch. Nate glanced back up to see that the men carrying the banner had stopped directly in front of their table, effectively blocking off all view of what was happening in their little corner from the rest of the patrons dining on the roof. Garnier smiled venomously at him.

Elena had now seen what was going on as well and inhaled sharply. Sully's eyes flicked between the gun, Nate, and Garnier. Thinking quickly, Nate stealthily pulled his pocketknife from his pants pocket and held it so just the very end of the metal casing protruded from his tightly balled fist. Looking the Frenchman in the eye, he suddenly shouted, "Sully, break left!". Bringing his fist sharply upwards, he struck the underside of the table top with the end of his knife, shattering the glass and causing all of its contents, including the journal, to fall to the ground. In the same motion he stood and flipped the table up, scraping the metal band that wrapped the edge of the table down Garnier's arm and knocking the gun out of his grip. The Frenchman fell over backward with a cry, the table landing squarely on his stomach before rolling away. Seeing Sully quickly retreating in the direction he had indicated, Nate used his foot to give the journal a shove and slide it across the roof to him, and Sully quickly scooped it up. Next Nate stooped and picked up Mathis' fallen weapon from amidst the shards of glass.

"NATE!"

Hearing Elena's scream, he quickly stood up to see Garnier charging at him, but did not have enough time to react. The slight Frenchman plowed into him full force, and the two men went sprawling through the banner, tearing it right down the middle. They rolled in opposite directions as they hit the ground while the gun skittered out straight ahead into the crowd, and the two men quickly scrambled to their feet to go after it.

The effect on the other occupants of the rooftop was electrifying and instantaneous. Men and women alike leaped from their tables, knocking over food and drink alike, and began scrambling toward the exit in panic. People were shoving, pushing, screaming, and tripping over each other in the sudden mayhem as the men rushed frantically toward the weapon. Nate reached the gun first, but as he bent to retrieve it Garnier smashed a bottle over his back and shoved him to the side. Nate rolled and recovered quickly, springing to his feet and shoving Mathis' gun hand aside before he could shoot. Grabbing the Frenchman by the collar, he tossed him onto a nearby table where he slid across it, cleaning off its contents before falling back to the roof.

"Watch your back kid!" Sully shouted.

Nate whipped around to see the jazz band breaking up and rushing at him, several of them throwing their instruments aside in favor of concealed firearms. As the first one was getting a shot lined up, Elena hurled a bottle of wine, smashing it into the side of his head and gaining Nate the seconds he needed to close the distance. Locking hands with the next one back, Nate rammed his knee into the man's groin and then headbutted him, laying him out flat. Sully met the trombone player with a punch to the jaw while Nate grabbed the gun off of his fallen opponent. Seeing movement out of the corner of his eye, Nate turned his head to see a saxophone flying toward him and dodged it just in time. Blocking another attempted strike, Nate punched the man wielding the instrument in the jaw before doubling him over and kneeing him in the stomach. Ripping the saxophone from his grasp, Nate used it to deliver a finishing downward stroke to the man's back, the impact reverberating in the curved bell of the instrument.

"Hey, that thing was expensive!" Sully quipped.

"They can buy a new one," Nate said dryly, tossing the instrument aside.

"Where's Garnier?" Elena asked, coming up beside them.

"He's gone," Nate said grimly. "And good riddance. Let's get out of here while we still can. But here," he bent down and raided the unconscious forms of the band, producing two more guns. "Just in case," he said, handing one to Sully and one to Elena.

As they took in the sight of the dozens of hapless patrons still trying to flood the exits, the trio quickly regrouped and formed a plan. "This elevator's obviously out of the question," Elena said.

"And those stairs aren't much better," Sully added, nodding at the doors Nate and Elena had gone through earlier, which were packed with confused and panicked people.

"There's a staff entrance over there," Nate said. "Let's try that."

Using the service entrance, the three partners made their way down a set of bare concrete steps to an equally plain steel door with a small window in it. Nate peered through the window before cautiously opening the door and stepping through into some kind of a maintenance room. "This way, we'll take this," Nate said, motioning toward a freight elevator over to one side. He jabbed the button impatiently, and the doors opened up into a large rectangular car which they all stepped into. "Going down- ground floor!" he said smugly, pressing the button.

The three adventurers stood silently watching the light descend down the numbers, growing ever closer to their escape. Nate smirked and opened his mouth to make a joke, but right then the car stopped at floor number two and the doors opened into what was clearly a large commercial kitchen. The three people in the elevator looked wide-eyed past the slack jawed cooks who were turning to look in wonder at the gun-toting strangers, past the obvious head chef who was glaring at them from beneath some extremely bushy eyebrows, and even past Mathis Garnier, who turned to see the new arrivals along with everyone else in the kitchen. They looked past all of these, their eyes firmly fixed on the three dark-suited men with submachine guns who were currently raising their weapons to shoot them.

"OH CRAP!" Nate bellowed, shoving Sully to one side of the door opening while he pulled Elena to the other along with himself. Automatic gunfire plowed the opposite wall of the elevator as the three treasure hunters pressed themselves as tightly as possible into the front corners of the car and squeezed their eyes shut against the maelstrom of bullets. Elena furiously jabbed at the button to close the doors, but finally gave up and shouted to her husband over the noise of the guns to tell him that it wouldn't budge. Finally Nate ventured to put his hand out around the edge of the door and blind fired into the kitchen, praying that any innocent people had long since fled the vicinity. After several rounds from Nate, the machine gunners ceased firing and Nate risked a glance around the edge. Seeing the gunmen nowhere in sight, Nate crawled out behind the end of a counter and peered around the edge of it. He was immediately greeted with another volley of gunfire and ducked back. "These guys are relentless!" he muttered to himself. He blind fired a few more bullets their direction but stayed huddled low behind the counter.

Suddenly, a pair of strong hands grabbed him by the back of his suit jacket and yanked him up and over the counter. His attacker looped their arms up under Nate's armpits, firmly restraining him, and jerked him around until he was face to face with a tall man in a waistcoat brandishing a chef's knife. "Gah!" Nate cried, his eyes round as saucers, and he quickly lifted both feet and kicked the knife-wielding thug backward into the kitchen island, causing a great clatter of pots and pans, and then immediately threw his head back, striking the man holding him on the bridge of his nose and causing him to release his grip with a cry of pain. Nate hit the ground and rolled as another spray of machine gun fire pinged off a line of hanging skillets like wind chimes, coming up near the thug he had just kicked. Staying low behind the shelter of the metal island, the two opponents shared a quick exchange of blows while Sully and Elena kept up cover fire in the direction of the machine gunners. Soon they had dispatched the two gunners, while Nate had his man laid out unconscious on the floor.

The three partners gathered, breathing heavily. "Nice work," Nate panted.

Just then a set of double doors on the other end of the kitchen crashed open and in walked three more thugs, fists raised, and followed by Garnier. "We're not out of the woods yet," Sully rumbled.

"Get the journal!" Garnier shrieked, pointing at them.

Fists and curses flew as the trio met the new wave of opponents. Sully was quickly singled out by Garnier himself, while Elena sparred with one of the thugs and Nate was quickly backed against a butcher block by the other two. For a few moments he held his own, but then one of the thugs wrenched his arm behind his back and shoved him down on the counter, upsetting an open bottle of liquor as he did. The contents spilled out in a stream down the wooden surface, slowly trickling toward the gas range at the end.

"Hey, c'mon," Nate growled, trying to squirm his way out of the hold the man had him in. "That was some good stuff you just wasted." As he struggled, his eyes followed the stream of alcohol on its path, and suddenly he realized he was in trouble. "Oh, no, not good."

The little river spilled over onto the stove top and hit the pilot light, immediately flaring up. Nate watched in horror as the line of flames shot along the top of the spilled liquor coming straight towards him, his eyes getting progressively wider as it came nearer. "AhhHHH!" Suddenly a meat cleaver embedded itself in the butcher block several inches from his face, cutting across the stream of alcohol and momentarily arresting the spread of the flames. A split second later there was a loud, metallic clang, and the thug holding Nate down released him and collapsed on the floor. Nate shoved himself away from the counter as the flames leaped over the wide blade of the meat cleaver and ignited the rest of the stream of alcohol, and he turned to see Elena holding a large frying pan low and to her side with both hands, obviously at the end of the arc that had put the utensil in contact with the goon's head. He grinned a crooked grin, but quickly his expression changed to one of horror as he saw the other thug he had been fighting coming up behind her with a knife. "Elena!" he squeaked.

In a flash she swung around, smashing the heavy pan across the other thug's face with an equally jarring twang as the one that had sounded a moment earlier. A look of punch-drunken stupor briefly washed over the hapless man's face before he crumpled to the ground.

Nate chuckled as he wiped the sweat from his brow. "Heh, thanks."

Elena looked at him and smiled in that way that Nate had grown to love, to adore even- that way that only Elena could- before slinging the pan across her shoulder like it was a baseball bat. "No problem," she said softly.

As Sully strutted across the kitchen toward them, Nate called out, "Hey, slugger! How'd you fare?"

Sticking an unlit cigar between his teeth, Sully replied, "Well, Frenchy there learned a thing or two about fighting with Victor Sullivan. Unfortunately, before I could really teach him a lesson, he slipped away through a side door, but-" he held up a finger and then reached for his jacket pocket. "He didn't get-" Sully's smug look suddenly morphed into one of shock. "The journal! Goddammit, he got the journal!"

As the two men of the group bemoaned the turn of events, Elena stood aloof to one side. "Sooo... what?" she asked. "It's just an old book, right?"

Nate frowned and shook his head. "No, you don't understand. It's- it's important... I can explain everything later, but we have to catch up with Garnier somehow."

A crackling noise behind them caused the three of them to turn and see that the fire that had started on the stove had spread to a nearby wastebasket, and smoke was beginning to billow up. "Oh no," Elena said. "We gotta get that thing put out before-"

With a whoosh the flames suddenly caught the grease covered dishes on the counter next to it, almost instantly tripling in size. In another moment the snapping, spitting inferno had spread to a pile of linens sitting nearby, and began rapidly growing in size.

"C'mon, let's get out of here!" Nate cried. The three burst out of the kitchen into a hallway and then through another set of double doors back out onto the main floor of the hotel. As they raced down the hall past neatly numbered guest rooms, Nate yanked a fire alarm on the wall and a shrill whine split the air, adding to the already growing pandemonium in the building. On hearing the unmistakable drone of the alarm, several straggling patrons shrieked and dove into their rooms to collect their valuables. The trio of treasure hunters pressed on, rushing up first one hall, then down the next, looking for any sign of the contemptible scientist.

After a good fifteen or twenty minutes of searching the surrounding floors, all while dodging panicked guests that were scrambling for the exits, Sully finally growled in frustration, "He's not here kid. Probably made for the exit as soon as he had the book in his possession."

Nate let out an defeated sigh. "You're right. We should head for the ground."

Elena, still feeling very much left out of some crucial information, gave a nervous chuckle. "That is typically the best thing to do when you're in a building that's on fire."

They rounded the next corner to see a the next hall engulfed in flames. "Shit!" Nate cursed. "This is really getting out of hand!"

"Come on!" Sully shouted. "This way!"

They bolted down the stairwell until they finally reached the ground floor and burst into the lobby. The room was swarming with people, all being herded out the front doors by firemen standing just inside, calling out over the chaos. Eying the front desk, Nate had a sudden idea.

"The valet records!" he exclaimed. "We can find out where Garnier's parked! That will give us a better chance of getting to him before he's gone."

"Good idea," Sully agreed.

They began trying to work their way to the desk, but it involved cutting directly across the flow of people, and proved to be nearly impossible. Stepping out into the crowd was like stepping into a fast flowing current- you were instantly swept along in the direction it was going, with little chance of escape. "Excuse me, excuse me, ex...'scuse me," Nate said loudly as he tried in vain to make his way through the frantic crowd. Soon they had been hustled out the front doors, with no chance of slipping past the firemen to get back inside. As the wild-eyed patrons dispersed in every direction around them, Nate grabbed his wife and Sully by their shoulders and pulled them to the side.

"Well, that didn't work," Elena said, unhelpfully.

"No," Sully agreed. "People were trying to get outside like it was going out of style."

Nate glanced up at the hotel they had just left. Flames shot from the widows in multiple places, and loud crashes could be heard from inside as parts of the interior collapsed. "I can't say I blame them," he said dryly. "Let's keep going, the parking garage is this way."

The quickly found it off the back side of the hotel, and began cautiously walking down the lines of cars. As they walked, Nate could hear a familiar voice echoing through the garage, and motioned for them to stay low as they approached. Ducking between vehicles and staying close to the edge, they were soon within a couple of parking spaces from Garnier as he paced back and forth, talking on his phone in an agitated tone of voice. Nate was tempted to jump him right then and there, but decided to wait and listen to what he was saying, so instead stayed crouched behind the car they were using for cover, his gun held at the ready.

"...that's what I said. Yes..." The Frenchman scrubbed a hand over his face, which was glistneing with sweat. "You got it? Good. Yes, get us the next available flight to Reykjavik, We will proceed with plan 'B'." As he hung up the phone, a woman screamed, causing him, as well as the three treasure hunters hidden nearby, to turn and look.

Just outside the garage, a middle aged woman was practically hanging from a fireman's arm as she screamed hysterically, "You don't understand! My child is in there! On the top floor! You've got to do something!"

With tremendous self control and professional calm, the fireman proceeded to explain to her that they would get to her child as soon as possible, but that they had not even been able to get trucks close to the building with the amount of people that were still pouring out of it. The woman broke down sobbing on the ground as the fireman did his best to console her.

"Oh my god," Elena breathed.

Nate glanced at the burning hotel with a grim realization. "She said her child's on the top floor... That building's tall- the ladder's won't reach high enough! They'll never get there in time!"

The screech of tires made the three turn to see Garnier driving away in a black Porsche, still not having spotted them in their hiding place. The scientist swerved to get around the woman and the fireman, earning himself a dirty look from the latter, and was gone.

"What an asshole," Sully muttered.

Gritting his teeth, Nate made his decision and stood. "I've got to help that lady."

Elena looked shocked. "What? Nate, how? Why? You don't have any of their equipment, what makes you think you'll be able to do what the fire department can't?"

Nate looked at his wife with compassion, but also with unwavering resolve. "It's like I said, at best their ladders only go up seven floors, and that's after they manage to get all the people out so they can even get close to the building. There's no way they'll get there in time. Besides," he added grimly, "it's my fault this even happened. It's the least I can do-"

"This-" Sully gestured to the burning hotel, "is not your fault. It's that son-of-a-bitch Garnier's fault."

"But it never would've happened if we hadn't been here today," Nate said. Then, in a voice soft and pleading, he added, "Please, I just can't see an innocent person die because of me. I have to do something."

Elena and Sully returned a sober gaze. Giving another look at the building, Nate said, "I'll be back. I promise," then jogged over to the blazing hotel.

Chapter Text

"Flames: check. Thick, choking, black smoke: check. Child trapped on the eighth floor: check. One Nathan Drake," Nate ducked under a smoldering beam that had fallen at an angle, "also: check. Anything we don't have?" A light fixture dropped out of the ceiling and he dodged as it swung like a pendulum from its own wires, raining down a shower of sparks. "Oh, yeah. A plan." He sighed. "How do I get myself into these situations?"

Some other burning object came crashing down nearby, and Nate instinctively put up his hands to shield himself. "Ahhh, crap Nate, you're wasting time!" he huffed. "Gotta get to that kid." He squinted into the smoky, indistinct haze that was the interior of the once-proud hotel Garnier and spotted the door to a stairwell hanging partway open. Carefully he made his way through it and sprinted up the stairs, reaching out to place a hand on the iron railing as he went. On touching it, though, he immediately retracted his hand, flapping it in the air. "Ouch! That things as hot as a branding iron!", he exclaimed. All around him the walls crawled with flames, the heat scorching his face and drenching his clothes with sweat as he ran, counting as he went. Third floor, fourth floor, fifth...

He turned to run up the stairs to the sixth floor, but was stopped by a crashing noise from above him. Looking up, he yelped and jumped backward into the doorway behind him, barely avoiding being crushed under the weight of the stairs above him that had suddenly given out along with the landings. Several floors worth of stairs came crashing down like a wrecking ball, tearing off most of the landing Nate was standing on and smashing through everything beneath him as they continued to plummet towards the ground. Nate's heart felt like it was in his throat as he stood on a jagged ledge less than a foot wide that had been left, his back pressed tightly up against the door as he surveyed the terrifying void now in front of him. Finally managing to tear his eyes away from the five story drop into hell, he ruefully glanced upward before feeling along the door for the knob. "Looks like it's time for plan 'B' ...uh, ya' know. Whatever that is..."

The door opened onto a balcony that ran the length of what looked to have been a meeting room or ball room of some sort. At least, it used to run the length of it, the center twenty feet or so had collapsed along with the floor of the room below, of which only a few floor joists remained like a skeleton of something long dead. Smoke billowed up from the lower floors, and the crackling flames that engulfed the room gleamed eerily off of a crystal chandelier that hung suspended over the chasm. Nate coughed and choked on the thick air as he squinted into the inferno. Another balcony, identical to the one he was on, ran down the other side of the room, and it looked like that one was still intact. If he could only get over there, then maybe he could find a way to keep climbing floors. Nate frowned as he looked back to the gaping hole in the floor, then up to the room's ornate light fixture. "Well," he sighed, "no guts," he ran and jumped onto the railing of the balcony and then pushed off, "no glory!" Every diamond pendant on the chandelier rattled and clanked together as he grabbed the rim of the ponderous ornament and swung through the burnt orange haze toward the other side of the room. Just as the chandelier reached the end of it's swing and Nate was about to leap off, it came loose from the ceiling and began to fall, catching him by surprise. "Oh crap!" he cried, letting go and flying through the air, arms flailing. He bounced off the railing on the other side and just barely managed to catch the floor of the balcony with one hand, dangling precariously over the collapsed section of floor below. With a grunt, Nate swung his other hand up and grabbed the railing, then pulled himself over onto the balcony. "Heh, made it," he wheezed. "God, I'm gonna sound like Sully after inhaling all this smoke."

He began to jog down the balcony in search of another way up, but stopped halfway down when he felt a tremor rock the building. Frowning as he realized that his time was running out, he started off again, determined to find the woman's child. Several startlingly loud cracks split the air, then suddenly the balcony broke about thirty feet in ahead and fell at a sharp angle downward. "Ohhh shit!" Nate cursed, at first tumbling head over heels down the newly made ramp before he managed to get his feet in front of him and lock himself into a controlled slide. As he reached the bottom of the balcony and was about to slide off into nothingness, he spotted the charred end of a broken floor joist. Screaming, he threw himself at the joist, grabbing onto it and stopping his fall, only to have it begin to swing downward a moment later, the strained fibers of the wood cracking and snapping as it did. Clinging to the burnt end for dear life, Nate swung with the joist as it passed through perpendicular with the floor above before it finally gave out, flinging him forward into the swirling smoke. He hit the floor of a mostly-destroyed hallway and tumbled against the wall, the joist flipping around and striking his shoulder before tumbling into the mess below. Nate cried out in pain and put a hand to his shoulder, feeling where the rough wood had torn his suit jacket and left a scrape that was now bleeding freely. He grunted, but with no time to think about personal injury, he hauled himself to his feet and took in his new surroundings.

To one side, the hall had collapsed along with the floor above, while twenty or so feet the other way the flames were so thick Nate knew he'd never get through. He wiped away some of the perspiration that was running in streams down his face and then set eyes on the one obvious way to keep moving- the doors to the elevator that was between him and the fire. "What's the first thing you never do when a building's on fire?" he said to himself as he pushed the button to call the car. "Oh yeah- ride the elevator." The doors opened and Nate stepped in, feeling very much like he was stepping into one of those magic boxes where someone comes and saws you in half, only minus the smoke and mirrors stuff to make it safe. "Going UP!" he said with as much bravado as he could muster. He watched as he passed the floors one by one, his heart pounding in his ears and his stomach feeling like he might vomit considering the very high possibility of the elevator's mechanics malfunctioning at any moment and effectively entrapping him in a little cube inside a veritable inferno. Just as the light dinged for the seventh floor and Nate was starting to feel like he might actually have no problems, the lights in the elevator went out, along with all power, and the car lurched to a stop. Moments later, a dim, battery powered emergency light kicked on, affording just enough light for him to see. Nate's fears gripped him like a strong man, threatening to strangle the life out of him.

"Great, just great," he said bitterly. "This far, just to die in an elevator." He huffed in exasperation. "Stupid, stupid, stupid." Suddenly he caught himself. "No! I can't give up. I've gotta get out of here." In the token light of the emergency battery pack, he examined the ceiling of the elevator car, giving one of the shiny stainless panels a shove to see if he could displace it. He felt no give, but refused to quit. Taking off his suit jacket, he balled it around his fist, gritted his teeth, and punched the edge of the panel as hard as he could. The feeling of his hand colliding with merciless steel sent waves of pain up his arm, and he shook the affected hand vigorously as he sucked air through his teeth. Then, steeling himself for the impact, he punched it again, and again, and again.

Finally the panel began to bend upwards, and, slipping his hands into the resulting gap, Nate pried on it with all his strength until he had gained enough room to squeeze through. He paused just long enough to slip his jacket back on before squeezing through into the small space between the inner ceiling and the outside of the elevator. Cramming himself into the extremely claustrophobic space required folding nearly in half, and Nate grunted as he drew his legs up, pushing himself back as far as he could. In the barely-existent light bleeding through from below, he could see cables and wires snaking this way and that, feeding the elevator's various electrical components. Contorting his body so that he could stretch one hand out, he began to feel along the outer roof of the car until he found what he was looking for. His hand closed around the small handle and he twisted it, releasing the service hatch to the outside.

He emerged onto the top of the car, grateful to be out of the cramped crawl space in the ceiling, and was met by the near pitch-darkness of the elevator shaft. He knew that the roof of the building was not far above him, but there was not even enough light to see that short distance. In fact, the only light at all was a thin, vertical line that shone through the crack between the doors to the eighth floor, the floor of which was at about the height of Nate's chest. He took a step toward it and his foot kicked something metallic, the resulting clatter was startling in the silent darkness in which he found himself. "No way," he said, crouching down to examine the object. "A toolbox! It must have accidentally been left up here by the last person to service this thing." Blessing his unexpected stroke of luck, he rummaged through the contents of the box and presently found a crowbar, then stood and jammed the tip of it into the little seam of light in front of him. Using all his strength, he pried the doors apart, managing to get about a twelve inch gap before he lost his purchase. He tossed the crowbar aside and slipped through the doors with some difficulty- he had to exhale completely to squeeze through- and found himself finally on the eighth floor.

The heat that met him was intense, a searing wall of flame that consumed everything in its path. Putting a hand up to shield his face and coughing from the thick smoke that circled around him, he briefly wondered if he was too late. His heart sank as he peered into the angry fire, hungrily devouring what was left of the structure, but as he looked he became aware of a noise. It was barely audible over the roar of the inferno, but it was there- a quiet but high-pitched wailing. Nate opened his mouth to call out, but his throat felt like sandpaper. He coughed again, then yelled out in a hoarse rasp, "Hey! I'm here! I'm here to help!" He coughed again as he staggered through the unfathomable heat. "Where are you?"

The crying momentarily got louder as the child sobbed, and then cried out, "Mama! Mama, please!"

"I'm gonna get you out of here!" Nate shouted, spinning in circles as he desperately tried to locate the child. "I'm gonna get you, just- just tell me where you're at!"

A burning beam dropped out of the ceiling, crashing through the severely weakened floor in a cloud of sparks and splinters. The child sobbed loudly again, and Nate finally spotted them, curled up in the fetal position in one corner of a room, the walls of which had mostly disintegrated as the flames overtook it. Nate growled as he realized that there was no way into the room except to go right through the fire. "I'm coming!" he called out reassuringly as he backed up a couple steps, then ran and hurled himself through the flames.

He staggered forward a few steps as he landed in the room, but caught his balance before he fell. Hearing the noise, the child looked up at him in wonder, as if he was an angel that had suddenly appeared from heaven to save them. It was a little girl, her dark hair messy and matted across her face from sweat and tears, her chocolatey eyes glistening from crying, and her breath coming in erratic gasps, choked with fear. For a moment Nate just looked at her, unable to break his gaze away from the innocent life that had almost been ended there, all alone on the top floor of a burning hotel, but then the girl spoke. "Who are you?" she asked, her voice small but full of wonder, and carrying a British accent.

"Uh," in the moment, Nathan found himself fumbling for his own name, "You can call me Nate." Another crash came behind them, and his mind flipped back to the task at hand. "Come on," he said, "I'm going to get you out of here!"

Lifting the small girl with one arm, he turned and began to make his way back. How they would make it back, though, he didn't know. As they fought against the smoke and the scorching heat, a section of the roof suddenly collapsed, void of its support, and a huge chunk of concrete swung down, punching a hole in the floor below. The girl screamed and Nate squeezed his eyes shut, shielding them both with his arms as a spray of rubble and sparks flew at them. Opening his eyes again, Nate saw that the concrete hung ludicrously suspended by a few pieces of rebar and an I-beam that was bent and sagging pathetically under the strain, swaying back and forth as it threatened to fall at any moment. Seeing an opportunity, he quickly slung the girl around onto his back, telling her to hang on to his shoulders, and then ran and jumped onto the precarious chunk of the roof. The movement caused it to sway more, but he quickly found his footing and then scampered up the side, using the irregular broken edge for handholds. Just as he was about to reach the top he felt the piece of concrete begin to fall, and he lunged for the roof, grabbing a piece of rebar that was sticking out from the edge of the hole. The thin metal bar sagged under his weight, but he quickly grabbed the edge of the concrete and pulled himself and the girl up onto the roof.

Nate and the girl both choked and coughed as they breathed deep lungfuls of the first fresh air either of them had tasted for the last half hour or so. Gasping to fill his sorely deprived lungs, Nate quickly oriented himself and developed a plan. He knew they didn't have much time before the rest of the roof collapsed. The occasional mist of water drifting overhead informed him that the firefighters were doing the best they could to extinguish the hungry flames, but it was clear that the building was a loss. Pulling the girl back around in front of him, he shouted, "Hang on," then began running toward the edge of the roof. As he leaped up onto the waist-high stucco wall around the perimeter of the roof, he wrapped his arms tightly around the child in his arms and then jumped, clearing the narrow gap to the next rooftop over. The jump would normally have been easy, but with the added weight of the girl he found himself having to roll into the landing, and he carefully cradled her as he did so to keep from hurting her. He did the same to get to the next building, and only then did he finally allow himself to slow down, feeling like they were well and truly out of harm's way. He located a metal fire escape on the side of the building they were now on and carried the girl down the stairs to the ground, then back towards where the crowds were gathered near the hotel.

They quickly found the girl's mother standing with Elena and Sully at the edge of the crowd, all three of them looking anxiously at the burning hotel with despair creeping up on their countenances. Upon seeing them, the girl squealed with joy, startling her mother, and nearly wrenched herself from Nate's arms. He gently set the child down on the pavement, and she ran as her mother called out to her, disbelief and wonder evident on her face. Nate smiled as he watched the small child fall into her mother's arms, both of them shedding tears of joy at their being reunited, as well as a few tears of grief at what was nearly a great loss.

"Nate!" He turned to see Elena running to him and throwing her arms around his neck. As she buried her face in his shoulder, she murmured, "Nate, I was so worried about you."

"I know, Elena," he said, gently running his hand through her hair. "I know." As he held his wife close, he watched the firemen's hoses blast into the building, sending up great clouds of smoke as they battled to subdue the flames.

Elena looked at him with watery eyes, taking a step back with her hands still on his shoulders. "Will you ever get a break from being the hero?" she asked, her voice shaky. "You're gonna give me a goddamn heart attack."

"When people like them are in danger?" Nate said, nodding towards the mother and daughter still tightly hugging each other a short distance away and giving his wife a wry smile. "'Fraid not, 'Lena."

She smiled wanly back at him as the girl and her mother came over to them, the mother thanking Nate profusely as she continued to hold her daughter close. "Thank you so much!" the woman said in a voice cracked with emotion. "You saved my little girl! How can I ever repay you?"

Nate held up a hand to stop her. "Don't worry about it," he said softly. "I'm just trying to help."

The woman continued to thank him fervently until Nate managed to find a graceful way to duck out. As the three treasure hunters began walking away from the crowd, Sully spoke for the first time since Nate had gotten back. "You are one crazy son-of-a-bitch, kid," he growled.

Nate chuckled. "It takes one to know one."

Walking beside them, Elena had seemingly recovered from her moment of weakness and said with a frown, "So I take it that deal didn't go anything like you thought it was going to."

"No," Nate said, glancing over his shoulder at the burning hotel. "But I guess it could have gone worse," he shrugged.

"Liars go to hell, Nate," was all Sully said in reply as he walked past him to get to the car.

The trio had gotten some curious looks on their way back into the hotel they were staying in, and it took Nate a minute to figure out why. In fact, it was only in the mirror inside the elevator that he finally caught a glimpse of himself and his companions and realized what a spectacle they were. His hair was quite disheveled and his face covered in soot, making a comical contrast to his gray suit, which itself was a little worse for wear. The shoulder of the jacket had been torn open and showed some blood from a scrape on Nate's shoulder, and the rest of his suit was generally stained with dirt, soot, and alcohol. Elena's hair was also decidedly less orderly than when she'd left the hotel that morning, several stray strands poking out here and there, and the bottom of her dress had been ripped in a couple of places, making an already flattering garment borderline scandalous. Sully had come out the best of the three, but even he didn't look like the result of a typical day at the office, what with his dress shirt halfway untucked from his pants and his jacket hanging a little skewed. Nate sighed and looked forward to getting a shower.

In the corridor they parted ways, Sully breaking off to go to his room a couple doors down from Nate and Elena's, while Nate wearily removed the key card from his wallet and swiped it in their door, then pushed it open.

As the couple stepped in, their jaws fell open.

Dragged halfway off the frame, the queen-sized mattress lay at an angle with one corner sticking up in the air, the sheets ripped back and pillows tossed carelessly on the floor. Next to the bed sat the drawer from the night stand, yanked from its place and then discarded, and a similar treatment had been given to the entertainment center. Their luggage, sitting by itself in the corner and yet unpacked when they had left the hotel that morning, had been unzipped and plundered, the contents strewn about the floor in a four foot radius around the bags.

Nate's mouth formed a tight line while Elena gasped in disbelief, and he stormed over to their suitcases, knelt down, and began to pick through the clothes. "Who did this? What were they looking for?" he heard his wife ask.

"Garnier," he said grimly, setting aside one of his shirts. Having confirmed what he already knew would be true, he shoved the bag away from himself and placed his hands on his knees. "And he was looking for the astrolabe."

Elena looked at him questioningly. "The one from Delphi?"

He nodded. "It's gone."

Shaking her head, Elena asked softly, "But why?"

Nate sighed, leaning back on his hands as he tried to channel his swirling thoughts. "That journal we stole for Garnier- it was Sir Isaac Newton's. It details Newton's works in the field of alchemy, as well as a lead he may have had in finding Atlantis. But whatever Newton thought might be in Atlantis was something he seemed to think should be handled with care, and not fall into the wrong hands." He met his wife's eyes, searching for understanding in their hazel depths. "That's why Sully and I are trying to stop him from getting it. Once we found out that Garnier couldn't be trusted any further than you could see him, well..." Nate trailed off.

"Now you and Sully feel responsible to stop him," Elena concluded, and Nate nodded. Elena stared at him, her face a mask of sober concern, her lips parted slightly. "So that's why all of that went south back there," she sighed.

She looked troubled, and Nate wondered what she was thinking. But before he could ask, a sharp knock came at the door, and he turned. Glancing back at his wife to convey a silent warning, Nate picked up his gun from the floor, loaded a clip, and stood up. Pulling the slide back as he crossed the room, he slowly released it so as not to make any noise and then pressed his eye up to the peephole in the door. Sully's unmistakable mustache greeted him on the other side, and Nate exhaled deeply. His shoulders visibly relaxed as he opened the door, stepping aside as Sully entered the room.

Sully raised his eyebrows on seeing the state of their room, and he commented in a tone of mirthless sarcasm, "I see you got the same crappy housekeeping I did."

"Yours too, huh?" Nate asked.

"Yeah," Sully said dryly. "It was a real doozy of a job on mine. Cabinets all hanging open, lid off the toilet tank, TV on the floor, you name it."

Nate scoffed, shoving his gun into the waistband of his pants. "They probably would've given us the same treatment except that I think they found what they were looking for and then bailed." Turning to look at Sullivan, he explained, "The astrolabe's gone."

Sully shook his head and clucked his tongue. "Sonnuvva-," he muttered. "What now?"

Turning to look at Elena, Nate voiced his plan. "We head to Reykjavik. Get the first flight we can, find Garnier, and take back what's ours."

It was Elena's turn to scoff now. "And how do you plan to do that?" she challenged. "Reykjavik's not exactly the smallest town in Iceland, and it's not like he's going to advertise where he's going. He knows your pissed off at him, and he's going to be making every effort to keep you off his trail."

"She's right," Sully agreed. "We're going to have to increase our chances of success if we're going to keep up with him."

Nate's expression changed to a frown as he accepted their logic, but only for a moment, before his eyes brightened again as he looked at Sully. "Well then," he said with a smile, "we've got to make sure we're in the airport to welcome him when he gets there."

Sully's eyes locked onto Nate's, contemplating his words, then his mustache twitched as one corner of his mouth turned up in a lopsided smile. "Iceland it is."

Sully soon headed back to his room to pack, leaving Nate and Elena to sort through the wreckage of their room. As Nate turned to find a new set of clothes, Elena caught his arm and turned him to face her. "Nate," she said, a look of apprehension on her face.

Nate raised his eyebrows. "Yeah?" he cheerfully replied.

Elena's eyes darkened. "It's just- I don't know. It feels like we're getting pretty far into this. And, in just a little more than a week it's... you know..."

Nate's eyes widened with understanding. "Right." He started to say more, but at the same time Elena began backpedaling, and the two found themselves talking over each other as each tried to explain their own thoughts. Eventually Nate shut up and gave his wife space to finish talking.

"It's just, you know. I mean, I just wonder... I mean does it have to... I don't know!" She huffed and threw her hands up. "It's just selfish probably."

"Elena," Nate chuckled, holding a hand up to stop her rambling. "We'll be back in plenty of time. I promise." Placing a hand on her shoulder, he added, "I owe it to you."

She looked at him, eyes sad, but managed a weak smile. "'Kay", she said sweetly.

As she walked into the bathroom and shut the door, Nate picked up his shoulder holsters and inspected them before draping them over the back of the couch, then released the clip from his gun and tossed it into his bag along with the empty weapon. The shower turned on, and Nate looked over at the bathroom door, frowning slightly as a dark cloud passed through his mind. Then he shook his head and knelt down to begin repacking.

Chapter Text

Crowds spilled from the end of the gangway into Keflavik International Airport, joining the general bustle of the airport as a woman's voice came over the airport's intercom system, announcing in Icelandic the boarding of a plane at the next gate over. From the group of arrivals a man with heavily gelled brown hair and a gray suit split off to the side, striding with great purpose down the corridor toward the baggage claim. His spit-shined black oxfords clicked on the polished floor of the terminal with every confident stride that he took, passing a man sitting on a bench and reading a newspaper with not a second thought.

Though the man in the suit had not noticed him, the man reading had certainly noticed the man in the suit, and he lowered the newspaper once he was past.

"I've got him," Nate said quietly, setting the paper aside and rising to follow. "Following to the baggage claim now."

"Just be careful, kid," Sully's voice came through the earpiece Nate wore. "Keep your head down, and don't let him get away from you."

"Roger that," Nate smirked, stuffing his hands in the pockets of his lightweight, brown ochre jacket. As he walked he scanned the shops and restaurants he passed, pretending to be just another traveler moseying through the airport, while keeping a watch on Garnier out of the corner of his eye. The Frenchman was moving with great deliberation, forcing Nate to eventually abandon his casual pace just to keep up, but Nate still did his best to avoid making it obvious he was tailing the scientist.

Getting the logistics worked out to beat Garnier to Reykjavik had been tricky, and they had had to rely heavily on Elena's press status and knack for hacking. Once she had nailed down which flight the Frenchman was on and it's arrival time at Keflavik, Sully had loaded them all in his plane and gunned it to the north. Nate had spent most of the trip snacking on a bag of stale caramel corn and bitching about the "criminally uncomfortable seats", until finally Sully had threatened to eject him.

"Don't make me use this," he had growled, pointing at a button labeled in red on the instrument panel.

Nate eyed it suspiciously, then looked at Sully. "It's fake- right?" His confidence faltered. "I mean, you can buy those things online with a peel-and-stick back."

Sully raised an eyebrow at him, his finger still hovering over the button, and his mustache twitched as his lips curled into a smirk.

A short staring contest ensued, until Nate frowned and slumped in his seat, crossing his arms on his chest. "Fine," he mumbled darkly.

They had arrived in Reykjavik a couple of hours before Garnier was scheduled to land, giving them just barely enough time to secure a rental car and drive the half hour or so out of the city to the international airport.

At the baggage claim, Nate followed Sully's advice, keeping his head down and making sure to keep a carousel between him and Garnier, glancing up every now and then to make sure he didn't slip out unnoticed. As he shoved a couple backpacks around, pretending to look for his own bag, he glimpsed the unmistakably styled mop of hair over the top of the carousel, and saw that Garnier was turning to leave. Quickly tossing the backpack aside, Nate fell in step about twenty feet behind the thin scientist, who was now towing a black hard-shell suitcase. He noticed the signs as they walked, and quietly spoke to Sully. "Okay. He's heading for the car rental. I'll meet you there."

"One stylish ride to the car rental, coming right up."

Nate smiled wryly and muttered out of the corner of his mouth, "Don't flatter yourself, Sully, you know style was never your strong point."

"What's that supposed to mean?"

As Garnier disappeared into Go Iceland rentals, Nate strode into the parking lot, quickly spotting their black Dacia Duster circling towards him. He jokingly stuck out his thumb as Sully rolled to a stop alongside him, then he jumped into the passenger's seat.

"What's not stylish about this, Nate?" Sully prodded as he chewed on the end of a cigar. He shifted into second as he pulled the car out of the parking lot and onto the road.

Nate stared at him, smiling mischievously. "You know you're not supposed to smoke in this, right?"

"All too well," Sully replied. "That's why it's not lit, genius." He parked the car a short distance away on the side of the road and laced his fingers together behind his head. "Now, we wait."

"Hand me those binoculars, Elena," Nate said, turning to his wife in the backseat.

Elena fished the them out of a duffel that sat on the seat next to her and handed them to Nate.

As Nate looked intently through the binoculars at the entrance to Go Iceland car rentals, Sully gibed him. "You know that's not exactly inconspicuous?"

Nate lowered the binoculars and looked at him. "So... tell me if somebody's coming."

It was only a couple minutes later that Nate spotted Garnier come out of the building and climb into a red Ford Fiesta. He watched as the small car pulled out and headed for the exit of the parking lot.

"I got him," Nate said, tossing the binoculars onto the back seat. He pointed out the car as it left the lot, and Sully gently put their Duster in gear and rolled slowly down the street, waiting for Garnier put a little distance between them before falling in behind. They followed him north into the city, staying several car lengths behind him and keeping a vehicle between whenever possible. If Garnier had spotted them, he wasn't letting on.

As they drove through Reykjavik, passing tightly packed houses in bright pastel colors, Nate noticed a group of people standing outside an official-looking building, holding signs and banners. They were chanting something, but without speaking Icelandic, it was hard for him to know what.

"What's up with them?" he asked curiously.

Craning her neck to see over Nate, Elena answered, "There's been a major financial crisis going on here. It's all over the news- you know, banks crashing, national debt skyrocketing, that kind of thing?" She looked at Nate before she continued. "People are protesting in huge numbers, calling for the resignation of members of the government. It's big."

Nate nodded, watching the crowd of picketers out the back window. "I guess so."

Smiling smugly, Elena commented, "You would probably know all about it if you put some effort into staying current with anything going on in the world, instead of just what happened in it four hundred years ago."

Sully watched as a woman wearing a sign shoved a policeman who was trying to subdue the protesters. "Then again, maybe we're the smart ones," he said.

Garnier turned down an alley, and Sully slowed to try to see where he was headed. "Looks like our mad scientist got where he's trying to go," Elena said.

"Do you think it's a trap?" Sully asked. "Could he have spotted us?"

"I dunno," Nate said, and reached into the backseat to grab the duffel bag. He unzipped the main pocket and pulled out his leather shoulder holsters. "Only one way to find out." Shedding his jacket, he donned his holsters over his navy blue Henley.

"What are you doing?" Elena asked indignantly. "You'll stick out like a sore thumb wearing those!"

Nate stared at her. "What? You don't think people like them?" She huffed, and Nate turned his attention to Sully, "Find a place to park nearby. I'll scope it out and see what's up."

Stepping out of the car, he swung the door closed behind him and turned to face the narrow alley that Garnier had just turned into. As the Dacia pulled away, Nate walked carefully forward, wary of making any noise in case Garnier was just around the corner. Once off the street, he pulled out his gun and crept up to the corner of the nearest house. Peering stealthily around the corner, Nate tensed.

Garnier's bright red rental car sat in a small lot in between two of the houses, and at the rear of another house on the next block. Weeds grew from cracks in the dusty pavement, and a low wooden fence bordered the lawn of the house that faced the block over, with the Ford parked just in front of the gate. The grass was a little too high to give the impression that the house was anyone's full time residence, and the shrubs had begun to encroach on the walk that led to the back door. Nate's gaze wandered up the weathered clapboard siding with its peeling paint until it came to rest on a small balcony off the second floor of the visible side of the house. "That's worth a shot," he mumbled to himself.

Giving a look up the side of the house he was hiding against, he quickly planned out a route to the roof. He climbed up onto a planter box then jumped to an iron grate covering the second floor window, hoping all the while that he wouldn't be spotted from the street, and that no one was inside the house. From the grate, he flung himself up to catch the gutter, then hoisted his body up and rolled over onto the clay tiled roof. Standing, he cautiously approached the edge.

From here it was an easy jump to the neighboring balcony, maybe ten feet across and almost as many down. Breathing deep, Nate pushed off and landed on the balcony, bending his knees as he landed to help absorb the impact. Not wanting to accidentally roll and smash into the house, he allowed his body to drop into a squat, reaching out with one hand to steady himself as he broke his fall, but one knee came down a little too far and cracked painfully on the concrete. Nate sucked air through his teeth and gave a silent grunt against the pain. He leaped to his feet and pressed himself against the wall to the side of the door, rubbing his knee and waiting to see if anyone would come out of the house to investigate. After a minute or so of no one appearing he decided the coast must be clear, and quickly knelt down in front of the glass door and set to work picking the lock. Another minute and the lock was sprung, and Nate stepped inside, his gun drawn.

He found himself in a dusty bedroom with a steep A-framed ceiling, vacant except for a few dusty cardboard boxes crammed with paper over in the corner. The door was cracked, and he could hear voices drifting in from the spaces beyond. Silently, Nate tiptoed over to the door and out into a hallway that was open on one side onto a vaulted dining room on the first floor. Crouching low behind the railing, Nate looked over at the small gathering of people below.

"...as I said, there is plenty to merit your interest in this endeavor." Garnier was saying as he stood at one end of a worn oak table that glowed with a buttery patina from many years of use. "I did not come empty handed."

The man at the other end of the table was a striking character: not tall, but thickly built, with legs like tree trunks and bare arms that were dense with muscle. His face was partially obscured by a full, red beard, but Nate could see that one of his eyes looked funny, like maybe it had been injured at some point. A closely-cut mop of curly red hair graced the man's head. As the character leaned one forearm on the table, muscles rippled across his arms and chest, seeming about ready to burst the light blue sleeveless shirt and leather vest he wore. His mouth opened and he spoke in a voice like a lion, "Well? Don't keep me waiting! We haven't got all day, after all." His one uninjured eye gleamed with a lively spark.

"Of course." Garnier unzipped his suitcase and withdrew the astrolabe and the journal, setting both items on the table. "This, my dear Floki," the Frenchman said with ceremony, indicating the astrolabe, "is the key to Atlantis. And this-" motioning to the journal, "will tell us how to get there."

The man called Floki picked up the astrolabe with a gentleness that seemed like it was probably foreign to his powerful arms. As he held it aloft, admiring its composition in the light streaming through the window, the several men lounging around his end of the table all sat a little straighter to see the object as well. Nate noticed they were all in casual but rugged clothes, and each was toting a handgun at the hip.

"Ha!" Floki barked out a laugh. Then he began to chuckle, softly at first, but gradually increasing in volume and earnestness until he was outright howling. Nate's brows scrunched in confusion, but the big Scandinavian ended his laughing fit suddenly by forcefully placing the astrolabe down, earning a flinch from Garnier at the sound of the priceless artifact banging on the table hard enough to leave an impression in the wood. Floki leaned forward, palms flat on the table, and said in a voice sort of like a whisper and sort of like a low growl, "It looks about as much like a key as it looks like a pissing dog." His mouth turned up in a wide grin and he laughed once more. "I can only hope that that book will explain all of this."

"You won't be disappointed," Garnier said stiffly.

Floki grinned again and stood up, brushing his hands together. "I hope not, my diminutive friend." Nate almost laughed himself as he saw the French scientist bristle at the condescending address. Gesturing to the window, Floki continued as he began to pace, "You see those people out there? Idiots. All of them." Nate could not see the people out there, but guessed he was talking about the protesters on the streets. "They think they will make a difference with their ridiculous cardboard signs and marching around in the street. Me?" He pointed to himself, raising his eyebrows. "I know I will make a difference. If this is really what you think it is, the amount of treasure will be enough to not only stabilize my country's economy again, but to make it the most prosperous country on the whole wide world!" The twinkle had come back to his eye with a vengeance. "My revolution will make Iceland a world power, with me as its leader!"

Garnier shifted his weight from one foot to the other, evidently either bored or uncomfortable with Floki's monologuing. The redhead seemed to notice, as he turned to his smaller colleague with a smile.

"Oh. And, you know, I'll give you your due credit." He slapped the Frenchman on the shoulder a little harder than he probably appreciated.

Mathis flinched, then spoke in a low voice, "Just one thing, Floki,"

Floki raised one eyebrow, and gave an exaggerated bow. "Speak! Now! Or forever hold your peace."

Doing his best to be undaunted by the Scandinavian's antics, Garnier continued, "How many men can you bring to this?"

"Fifty, at my disposal," Floki said without hesitation.

Garnier frowned. "Is that all?"

Floki seemed amused by his question. "Did you require more?" he asked.

The scientist again shifted uncomfortably. "Not long ago, Drake single-handedly stopped an entire army that was on the hunt for Shambala. By comparison, fifty is a token force."

"It is not always size that matters," the redheaded brute grumbled in reply. "I would think someone of your stature would know that by now." A smile spread across his face as he watched the Frenchman's expression change to one of seething anger, then he turned and walked out of Nate's line of sight. When he reappeared he had a rocket launcher slung over his shoulder. "Have a little faith, my good friend," Floki concluded. "Our resources will surprise you."

Nate had just decided that he had better make his move soon when he suddenly felt the muzzle of a gun press into the back of his head, and he inwardly chided himself for getting too wrapped up in the scene before him and neglecting to watch his own back. Slowly, he lifted his hands, allowing his gun to dangle from the tip of one finger. After being relieved of his weapon, he was ordered onto his feet and led down a set of stairs to the first floor, where he was roughly shoved through a door and into the dining room. Everyone in the room turned to look as he came staggering in with the goon just behind him, still stabbing the end of his gun into the back of Nate's neck. As Nate caught his balance, he saw Garnier take a step backward, away from him, and slip Newton's journal into his pocket protectively.

"Caught a spy," the goon holding him at gunpoint declared. "He was creepin' around up on the balcony and listening in on your conversation."

Nate grimaced and held up his hands, arms bent at right angles. The man Floki looked at him, and then at his French accomplice. "Is this him?" he growled.

Garnier nodded his affirmation.

Floki grinned and walked toward Nate with slow, measured strides, his gait like the confident stalking of a jungle cat. Each carefully placed, heavy footfall seemed to make the whole house creak, and as he moved closer, Nate took in the ugly scar that had permanently closed his right eye, the hard, square jawline, and the tattoos that swelled on his bulging biceps as the man crossed his arms. "Nathan...Drake." He said slowly, shaking his head as if in cheerful disbelief, and then declared dramatically in his feral roar, "In the flesh!"

For a moment he just stared at Nate, smiling, and Nate returned his gaze with a level and unflinching glare. Then the big redhead abruptly shuffled his feet, shifting into a fighting stance, and threw a punch at Nate's midsection. Nate instinctively blocked the hit, raising his fists to meet any further attacks, but to his surprise, Floki just guffawed loudly in his face and slapped his shoulder.

"I just had to see if you were worth your reputation!" he shouted. "Turn's out you are! That was just a little bit of fun." The Scandinavian continued to chuckle, placing his hands on his hips, and even Nate laughed a little in spite of himself, partly from nervousness and partly from relief. Then, just as quick as the first time, Floki suddenly swung a powerful uppercut right into Nate's gut, catching him by surprise and causing him to double over in pain. "That one was for real," Floki added nonchalantly.

Nate clutched at his stomach and choked, still bent double and with the wind thoroughly knocked out of him. "Huh!- yep- I noticed," he wheezed, then coughed raggedly. Wiping his mouth with the back of his hand, Nate stood up straight and looked his opponent in the eye again, his belly still aching from the punch. "C'mon. 'Sthat all you got?"

Floki regarded him curiously. "What brings you here, to my doorstep?"

Nate offered a dry chuckle. "Oh, you know, just came to take back what belongs to me."

"...that you stole just a few days ago," the redheaded beast said as an addendum.

Nate shrugged. "Welcome to the business. We do that kind of thing a lot."

Before anyone else could respond, an explosion rattled the timbers of the ramshackle house, causing everyone to take cover in reflex. Nate threw his hands over his head and glanced out the window, where he could see an overturned car that was rocking from the blast, flames leaping from its shell. It seemed the protests were turning into a riot.

"Sons of bitches!" Floki roared as he took in the sight just outside of his house.

Nate realized this was his chance and swiped the astrolabe from the table before turning and dispatching the thug who had had him at gunpoint with an elbow to the temple. The crack of bone on bone seemed to jolt the stunned occupants of the room back to their senses, and Garnier lunged at Nate, trying to reclaim the astrolabe or at least restrain him from escaping. Nate just rammed him up against a door frame, scraping the scientist off onto the hardwood floor, and ran for the closest window.

"Get him!" Floki bellowed.

But Nate was already flying through the air as the first bullets began to thud into the woodwork around him. Tucking his chin and lifting his shoulder to break the glass, he collided with the windowpane as the thugs shouted irately behind him.

Chapter Text

November 10, 2009

Nate and Elena's apartment:

It was a cool night, about six months after Nate and Elena had gotten married and about three weeks after Nate and Sully had agreed to start doing the more "dangerous jobs" again. Elena lay on her back on the couch, feet propped up on the backrest and head dangling upside-down off the edge as she watched her husband getting dressed in the middle of their living room of their modest house near the ocean. It had been hard for her ever since he had started taking on the more high-risk jobs again, but she tried to accept it as just his lot in life- and by default, her's as well. She thought back to their wedding. Surely she had known what kind of person he was as she said "I do" that day, and, in a way, she did love him for it - the saving people, that is. But there might have been some part of her- alright, no bull, there was some part of her- that thought he might change after they got married. Do something less dangerous, and less likely to leave her widowed at a young age. Clearly it was not to be.

Nevertheless, something had her in reflective mood that night, and her eyes followed his every movement as if viewing him for the first time: The way his fingers fastened the brass button on his well-worn khakis or deftly threaded his belt, securing it with the latest incarnation of large, Western belt buckle. The way the hard muscles of his back flexed and rippled as he pulled a faded Henley over his head, doing only the bottom two buttons while neglecting the top two, or the way he lowered his large frame onto the easy chair across from her and pulled on his Chelsea-style boots. She watched all these things in something similar to a meditative spell, his deliberate, methodical movements giving her a kind of sense of security. It was only after he pulled his pant cuff down over his left boot and straightened up that he seemed to notice her watching him and he spoke, breaking her out of her trance.

"Like what you see?"

Not missing a beat, Elena smirked at him and replied, "Very much, thanks for asking."

Nate leaned back in the chair, the dingy yellow fabric forming crease lines around him where his body sank into the cushion and his hands gripped the arm rests. "Do I look as good upside-down as I do right side up?"

Elena pursed her lips, considering for a moment. "Hmmm. Better, actually."

Nate clapped a hand to the side of his face, feigning shock and offense. "I'm crushed! Or is this just some new kink of yours?"

Throwing her head to the side as much as her position would allow, Elena rolled her eyes and groaned in response. "Puh-LEASE. Do you ever think about anything else?"

"Of course," he said, standing up and strutting over to her. "I think about history...and money...and occasionally even dinner." Squatting down so he could see nearly eye-to-eye with her, he continued, "Oh and did I mention money? I think about that, too."

Elena hummed and said with a chuckle, "I think you got that one already."

Nate reached out and ran the back of his index finger along Elena's soft cheek, brushing a strand of dirty blonde hair behind her ear. "From time to time, I also think about how fortunate I am to have the amazing wife I do."

Elena frowned playfully. "Mmm, flattery."

"Honesty."

"Trickery," Elena accused.

"Modesty," Nate rebutted. "You are amazing, Elena. You always will be." He leaned forward and kissed her on her inverted lips. "But," he added with a smile, "you'd better change your position before all the blood goes to your head."

She grinned mischievously and glanced upward- or what was really downward- from Nate's face to his midsection, positioned very close to her face. "That's funny," she said wryly, "I was just about to tell you the same thing."

Nate chuckled and lightly punched her arm. "Now whose mind is in the gutter?"

"I guess I've been hanging around you too long," she smiled.

He laughed and kissed her again before standing and walking over to the coat rack in the corner. Elena turned over and sat up as he lifted his shoulder holsters from the hook and began to slide his arms into the straps. "You're not actually going to need that, right?" she asked.

He paused, thumb hooked under the left shoulder strap as he adjusted his holsters, and looked at her curiously. "I mean, it should be a pretty safe job, but you never know. Better safe than sorry."

"No psychopaths with grandiose schemes to take over the world?" she pried.

Smiling, he said, "No, not this time."

"There had better not be," Elena sulked. Smiling ruefully, she added, "Just be careful. I plan to have you alive tomorrow."

"Alright," he said, leaning in and kissing the top of her head. "Sounds like fun."

Shards of glass exploded outward into the alley, littering the pavement and spreading out in a halo from the side of the house. Nate came right behind it, flying headfirst through the air, his bent arms absorbing the initial impact as he came in contact with the ground and rolled over his right shoulder, his booted feet kicking over a can of foul-smelling garbage as his body splayed out across the gritty blacktop. He immediately picked himself up out of the puddle he had landed in and sprinted down the alley as gunshots rang out behind him, shredding wooden clapboards and chipping brick. Clutching the astrolabe in one hand and fervently wishing he was holding a gun in the other, he broke out onto the main street and froze.

Reykjavik was in an outright upheaval, as angry citizens swarmed over the streets, shouting and waving signs, banners, and- pots and pans? Nate shook his head at that last one, but didn't have time to consider it at all. Malatov cocktails flew through the air, shattering and spraying flaming liquid across storefronts, while groups of enraged vandals overturned parked cars and lit them on fire. Nate dodged behind a dumpster and spoke urgently into his earpiece.

"Sully? Hey Sully! Any time that you wanted to tell me where the hell you're at, I'd be just thrilled. Things are getting pretty hot over here."

"Do I detect a hint of impatience?"

"Sully..." Nate warned.

"We would've parked closer, but some kid started tryin' to flip the car over and light it on fire, so-"

"What?" Nate hissed as the angry shouts of Floki's men got closer.

"Oh, yeah. He seemed like a nice guy and all- you know, once you get past the pyromaniac tendencies," Sully rambled. "But all that aside, we're-"

"Sully!" Nate was bordering on panicked as he whisper-shouted into his earpiece. "Where the hell are you?"

"Okay, okay! We're over by the fountain- the one with the guy on a horse- that we saw on the way in. There, you happy?" Sully drawled.

"Ecstatic," Nate said dryly, his mind whirling back through his memories of the ride until it landed on the fountain in question. "Okay," he said, risking a glance around the corner of the dumpster but immediately drawing back when he saw one of Floki's goons running by. "I think I remember that one. I'll be there in a few!"

"We'll be eagerly awaiting your arrival..." Sully droned sarcastically.

Nate spied a fire escape ladder on the building across the alley and decided the rooftops were his best shot of getting there. Taking another wary glance out at the street, he hooked a carabiner to one of the sturdy bronze axis lines of the astrolabe and then to his belt, breathed deep, and darted across the alley. He jumped the last few feet, his hands gripping the bottom rung of the ladder with a clang as the shouting grew more animated behind him.

"There he is!" came the voice one of the thugs.

Acting fast, Nate threw himself up with the considerable strength of his arms, grabbing three rungs up on the ladder just as bullets began to ping off the metal cage surrounding the fire escape. His feet scrabbling against the brick of the wall below until they found the first rung, Nate scrambled hastily up the ladder, knowing that it was only by sheer luck that he hadn't been shot yet, as the cage provided precious little coverage. At the top, he vaulted the last step to clear the edge of the roof, a bullet sending brick fragments spraying as he rolled clumsily. He was already running as he came out of his roll, knowing that he was only a few steps ahead of the people who were trying to kill him, and by the time he reached the other side, he could already hear their footsteps pounding the roof behind him. Leaping on to the short parapet at the edge of the roof, he had only a split second to assess the jump ahead of him before throwing himself into space, arms flailing, as gunfire split the air around him.

Not that he had any other options or anything, but the roof he found himself jumping to was far from ideal. A residential house, impossibly steep, A-frame roof made of clay tiles with a spread of solar panels, and a long way to the ground if he slid over the edge. Nate's face contorted in horror as he lost forward momentum and began falling toward the peak of the house.

"OH CRAP!" Nate screamed. He landed hard on one of the solar panels in the top row, his shoulder spiderwebbing it's surface with a thousand cracks. Tumbling once over, his legs swinging in a comical arc over him, he began sliding down the panels, pawing vainly at their slick surface for any kind of a hold. It was only at the bottom row of panels that he managed to get a grip on the aluminum track that housed them, the thin metal bending in his hands and shoes squeaking on glass as he caught himself. But his relief was short lived as a bullet punched a hole in the solar panel just above him, and then another came just at his right. "Ahhh, crapcrapcrapcrap..." he ranted crazily as he shimmied his way across the roof as more and more bullets rained down around him. "Hey! These things aren't cheap!" he shouted. Reaching the edge, he once again leaped off with scarcely a look at where he was going to land, and grabbed the gutter of the neighboring house.

After pulling himself up, he ran and jumped to the flat-roofed store top across the next alley, and continued running towards his destination. Just as he was starting to think he had lost Floki's men, he saw two of the plain clothes thugs appear seemingly from nowhere, one on the building to his right and one to his left, and each with guns trained on him. "Awww, shit!" he cursed, reaching the edge of the building and seeing nowhere to go. Hesitating only for a moment, he stepped off the edge just as he heard the gunshots go off.

His landing in the dumpster knocked the wind out of him, and he could feel something slimy under him, but he was alive, and still with no bullet holes in his body, and that was going to have to be enough. Grabbing the edges of the bin, he lifted himself to a sitting position to see out just as a familiar black car screeched to a stop beside him. The window of the Dacia rolled down, and Sully called out to him, "I've seen a lot of stuff go out with the trash, but this is definitely a first!"

"Just drive, Sully!" Nate yelled as he jumped out of the dumpster and into the passenger's seat. Tires squealed as Sully pegged the accelerator to the floor and bullets rained down on the pavement behind them. The car tore down the road, drifted around a corner, and was gone.

Floki stared at the broken window, his features an unreadable mask. Garnier stood to the side, also looking at the window, but concern clear on his face, Shifting from one leg to the other, he cleared his throat awkwardly.

The noise apparently reminded Floki of the Frenchman's existence, and he turned and looked skeptically at Garnier, glancing from his face to his feet. "Do you have to piss, or something?"

Garnier glared at him with contempt and a bit of seething rage, but replied. "No, thank you very much. I'm just hoping that your men can get that astrolabe back."

Floki turned back to the window in silence, then sighed in resignation, shrugging his broad shoulders. "They will get it." He said simply.

Frowning, Garnier decided to find the bright side and said, "No matter, we still have the journal." He slipped the book out of his pocket and waved it by his face.

The redheaded brute's head turned on a swivel to look at the journal. He blinked rapidly, then his eyes went wide and he stepped so close to the scientist that Garnier could feel his breath on his face. Wordlessly snatching the book out of Garnier's fingers, he jammed it up in the small amount of space between their faces, the cover facing toward the Frenchman.

"Wh-what?" Garnier choked, staring at the pink notebook with kittens on the front that looked like it came straight from a back-to-school sale. "Where- where's the journal?"

Floki chucked the notebook carelessly over his shoulder and snarled, "That Drake fellow. He picked your pocket." Stepping even closer to where their chests were nearly touching, Floki put his head right next to Garnier's, staring past him straight ahead as he sarcastically breathed, "I can tell it's going to be fun working with you," directly in the Frenchman's ear. Giving him a shove, Floki walked by and out the side door of the house, leaving the scientist to stew over his mistake. Garnier fumed and let out a low growl, then lifted his head toward heaven and screamed.

"DRAAAAKE!"

Nate rested one elbow on the round wooden table of room 224, drinking some bottled water he had gotten from the hotel vending machine and tossing the small plastic cap to himself. Across from him sat Sully and Elena, and in the center of the table was the small, leather-bound journal of Isaac Newton's.

No one was speaking. For the last several minutes, the only sound had been the steady tock, tock of the obnoxiously loud wall clock nearby. As Elena watched the bottle cap rise and fall for what might have been the hundredth time, Sully looked from her to Nate and finally decided he was done waiting. "C'mon, kid," he grumbled, "we all know you want to tell us all about what's in that little journal there."

Nate seemed to be caught off guard by this. Twisting back around to face the table squarely, he said sheepishly, "Oh, yeah. Sorry, I was just... thinking." Twisting the cap back on the bottle, he set it aside and grabbed the journal, opening it up to a page he had bookmarked. "So Newton definitely took some pretty extensive notes in here, and his take on the whole Atlantis thing is pretty interesting- all taken from writings of Plato and Aristotle that he turned up somewhere. According to this, Atlas was dethroned from being the king of Atlantis and the city was destroyed after the Titanomachy."

"The Titan- whatamy?" Sully interrupted.

"Titanomachy," Nate repeated. "The war that was fought between the Titans and the Olympians in Greek mythology. Atlas was a Titan. When the Titans lost the war, Zeus condemned Atlas to stand at the western edge of the earth and hold up the sky. It seems like that was also the point where Atlantis was destroyed- submerged beneath the sea, taking with it an unimaginable amount of wealth and highly advanced knowledge.

"Newton seems to have been particularly interested in Atlantis for possibly holding the secrets of the alchemical process- being able to turn base metals to gold, and also grant healing and even eternal life. Aristotle himself was something of an alchemist. So were the Chinese, and they seem to be all wrapped up in this too, somehow."

Elena brushed back a strand of hair and looked at him skeptically. "I'm sorry- how are they involved?"

Nate leaned closer to her as he began to explain. "Most people think of alchemy as a European thing- old wizards with bushy beards stirring cauldrons in dank dungeons and all that. But alchemy has been around for centuries. The Chinese were way into it, and as with all alchemists, a main focus of their research was to find the key to eternal life." He inhaled deeply, as if catching his breath for what he was about to say. "Peng Lai was the legendary Island of the Immortals, supposedly holding the key to eternal youth. It's fascinating, really. I never realized how similar the two legends were, Atlantis and Peng Lai: both lush island paradises, filled with gold, silver, and jewels. Anyway," he pulled a piece of ancient-looking parchment covered with Chinese characters from the journal and carefully slid it across the table. "This is seems to be part of a letter from a Chinese alchemist concerning the quest for the island. I'm no good with Chinese, but I guess if we could get it translated it might tell us something. It might be all we have to go on until we can figure out what Newton's 'chapel of the moon' is."

Elena gingerly picked up the brittle piece of parchment and looked it over. "I don't get it," she said. "Why all the secrecy? I mean we've got Alexander's men trying to keep him from getting to Atlantis, and Newton being all furtive about his discoveries. Why did neither of them want their find to become public? It seems like something as big as Atlantis would be the find of a lifetime."

Nate nodded. "Whatever is there must be the kind of thing that they thought they should keep secret from powerful tyrants like Alexander. Something dangerous." He looked at them meaningfully. "Newton would have wanted to keep his studies under wraps to avoid the scrutiny of the church. To fall out of favor with them would've ruined his career."

The shadows from the window were growing long, snaking across the floor to touch the group as they sat. Sully rubbed his eyes and rested his arms on the table. "Just one more thing that's been eatin' at me," he said. "The location of Atlantis- Plato says right in his dialogue that it lay 'beyond the pillars of Hercules.' Why has no one found it yet? We know where the pillars are-"

"We assume we know where the pillars are," Nate interrupted, "but lets not forget how many things history tells us that we've proven wrong. They might not be in the Straight of Gibraltar at all, maybe they're somewhere totally different."

Sully sighed and leaned back in his chair. "Sounds about as reassuring as saying 'maybe Elvis isn't really dead at all'."

"Well, maybe he isn't-"

"Don't! even start..." Sully cautioned him, holding up a finger.

Nate smirked and put up his hands, then resumed speaking. "Look, the legend is that one of Hercules'- or, more accurately, Heracles', in Greek- twelve labors was to get some golden apples from Hera's garden, which was cared for by Atlas' daughters who were known as the Hesperides or the Atlantides. Interestingly, this fits well with the Atlantis/Peng Lai concept, where money literally grows on trees, and also with the Garden of Eden motif that Sir Isaac Newton mentioned. It even has it's own version of the serpent, the dragon Ladon who coiled around the tree to guard the apples, and could be analogous to the serpent in the Bible. In some tellings of the story, Heracles just kills Ladon and walks out with the apples, but in others he makes a deal with Atlas where he holds up the sky for a bit while Atlas fetches the apples for him. That would make a lot of sense if the garden was literally Atlantis, and was sitting at the bottom of the ocean as a result of Atlas' punishment."

Sully and Elena looked at each other and bobbed their heads in agreement.

"But here the myth splits again," Nate continued. "In some versions Atlas is tricked by a very juvenile ploy into shouldering the heavens once more, after which Heracles makes his unceremonious escape. But some say that Heracles actually built two massive pillars to hold up the sky, whereby freeing Atlas from his duty forever." Nate's eyes were shining. "If that's the case, then the pillars may still be out there for the finding, along with the lost city, and if so, we've gotta find it!"

"Apples of gold..." Sully pinched the bridge of his nose and sucked air through his teeth. "You know what? I think I've earned a nice cup of joe."

"You've earned two or three, slugger," Nate said cheerfully as his mentor rose and wandered into the kitchenette. Soon he heard the gurgling of the coffee maker and rolled his eyes when he heard Sully whistling "Can't Help Falling in Love." He swiveled in his seat to grin at Elena, but his smile faded when he saw the unreadable expression she wore. "What's up, hon?" he asked.

She looked at him with eyes that were heavy with world-weary melancholy, and he was momentarily taken aback and shifted uncomfortably in the silence. "Does it ever get lonely?" she asked.

He struggled to form words. "Wha-what?"

Elena sighed. "All that weight you feel obliged to carry. Does it ever start to feel lonesome at all?"

Somewhere in Nate's consciousness it registered that this was not the first time he'd been asked this question in the last year. Maybe not those exact words, but the general gist was all there, and as always, he squirmed under the implication. "If I don't, then-"

"-no one else will, I know," she sighed bitterly. "But Nate, what if- someday- you don't come home? What if all these shootouts and booby traps finally catch up with you, and you... don't... make it?" She looked at him with glassy eyes as she continued, raising her voice just enough to convey the passion behind her words. "What do you expect me to do then?"

He looked up at her, feeling like a deer caught in headlights. "I-" Nate shook his head and huffed. "I don't know!" His blue eyes were earnest as he gazed into the murky depths of Elena's hazel-green orbs. "But I promise, honey, I promise I won't do that to you."

"How do you know that?"

The question was simple, clear, and horribly impossible to answer. No matter how many ways he tried to rationalize the situation in his brain, Nate knew that he was cornered. There was no way he could actually promise that he would come home each time. Somehow, his impossibly lucky stars had kept him this long, but he was kidding himself if he thought that he could count on that forever. His mouth opened to answer, but his voice caught in his throat until he finally just shook his head softly and weakly said, "I don't know."

Elena held his gaze silently for a few moments. Standing up, she stretched her arms above her head which resulted in a few joints cracking, and pushed her chair up to the table. As she turned, she spoke again, her eyes going back to her husband's. They were eyes filled with unspoken grief, but devoid of accusation. Eyes that broke Nate's heart as he gazed back into them and the unfathomable, self-sacrificing understanding they offered him.

"Nate?"

Once more he felt challenged just to find a voice, and when he did find it it sounded incredibly pathetic to his own ears. "Yeah, sweetheart?"

"Just promise me that if anyone ever offers to hold up the sky for you, you won't turn them down." With that she turned and walked away into their bedroom, closing the door behind her. At the same moment Sully wandered back in, still whistling breezily, and Nate let out a breath he hadn't realized he was holding. A mug of coffee materialized in front of him and Nate wrapped his hands around it, breathing in the earthy aroma and hoping it would clear his mind. Sully resumed his seat across from him and looked at him curiously.

"Where'd Elena go?"

"She was feeling tired," Nate said, and took a long swig of his coffee. He grimaced as the still-hot liquid scalded his throat on the way down.

If Sully picked up on the tension, he didn't let on. Instead, he merely asked, "So what now? Where do we go from here?"

Nate pulled the Chinese parchment close again and examined the characters, grateful for the distraction Sully offered him. "I'd say we find someone to translate this for us, and in the meantime we keep trying to work out this whole 'chapel of the moon' business." He pulled out his own journal to look at the page where he had scrawled Newton's words down with a big question mark next to them, as well as a few half-baked attempts to decipher them. On the opposite page he began sketching a picture of Floki with an exaggeratedly bushy beard and wearing a Viking-style horned helmet, standing at the helm of a longboat and pointing in rage at a fleeing Nate.

Sully slurped some coffee and then stroked his chin thoughtfully. "Hmm, what about that girl we worked with on the Solomon job- you know, the one who went into the field in China? What was her name, Maggie? Madeleine?"

"Molly," Nate supplied, closing his journal and putting it back in his pocket. "I thought of her, but I think I have a favor I can call in in Xi'an, somebody who can help us out." He fiddled with the ring dangling around his neck as he turned to the window. "Besides, Chloe and Charlie are in that area and I thought they might want to get in on this job. Give us a couple extra pairs of eyes watching our back."

"I won't say no to that," Sully said and threw back another swig of coffee. "We leave first thing in the morning?"

"First thing in the morning," Nate echoed. "We've got to get out of Iceland before Floki and Garnier track us down." He stood, his chair scraping back on the wood-printed linoleum. Giving Sullivan a crooked scowl, he added, "Now, if you'll excuse me, I've got relationship issues to work on."

As Nate walked away, Sully checked his phone, taking note of the date. "What's it been, almost a year?" he mumbled to himself, and then nodded, clasping his hands together behind his head. "Yep, I'd say that the honeymoon's over."

Chapter Text

Xi'an, China:

As Nate stepped off the plane and on to the small private runway on the outskirts of Xi'an, the sun was already igniting the sky in a vibrant display of reds, oranges, and pinks as it dipped low on the horizon. A gentle breeze blew over the fields surrounding them, combining with the wind coming off the props and lifting his bangs as it caressed his smiling face. On every side of the lone strip of pavement beneath them swayed golden grasses, bowing and bending in the wind, rippling up and over the gently undulating hills towards the city. Inhaling deeply, Nate's smile grew just a bit wider as he savored the coolness of the evening.

A hand on his shoulder made him turn, and he met Elena looking at him with those wide, caring eyes of hers. His smile faded slightly. As the amber sunlight shone on her lovely features, he recalled their talk the night before and couldn't help but feel a little guilty. They hadn't argued, not exactly, but it was clear that something was eating at her, and for the life of him he couldn't nail down exactly what it was. She smiled wanly, her hazel eyes gazing into his, and her shapely mouth opened to speak.

"Beautiful, isn't it?"

Nate's eyes dimmed as a pit settled into his stomach, an inexplicable melancholy feeling washing over him. "Yeah," he said, sotto voce.

The door crashed against the side of the plane again, drawing both of their attention. "Where's Chloe and Charlie?" Sully's voice was loud and brash, and oblivious to the moment.

Distracted from his feelings by the interruption, Nate turned to Sully and remarked, "Should be here soon. Chloe's generally pretty on it, when it comes to work." The trio turned and looked down the paved road that split off the runway, curving past a metal outbuilding before turning to gravel as it passed through the chain-link fence that surrounded the small airstrip. In the distance they could see a small dust cloud kick up and travel steadily towards them. "Speak of the devil," Nate grinned.

As the dust cloud got closer, they could make out a forest green SUV at the front of it, the paint dull and sun-faded. The car turned the last corner and slowed as it entered through the gate and honked twice. Nate, Elena, and Sully held up hands in greeting and the car pulled up alongside of them, vague shadows of human forms visible through the heavily tinted windows. Both front doors opened at the same time, and Chloe and Charlie stepped out, smiling at their waiting friends.

"Nate!" Chloe smiled, putting her hands on her hips. "Good to see you again." Her greeting carried a genuine warmth, but she dutifully refrained from embracing in the presence of his new wife.

"You too, Chloe," Nate said cheerfully.

"Chloe!" Sully spread his arms wide and locked her in an overly-enthusiastic hug, while Nate smirked and raised his eyebrows at his questionable behavior. "How's my girl doin'?"

Chloe, caught quite off guard, stammered, "G-good!" Looking at Nate over Sully's shoulder, she furrowed her brows questioningly. He just shrugged in response. "How are you doing, Victor?" she asked.

Nate bro-hugged Charlie with a clap on the back and Sully moved over to say hello to him as well, leaving Chloe and Elena to face each other for the first time since Shambala. "Elena, sweetheart," Chloe was careful to keep her tone upbeat, though her smile became a bit wooden. "How have you been?"

Shaking Chloe's hand firmly, Elena replied sardonically, "Besides picking shrapnel out of my side and all the scarring, I'd say not half bad." She smiled wryly. "I suppose all that comes with the territory, though."

"You did marry a Drake," Chloe agreed.

"Oh believe me," Elena said. Putting her hands on her hips, she leaned closer to Chloe's ear and said more quietly, "I know."

Picking up on the undertones of Elena's words, Chloe's shoulders shook as a soft chuckle escaped her mouth. "Trouble in paradise, love?"

Before Elena had time to answer, Charlie interrupted by saying, "Bloody lovely seeing you all, but we should get this show on the road if we're going to get there at any reasonable time of the evening."

"True!" Nate agreed. Unaware of his wife's exchange with Chloe, he turned to the two women and swept his arm towards the SUV. "Ladies, your chariot awaits."

Having broken the ice with Elena, Chloe felt comfortable enough to give a joking, "Such a charmer!" in response, while Elena rolled her eyes with an "Oookay, cowboy," as she climbed into the back. As they rumbled out of the airstrip enclosure and onto the gravel road beyond, Nate eyed the car's sagging headliner.

"Spared no expense with this one?" he asked sarcastically.

"Talk to Charlie Cheaplin about that, mate," Chloe said, sporting a dark pair of sunglasses and looking out the passenger's side window. From the way back, Sully chortled at her pun. "I had something far more classy in mind."

"Oi! Wouldn't do to spend all our money on transport, now would it?" Charlie protested.

Though it was hard to tell behind her sunglasses, Chloe most likely rolled her eyes at this point. "Charles, love, I hardly think that renting a respectable vehicle would have broken the bank. If it would, we should reeeeally reconsider our chosen profession."

"You've got it pegged all wrong," Sully chimed in from the back. "This car's great. It's even got a cigarette lighter in the backseat..."

"Sully!" Chloe shrieked. "If you light up in here, I swear to God that this fifty-dollar rental is coming out of your pocket!"

"It was not fifty dollars..."

It was around nine that night that they pulled up to their hotel in downtown. As the crew began to shuffle about, collecting their bags and stretching their travel-cramped limbs, Chloe stirred in the passenger's seat, waking from her sleep she had fallen into shortly after their departure from the airport. As she sat up straight and looked out the windshield, she frowned.

"Dark out tonight, isn't it?" she observed.

Elena, still seated behind her, reached forward and gently removed the sunglasses from Chloe's face.

"Oh," Chloe said. "Right."

Nate entered the hotel behind Charlie and followed him to the receptionist's desk, wheeling his and Elena's suitcase behind him. "I have a reservation," Cutter announced to the young woman behind the counter. "You can find it under Quartermane."

As the receptionist looked up the name, Nate smirked and raised an eyebrow at Charlie. "You're not really much on the subtlety thing, are you?"

"I have my fun," Cutter said in a low voice as he handed some money to the woman. Slinging his duffel over his shoulder as the rest of the crew walked in through the revolving door, he made for the elevators.

As they walked down the hall to their respective rooms, Chloe called over her shoulder, "Meet up in our place to talk about the plan?"

Nate and Sully exchanged a glance, then simultaneously answered, "Sure!"

Stopping in front of his and Elena's room, Nate fished in his pocket for his key card when suddenly he felt a hand clap onto the handle of the suitcase he was toting. Looking up, he met his wife's smiling face as she held up her own card. "Go ahead," she said, nodding toward the others who were moving further away from them. "Do what you need to do. I'm gonna hit the hay, though. I've been really busting it to get this new job, and I'm feeling tired."

Grinning, Nate kissed the top of her head. "Thanks, sweetheart," he said before leaving the suitcase with her and jogging off to catch up.

A couple hours later, the whole gang- minus Elena- sat around the table in the hotel room Chloe and Charlie had gotten together ("for the sake of economy"). Everyone, that is, except for Nate, who was pacing around and gesticulating like an eccentric professor as he explained everything they knew thus far about their mission, more or less lost in his own world in that way Nate always got when he was expounding on history. Empty beer bottles and takeout containers from their supper littered the room like it was a college frat house, and Chloe absently spun a bottle on the table as Nate was wrapping up his monologue.

"...and that's why we need to talk to Ming jie," he concluded, turning to face his small audience. "Until we can figure out where Newton hid his secret lab, this little piece of parchment is about all we have to go on."

"Yeahhh," Charlie pondered. "I'll have to put some thought into that whole 'chapel of the moon' thing."

"Uh, excuse me," Chloe piped up, raising her hand as if she was in school. "Who's this Ming jie person?"

Nate used a nickel to pry the top off another beer as he answered, "Guy I helped out a couple years ago. Got into a bad situation with some pirates and they were about to burn his boat to the ground. I helped- disperse them."

Chloe's mouth formed a small "o" and she gave the bottle on the table another spin. It came to rest with the neck pointing at Charlie, and the two smirked conspiratorially at each other. Cutter gave the bottle a spin of his own, but his smile vanished as it ended pointing at Sully. Deflated, he promptly picked it up and tossed it over his shoulder into the trash can behind him.

"Just one thing bothers me about this," Cutter spoke, leaning forward with his elbows on the table. Nate raised his eyebrows and looked at him expectantly. Eyes flicking between his three companions to ensure he had their attention, Charlie forged ahead. "I'm not sold that Aristotle didn't do anything with what he knew. Just think about it: he has this esoteric knowledge about a technologically advanced empire that potentially holds the key to eternal life, and he personally tutored not one, but two military heroes- Alexander, and Antipater- in a time of significant unrest in Greek history. Do you really think he just sat on all that intel because of some kind of conscientious obligation?"

The room was quiet as the implications of Charlie's words sunk in. Chloe flipped through Newton's journal which was sitting open in the middle of the table. "Why does this seem so familiar?" she asked, stopping on a page and pointing at the image sketched out on it.

Nate peered over her shoulder and saw the same star emblem he and Elena had used to track down the astrolabe in Delphi. "The Argead star?" he asked. "Represents the sun. It was used in ancient Greece." He shrugged. "I know what you mean though. I feel like it should mean something more to me, but I can't place what it is."

Sully's eyes wandered to the clock on the wall and saw it was almost midnight. Speaking for the first time in a good ten minutes, he said, "Well, how about all you historians let your brains mull over this while we sleep? It's getting late, and we've got a lot to do tomorrow."

Nate visually checked with Chloe and Charlie and then agreed. "Good idea. We'd better keep at the top of our game to stay ahead of Floki and Garnier." He scooped up Newton's journal and pulled an elastic band around it as he reached to put it back in his pocket.

"Mind if I hang on to that for the night, mate?" Cutter asked. "I'd like to keep working on this for a bit."

"Knock yourself out," Nate said, handing him the leather-bound book.

Arriving at his own door a minute later, Nate pulled out his wallet and extracted his key card. He swiped it and the light on the knob flashed green, and he gently pushed open the door to his room, careful not to disturb Elena. Moving in the dark so as not to wake her, he found the bathroom and stepped inside, flicking the light on when the door was mostly shut, but as he was turning the handle to avoid the latch making a noise as it closed, he suddenly heard a sound that stopped him in his tracks.

"Nate?" It was his wife's voice, and was slurred like she was sleep talking, but then it came again with increasing clarity and urgency. "Nate? Oh... Nate...OH MY GOD, NATE!" She nearly screamed the last one, and he burst from the bathroom, instinctively reaching to his side but finding no gun. Elena was sitting up in bed and frantically patting the empty covers beside her as she groaned over and over, "Nate, oh no, Nate..."

Nate pulled up short, bewildered by his wife's behavior, but quickly reached out to wake her from the nightmare she was apparently having. "Elena, honey," he said gently. "Hey, I'm here!"

Elena turned her head to look at him with panicked eyes that slowly softened as recognition dawned on her. She threw herself at him, wrapping her arms around him in a crushing embrace. "Oh, thank god," she breathed into his shoulder.

Nate gently pushed her back into a sitting position on the bed and flicked the lamp on as he sat down beside her. "Hey, you okay?" he asked.

Elena's head flopped forward and shook side to side. "Yeah... yeah, I'm okay," she said. Her voice was still shaky and breathless.

Wrapping an arm around her shoulders, Nate pulled her tightly to himself. "Bad dream?"

"I- yeah, bad dream." She sighed and wiped her forehead. "It seemed so real," she agonized. "And then they... and you were..." She trailed off and shook her head more violently to clear the visions from her mind.

"Hey, it's okay..." Nate reassured her. "I'm here, 'Lena." He lay down with her on the bed and tenderly turned her to face away from him so he could rub her shoulders, continuing to speak softly to comfort her. For many quiet minutes they lay like that in the warm ambiance of the single bedside lamp in the otherwise dark hotel room far from home. Elena was curled up, her knees to her chest, in her usual sleepwear of a T-shirt and panties, while Nate, still fully dressed and smelling faintly of beer, continued to dig his thumbs into her shoulders and upper back in an attempt to dispel the considerable tension there. He had lost track of how long they had continued that way when all of a sudden he felt a small tremor ripple down Elena's body. Suspicious, he slowly trailed one hand along her arm, up her neck, and across her cheek, the skin feeling petal-smooth beneath his calloused palm. Reaching her cheekbone, he lifted his hand and found it to be wet.

"Elena?" he asked with concern, pulling on her shoulder to roll her back towards himself. Her hands came up to hide her face, but Nate had already seen and he lightly grasped her wrist. "Honey? What's going on?"

She sobbed, the noise hitching as she tried in vain to stop herself from crying. Nate wrapped his arms around her and pulled her into himself as she continued to shake with silent tears, occasionally punctuated with a gasp. As he held his wife while she rode out her grief, Nate stared straight ahead at the opposite wall of the hotel, thinking about things to say to maybe comfort her, only for his mind to immediately remind him that he was almost no good at sympathetic sentiments. He had no way of knowing what she was crying about yet, but it didn't take a genius to realize it probably had to do with him. So he lay there, and he thought. Thought about the ways he'd hurt her, skipped out on her, not followed through with promises to be there for her. He thought about just how much he sucked at being a husband, or even just a responsible, consistent presence in anyone's life. The pressure he felt to be the hero in these kind of circumstances that often caused him to push himself so hard and so far that he left others in the dust. If only he could somehow find a way to be there for Elena at the same time he was out there trying to stop psychopaths with delusions of grandeur...

His dark musings were interrupted by Elena speaking his name, her voice sounding frail and vulnerable. "Nate?"

"Yeah, honey?"

She pulled away from him just enough that she could look into his face. "Promise me... promise me that you'll get out of this before it finishes you. That you won't leave me... alone..."

Nate's expression was sober as he gazed down at her. He nodded, struggling to find words. "I won't," he said softly.

He continued to hold her despite knowing somewhere in the back of his mind he should get undressed for bed. He held her, telling himself that she needed him to, to keep her safe and close to him. But deeper down, he knew that he was holding on to her just as much for his sake as for hers.

Sleep did not come easy that night for Nate.

Chapter Text

The next day, as the sun was setting over the city of Xi'an, Cutter rolled the forest-green rental SUV to a stop outside of an unassuming home on the outskirts of town. As the car doors opened and then shut, four treasure hunters and one journalist climbed out onto the sidewalk and all squinted into the sun as they observed the two-story, flat-roofed house with wood siding stained red and bright, inviting gardens planted along the path to the front door. Beyond the geometric silhouette of Ming jie's abode loomed the skyline of downtown, as well as the familiar sight of the Giant Wild Goose Pagoda, of which Sully had sarcastically noted- "Hopefully that doesn't become a job-appropriate name."

The eclectic group meandered down the path to the house, Chloe commenting chipperly on the flowers as she passed them, and Nate rapped confidently on the front door, then took a step back and crossed his arms over his chest. After a short wait the door cracked open just a bit, and a young, round-faced Chinese man with square-rimmed glasses poked his head out hesitantly. Seeing Nate, the man's face went through an odd transformation, with his eyebrows shooting up in surprise at the same time as his countenance darkened.

"Drake?" he asked incredulously.

"The one and only," Nate replied cooly.

Eying the others in the group suspiciously, Ming jie glared at him. "You could have called."

Nate's bravado failed him as he overheard the rumble of comments that this response elicited from Chloe, Cutter, and Sullivan as they each took shots at Nate's seeming inability to plan ahead. Trying to catch himself on the rebound, Nate stammered, "And miss the look of absolute surprise and overwhelming pleasure at seeing my face at your door?" Behind him, Chloe rolled her eyes at his boundless ego. Ming jie's face remained in a scowl, so Nate continued on. "I just need help translating something. Just a small favor, you know. Don't forget you owe me one."

The standoff continued for a brief moment, then Ming jie's face cracked into a toothy smile and he opened the door wide. "Of course, my friend. Come in, come in."

Visibly relieved, Nate walked through the door with a smile, followed by the others, and Ming led them down a hallway. As they walked, Sully leaned over to Nate.

"Close call there, kid. I thought he wasn't gonna let us in the house," he muttered.

"What can I say?" Nate shrugged. "I'm irresistible."

The hall opened into a small dining room with a high ceiling, a plain oak table and warm wood paneling on three walls. The fourth wall was almost entirely windows floor to ceiling, letting in an abundance of natural light to bathe the room and give it a delightful, breezy air. The windows also afforded a pleasant view of an attractively manicured flower garden and a small stretch of grass that led up to an alley behind the house; Chloe and Elena both stepped up to the glass to admire the view.

"Please," Ming spoke, his voice young and nasally, "have a seat." As his guests took their places around the table, the slight young man moved to an electric range and put a chipped porcelain tea kettle on the stove to boil. Returning to the table, he pushed his glasses up on his nose as he sat down. "So, my friend," he clasped his hands and leaned forward expectantly. "What do you have for me?"

Nate reached into his pocket and produced Sir Isaac Newton's journal, opening it on the table in front of him. He leafed through the pages to one of several that had been bookmarked by scraps of torn notebook paper and extracted the ragged piece of parchment, then laid it out flat and carefully smoothed the edges down as he shot a grin at Ming jie. "Take a look at this," he said smugly.

Ming's eyes scanned over the page, studiously studying each character before he looked soberly at Nate. Anticipation hung heavy in the room as the young scholar reached out and gingerly lifted the parchment, fingers barely seeming to touch the brittle paper for fear of it crumbling away to nothing, and held it up in front of his face. Though his eyes were hidden behind the paper, Nate could see his eyebrows lift until they almost touched his hairline, and the wrinkles produced in his forehead shifted subtly as he scanned each line right to left. After a long and suspenseful silence, the parchment was returned to the oak tabletop, revealing a quizzical and somewhat disturbed look on Ming jie's face.

"Where did you get this?" the young man asked simply.

Holding the open journal between his thumb and forefinger, Nate held it up for Ming to see. "Sir Isaac Newton's journal. He was in search of Atlantis, which may have been connected with the legend of Peng Lai."

Ming's face was stony as he replied, "I would say it is more than a possibility."

Charlie leaned forward impatiently. "Do tell," he prodded. "We're all ears."

Ming started to speak, but was interrupted by the shriek of the teapot reaching a boil. His mouth snapped shut again, and he bowed slightly. "First: some tea all around," he said, then stood and went back to the stove. A minute later he came back, setting down a steaming cup of tea in front of each of them.

"Xie xie ni," Chloe said as she received her mug. Charlie shot her a dubious look, to which she simply shrugged. "What?" she asked.

As the bespectacled young man settled back in his chair at the head of the table, Sully swept a hand toward him. "The parchment," he said with thinly-veiled impatience. "You were saying?"

Nate took a swig of his tea, masking his slight grimace behind his cup. He had never been very fond of green tea.

"It is not a complete piece," Ming began, once more eying the yellowing page. "There was obviously more to the original correspondence, but it is a letter." He looked up, meeting Sully's eyes. "I will read you what is here."

Clearing his throat, Ming launched into a dictation of the printed characters, his voice taking on that air of importance that often comes with reading the words of someone lost to history. "Of the 700,000 working on the project, I have, in secret, taken a contingency of 50 men to create a hidden chamber to the northwest of the mausoleum, in which I will conceal the details of my journey. For, as you and I both know, such great power must not fall into the hands of the emperor, lest he grow yet more ruthless in his exertion of tyranny, and the world itself fall at his feet. As for me, I have deceived the great emperor of the Qin into giving me archers, with which I hope to go and take Peng Lai for my own, by following the path of the great Ram of the West. Should you someday take courage to follow me, I have marked the hidden chamber with the symbol we have found on our journey, which we have called the star of Anqi Sheng. Destroy this letter, lest it be discovered and the emperor have you executed for treason. May we meet again, my brother, whether in this life, or in the life beyond."

As Ming finished, Charlie looked over at Nate, excitement plainly visible on his face. "That's too easy. It may as well have given us the answer."

Equally excited, Nate grabbed his seat and nearly pushed himself off of it as he replied eagerly, "Xu Fu! Of course, it's so obvious!"

"Uh- I'm sorry. Who's this delightful new character we're talking about?" Chloe asked, raising an eyebrow.

"Xu Fu? Alchemist and explorer during the time of the Qin dynasty?" Cutter offered, hoping to see if it would stick. "Qin Shi Huang sent him on a search for Peng Lai- twice- in hopes of finding the elixir of life. The Mausoleum it mentioned is clearly Shihuangdi's tomb, just to the northeast of here."

Picking up Charlie's exposition, Nate continued, "After coming back empty-handed from the first voyage, Xu Fu explained to the emperor that he had encountered a huge sea creature and needed archers to defeat it. Qin Shi Huang obliged, and Xu set off on another voyage, never to be seen again." Nate's eyes were alive and shining.

"How much you want to bet that that 'star of Anqi Sheng' is the Argead star?" Chloe said dryly.

Nate turned to her, grinning broadly. "It's not even a contest," he said.

Sully was now smiling equally as much as Nate, and rested his elbows on the table as he spoke. "The mausoleum of the First Emperor... that's not far from here. We should go first thing in the morning," he proposed.

"No," Ming jie's sudden interjection caught everyone off guard. "We go tonight."

Nate looked at him, cocking his head to the side curiously. "Why that, Ming?"

Ming jie's expression was grave. "Because if I know you, Drake, someone is always on your heels, and I would rather you be gone before they show up at my doorstep."

"That's what I'm afraid of," Elena spoke suddenly, having been unusually quiet, echoing the sentiment, tapping her fingers idly on the "I heart Nepal" mug Ming jie had given her.

Glances were exchanged between the four treasure hunters present, then Nate spoke up, voicing everyone's thoughts. "Fair enough. We go tonight."

Night had fully fallen by the time they made it to the mausoleum at the foot of Mount Li. Nate had considered pointing out that the darkness would be a definite drawback in trying to find a cryptic symbol left behind by some random Chinese guys over two millenia ago, but in the end had decided against it, as he knew Ming's evaluation of the situation could not have been closer to the truth. The last thing he needed was to put yet another innocent person in danger.

As it was, six beams of light cast by six discrete flashlights (the five of their original group, plus Ming jie) combed the landscape at the northwest corner of the mausoleum, searching for anything that resembled a star. The night air was beginning to feel thick with moisture as the night cooled and the dew fell, and the aroma of firs and spruce trees hung heavy in the atmosphere. Having unofficially divided up into groups of two, Nate and Elena in one group, Chloe and Charlie in another, and Sully and Ming jie in the last, the conducted their search quietly, only occasionally exchanging hushed whispers between themselves. Nearly an hour later, and they were left with nothing besides shoes that were thoroughly drenched by the soaking wet grass.

"So, they would have wanted to be working somewhere discreet... somewhere they wouldn't be noticed by the people working on the mausoleum," Nate mused, though whether to himself or to her, Elena couldn't really tell. "Somewhere easy to hide..." Nate trailed off and his gaze turned to Mount Li. On an impulse, he scrambled up a short incline, causing a soft clatter as scree tumbled downward in his wake. His flashlight beam bobbed as he moved, then resolved into a narrow patch of light focused on the mountain right in front of him. Elena could hear his continued mutterings as he crawled over the rock face, lost in his own thoughts.

"Uh, Nate?" she called softly.

He stopped and turned to her, inadvertently blinding her with his light. "Yeah, hon?"

Shielding her eyes with one hand, Elena grunted, "Don't you think being up on the side of a mountain would be the least inconspicuous place you could be?"

Nate lowered his flashlight sheepishly. "Yeah, I guess so."

Suddenly, Charlie's unmistakably accented voice cut through the night. "Nate, ol' boy. You might want to come see this."

No objections there. Nate immediately slid down to the ground, and together with Elena he rushed around the corner to see what they had found. Cutter stood facing the mountain and shining his flashlight up at a spot maybe fifteen feet up, with Chloe next to him. Following the flashlight's beam to where it pooled on the rock face, casting eery shadows where it hit crags and outcroppings of jagged stone, Nate could see a symbol carved into the mountain- distorted and made indistinct by time and the elements, and only about the size of a stop sign, but it was there. And it was, unmistakably, in the shape of a many-pointed star.

With his eyes, Nate followed the mountain face down to where it met the ground. Directly beneath the star the grass sloped down into a cleft in the rock, the end of which was very narrow, like a long, vertical slit had been carved into the stone. He noticed that the cleft seemed to end in a pile of small boulders, almost like a rock slide had filled it in at some point.

"Is that a cave-in?" Chloe voiced Nate's thoughts.

"Sure looks that way." Sully, who had just arrived with Ming, placed a cigar into his mouth and pulled out his lighter.

"We've gotta get through that!" Nate's words tumbled out, almost on top of each other, as his excitement piqued. Turning to Chloe, he asked, "What do we have for excavating in the car?"

Chloe's lips parted with a smack, and she looked up and to the side as she considered. "I think I brought some dynamite..." she offered.

"Chloe!" Elena hissed. "We are not using dynamite! This is a-"

"-UNESCO world heritage site, I know," Nate interrupted his wife. "But seriously, Chloe, I know in your mind an explosion is pretty much synonymous with a plan, but that's not exactly the most stealthy way to go about this."

"Or legal," Sully chimed in.

Chloe huffed in annoyance. "Right, would you rather just clear all that out by hand, with no tools and no time to speak of?"

"Maybe."

"Really?" Chloe challenged.

Nate frowned and crossed his arms over his chest as he faced off with her, each of them stubbornly scowling at the other in the shadowy glow of the flashlights. It was a terrible idea. It really was, Nate thought. But then again, most of their ideas were. With a huff of his own, he dropped his arms to his sides and turned to Sully.

"Hey, can you c'mere? I'm gonna need you to-"

"Light it up, Sully!" Nate called.

Sully touched flame to wick and then ran to take cover behind the outcropping of rock that the others were sheltered behind. With fingers in their ears, the gang waited for the inevitable blast. When it came, it ripped the stillness of the night and sent dust and debris flying in a cloud of destruction. It had only been a half stick, but Nate was guessing that it was plenty to attract attention, if anyone was nearby. As they all moved to go see the results of their unorthodox archeology, Ming grabbed Nate's shoulder, holding him back.

"I think you owe me a favor, after this one," the young Chinese scholar said, pointing at himself.

"Touche," Nate said, then followed after the others. He unsurprisingly found Chloe at the head of the group, shining her light straight ahead and staring into the crevice that had been left behind after the explosion. Also unsurprisingly, he found Charlie at the rear of the group, hanging back in dread of the tight squeeze ahead. "You got this, pal," Nate said, slapping his shoulder as he walked by.

One by one, they slipped through the jagged and narrow opening, Chloe first, then Sully, and then Elena, who was followed by Nate. On the other side, they found themselves in a passageway that had been cut into the rock by crude instruments, the rough hewn surfaces bearing the marks of age-old tools, that sloped steeply down and away from them. Nate stared in wonder as he moved his beam of light back and forth between the walls, enthralled by the history they were suddenly immersed in. Ming popped out into the tunnel behind them, and faintly mumbled self-encouragement could be heard from Charlie as he squirmed his way through his worst phobia.

Chloe turned on her heel and walked backwards for a few steps, cupping a hand around her mouth and calling back to him, "C'mon, love! It's solid gold on the other side!"

Charlie finally emerged a bit winded and shook up, but quickly regained his composure and grunted as he looked around. "Solid gold, my arse," he muttered.

"It was metaphorical," Chloe replied breezily.

They all began to move forward together, but were suddenly stopped by a command from Ming jie. "Wait!" he said, holding out a hand. When the others turned to look at him, he explained, "This tunnel was built by the same people who built Shihuangdi's tomb- a place famously booby-trapped and guarded by various devices." He looked at the treasure hunters meaningfully. "We must be cautious."

Nate frowned. "He's right. Let's keep an eye out."

"Right," Cutter agreed. "Last thing we need is to just waltz right into our own doom."

After following the tunnel for about two hundred feet the material of the walls and floor abruptly changed to cleanly formed blocks, causing the group to stop and examine it. As he looked around, Nate noticed that there were narrow troughs about four feet up the wall that ran at least the visible length of the tunnel, and that along the troughs, spaced about every ten feet, were carved stone dragon heads with their mouths gaping open. "Sully!" Nate called, holding up a hand without looking back. "Gimme a light?" When he felt the cold brass of Sully's Zippo press into his palm, he stepped forward and flicked the striker with his thumb, then held the flame to the trough on the left. Whatever was in the bottom flared up, running quickly down the length of the tunnel, and at every one of the dragon heads along the way there was a whoosh and a burst of flame from the open mouths as an apparently concentrated amount of whatever incendiary material was in the troughs caught fire. Repeating the process on the right side of the tunnel, Nate admired his handiwork in the form of a now well lit tunnel stretching before them.

"Quite the flare there, Nate," Chloe commented.

"What can I say? I like a little ambiance in my old creepy tombs," Nate quipped.

"Douse the torches," Cutter ordered, flicking off his flashlight. "We may need the batteries later."

As the rest of the group followed suit, Nate handed Sully's lighter back to him. "When are you gonna be convinced to start carrying one of these yourself?" Sully asked, his voice muffled by the fat cigar still hanging out of his mouth. He had snuffed it on coming into the tunnel- the low oxygen environment of underground crypts weren't exactly the best place to smoke- but still he resolutely chomped it's unlit stub.

Grinning, Nate replied, "What? And rob you of your job security?" he snarked.

Rolling his eyes, Sully muttered around his cigar, "Kids these days..."

Chapter Text

Shortly thereafter, the passageway leveled off, and the group arrived at what seemed to be a type of foyer. The room opened up a bit wider then the rest of the tunnel, with a set of heavy wood doors that loomed imposingly straight ahead. The walls to their right and left were adorned with one dragon-head sconce each, directly beneath which stood half-round brick walls that seemed to be surrounding some kind of a well on each side. Cutter peered over the knee-high wall and scoffed. "Quicksilver," he said, using both hands to point to the wells. "Mercury." He glanced at Nate. "Looks like Sima Qian was right on the whole thing about rivers of mercury."

"Yeah," Nate said. "They must have siphoned all of this off of the mausoleum project. Unless this connects to it," he added, noticing the apparent motion of the mercury below.

"Yeaaahhh," Chloe drawled. "It all seems a little overkill for this clandestine-Peng Lai-cult-clubhouse thing, huh?"

"Only a little," Charlie understated.

Nate turned his attention to the doors. Striding confidently forward, he wrapped his fingers around the bottom edge of a thick plank that rested in a set of iron brackets, barring the doors shut, and heaved on it. Finding it to be surprisingly heavy, he crouched down, putting his shoulder under it, and then used his legs to push up until the plank came out of the brackets and fell to the floor with a crack that echoed loudly in the small area. "Open sesame," Nate smiled, giving the doors a shove.

"This is the complete wrong demographic for that line, mate," Charlie countered.

As the doors swung open, a collective gasp was uttered by the small group. The chamber thus revealed was square, with a golden dragon statue in the center that was reared up on its hind legs atop a small pedestal, and a table off to one side that was littered with objects that ranged from terra cotta pots and crude glass vials, to skulls, to tools of various types. At both sides of the room were ditches, about six feet wide, that were a continuation of the wells in the foyer and flowed with liquid mercury, and at the four corners of the room were low stone shelves or shrines of some kind. To the left of the doors burned a single dragon sconce, but this one had two unlit torches mounted above it.

Moving over to the table and picking up the skull, Sully commented, "It's some kind of alchemist's lab."

"Yeah," Chloe agreed. "But I don't see anything that looks like it would be our next clue. No parchments, no maps, no..." she trailed off as she looked in disgust at the contents of one of the clay pots, "...anything."

Nate was walking in a slow circle around the golden dragon, taking careful note of the shelves in the corners of the room as he passed them, then looked up at the ceiling. "No," he said. "It's here. Look!" He pointed to the ceiling, where there was a disk suspended by chains that had what appeared to be an Argead star that was missing some of its arms, resulting in a lopsided design. Upon closer inspection, it could be seen that the design was painted on a series of wheels that were superimposed on top of each other, each made out of amber-colored glass, and that in the free spaces around the star were painted various Chinese characters, as well as a smattering of seemingly random dots and lines. "Now look at these," Nate said, pointing to each of the shrines in turn. "See those little pictures above each of them? I'm a little fuzzy on the mythology, but I'm pretty sure that each of those represent an element."

"You're right," Ming jie gasped. "It's the four symbols!"

Jabbing a finger at his five companions in that determined, "I-just-figured-out-the-answer-to-this-puzzle" kind of way Nate did, he continued, "I bet if we find something that represents their respective elements and put them on those shelves, we might just get somewhere."

Cutter was already making his way over to one. "Alright, well what do we have?" He studied the stylized image on the shrine in front of him. "This one looks like a snake or something."

Everyone looked to Ming, who answered, "The Azure Dragon of the East. Its element is wood."

"Nate," Elena called holding up a pot that contained a small and long-dead tree. "This might do the trick."

"Right," Nate said. Taking the pot from her, he stepped up to the edge of the river of mercury across from the dragon shrine. "Here goes." He leaped across, landing on the narrow ledge on the other side, then reached to place the pot down on the shelf.

"Wait!" Elena suddenly called. "What if it's a trap?"

Nate stopped and met eyes with her while he considered the valid point she had made. "Umm, I don't know," he admitted. "I guess... we hope it's not?"

Elena sighed heavily. "That's what I thought you were going to say."

Nate shrugged and grinned what he hoped was a reassuring grin, then set the tree down on the shelf. There was a moment of silent anticipation, then a low grinding noise came from the ceiling. Looking up, they saw that the wheels had turned, giving the star another arm.

"Bloody hell, you're right!" Charlie muttered.

"Did you expect anything different?" Nate said cockily as he jumped back to their side of the river.

"Don't pull any important muscles patting yourself on the back," Sully grumbled.

"Alright, what about this one?" Chloe asked. "It's the tiger, if I remember right."

"Metal is the element represented by the White Tiger of the West," Ming replied.

A quick scan of the table, and Nate landed on an anvil-like hunk of metal. "One order of metal, coming right up!" Again clearing the river, he placed the metal and was rewarded by another turn of the wheels, gaining them two more arms on the star.

"Only two more points, and we'll be good to go!" Chloe cheered.

"I think I've got some kind of turtle over here?" Sully said in a way that came out more as a question. "I mean it's either that or a tumor..."

Again Ming came to their aid on the interpretation. "The Black Tortoise of the North, representative of the element water."

"There's no water here, though," Sully pointed out. "Even if there was, it probably would have all dried up over the last two thousand years."

"No, there's no water," Charlie began slowly, "but there is a representation of it!" He pointed to the ditches of mercury.

"Of course!" Nate exclaimed. "Genius, Cutter.." He smacked him on the back, then called out, "Chloe, hand me one of those clay jars!"

"Be my guest," she said, pinching her nose as she emptied out the foul-smelling contents of the jar she had seen earlier and then handing it to him. Seemingly undeterred by the stench, Nate quickly dipped it in the mercury and then jumped to the tortoise shrine. Finding that this one had a small, bowl-shaped indentation in it, he used the contents of the jar to fill it up and then set the jar to the side. The expected grinding of the wheels sounded in the room, but this time they turned the opposite way, and when they looked up they had lost three of the arms that were there before and gained one new one.

"That put us down two!" Sully complained. "Did we do something wrong?"

Nate frowned, but answered, "Something tells me that if we had done it wrong, I probably wouldn't be standing here." He shrugged. "Let's keep going."

"This one is the Vermillion Bird of the South, whose element is fire," Ming supplied from the final corner of the room. As one man they all turned to face the dragon sconce by the door.

"No guesswork here, amiright?" Nate said, taking one of the torches above the sconce and holding it in the dragon's mouth to ignite it. Crossing the river one more time, he placed the torch on the shelf. The wheels turned in the direction they had before, for longer then they had before, and when it was over only one point was missing on the star.

"So close," Sully tutted, "yet no cigar."

Cutter was confounded. "Yeah. What's the deal mate? What are we missing?"

Ming hesitated only for a moment. "The dragon," he said, pointing to the statue in the center. "The Central element, earth, represented by the Yellow Dragon."

"Earth..." Nate repeated thoughtfully, then looked around. "What do we have tor represent earth?"

"Oh, god," Chloe groaned. "It's probably this god-awful stuff I dumped on the ground. I call 'not it'," she said, holding up her hands.

Nate rolled his eyes. "C'mon, what kind of treasure hunter are you?" He grabbed a shovel-like implement from the table and scooped some of the dirt of the floor in one swift motion.

"I'm one that likes to not play with things that smell like that," Chloe retorted.

The dragon's hands were cupped together in front of it, and Nate emptied the shovel into them and then stepped back. The grinding of the wheels shook the chamber once more, and the Argead Star appeared in its fullness. The six people in the chamber all gathered beneath it, gazing up in wonder at the image and the writing that surrounded it.

"What does it say?" Nate asked Ming, pointing up at the wheels.

The young man faltered, then admitted, "I don't know. It is very strange- like some things are still missing. See all these strokes and lines that do not form any characters?" He pointed some of them out. "Also, the characters that are fully formed- it is as if they are written in reverse. Like a mirror image." Ming shook his head, looking a little defeated.

A mirror image... Nate looked back and forth between his young colleague and the disks suspended above them. "I think I have an idea," he announced. Moving quickly to the sconce by the door, he took the second torch from its holder and ignited it in the dragon's mouth, then spun around and held it out to Sully. "Hold this, will you?" Sully obliged, and Nate turned back to the door. A lip of stone around the door frame made for his first handhold, after which he launched himself up, securing a hold in the mortar line between two stones while his foot rested on the torch holder.

"Oh, here we go," Cutter said sarcastically.

Throwing himself upwards, Nate grabbed onto a detail that ran the perimeter of the room, carved with images of dragons and half-lion dogs. He shimmied along that for a few feet until he found another foothold in the crumbling mortar, then twisted to scope out his next jump. The disks with the star were a good twelve feet away in the middle of the room, meaning that it would not be an easy jump from his position of hanging on the wall with little purchase. Taking a deep breath, he tensed his muscles and dug his toes into their spot on the wall, steeling himself to milk every bit of distance out of this jump he could.

"Nate?" he heard Elena call to him. "Be careful!"

"Always am!" he replied, then threw himself off the wall. The chains rattled as he grabbed the edge of the wheels, his legs continuing to swing forward from inertia, and the whole fixture began to sway gently from side to side.

"Hey! Are you sure that thing can hold you?" Sully asked.

"Not particularly, no!" Nate's left hand slipped off just as his body reached the end of its arc, and the momentum threatened to pull his other hand off as well. "WHOA-oh," he cried, flailing his free arm until he found his grip on the edge again. He pulled himself up using the chains, taking care to only stand on the iron band at the rim of the wheels, as he wasn't sure if the glass would hold his weight. Catching his breath as the whole apparatus slowly stopped swinging, he noticed that, just as he suspected, there was a glass bowl or urn just above the wheels, filled with some type of powder. "Sully, throw me the torch!" he shouted down to them. A moment later, it appeared in the air beside him, flames dancing in the wind displaced by the throw, and Nate snatched it with the hand that wasn't holding on to the chain. Leaning out as far as he could reach, he just managed to touch the torch to the contents of the bowl, which immediately sprung up in flames.

The light from the fire shone through the transparent bowl and then through the wheels below, dramatically casting the shadows of their markings on the floor beneath, while at the same time bathing the room in a warm, almost ethereal amber glow. Nate grinned as he looked down at the results- clearly formed Chinese characters surrounding the image of the Argead star.

"Eh, waddaya know?" Sully said in admiration. "It's a regular projector!"

Nate dropped down to the ground and pulled out his notebook to start sketching it.

Ming was in awe. "That's amazing! In shining through the wheels, it transfers the marks off of all the layers of glass, filling out the lines we couldn't see before!" He stammered, almost overwhelmed by the beautiful antiquity of it all as he pulled out his I-phone and began snapping pictures. "Th- the engineering behind this! The planning! The technology-"

"Yeah, that's all well and good, mate," Charlie interrupted. "Now what's it say?"

Looking slightly pouty at Cutter's brash interruption of his reverie, Ming jie began translating. "It says: 'The path of the immortals will be found from the Void, at the gates to the city of the great Western beast.'"

There was a pause, which was finally broken by Sully complaining, "Why do they never just say something like, 'Go to the Seven Eleven and take a left, the treasure's straight ahead next to the liquor store.'" A moment later, he added, "Don't answer that."

"'The Great Western beast'," Chloe repeated with a hum. "Is that like the White Tiger of the West?"

"Maybe," Nate mused, "but I think more likely it's the 'Great Ram' it mentioned in the parchment- which I'm pretty sure is Alexander the Great."

"Oh good," Cutter said dryly. "That narrows it down. I mean he only founded about twenty cities, we should be done looking by the time we're all ready to retire."

"It has to have something to do with the 'void', though," Chloe said.

As the others continued to discuss the possibilities, Nate took advantage of the moment of peace to ask the one question that had been nagging at him all night. Turning to his wife, he gently put a hand on her shoulder and spoke softly, "Hey, you're awfully quiet. You all right?"

She looked at him with a downcast expression. "I'm fine, Nate. Really. I just... have this feeling that something bad is about to happen. You know, like that feeling you get before a hurricane or something?"

"Yeah." He smiled bravely. "Don't worry, Elena. We're gonna be fine."

"Draaaake?" The voice was distorted slightly and amplified, giving the impression that it was coming through a loudspeaker, but it was unmistakably Floki's voice. It drifted down to them in a sing-song tone that sounded especially unnatural from someone with such a normally brutish roar. "Draaaaake, I know you're in there! Come on out, and play, Drake. Don't make me come down there!"

Immediately every one of them, besides Ming jie, who was unarmed, drew their guns and held them ready. "Where is he?" Chloe growled, spinning first one way, then the other.

"Ahhhh, explosions are not the most quiet way to excavate, are they my friend?"

Nate briefly made eye contact with Chloe, who glared daggers back at him in a way that communicated "don't even think about it". "Oh yeah?" Nate yelled back up the tunnel. "Well, shouting through a megaphone isn't exactly the apex of subtlety, either! Let's just call this a learning experience for both of us, and go home happy."

Floki's laughter echoed down the tunnel, the sound especially grating when amplified. "You Americans have quite the sense of humor! Now," he said, still using his fake friendly tone. "Why don't you come out of your hole like the rat you are, before I have to send down the kitties to drag you out?"

"What is up with this guy?" Sully rumbled, pulling the hammer back on his revolver.

"Nice try, Eric the Red, but we're not scared of you!" Nate shouted back.

There was a moment of silence, then Floki called down to them again, all pretense of affability gone in favor of his usual growl. "Very well, then. Here come the cats!"

"Why do I get the feeling that sounded more intimidating in 'is head?" Cutter muttered.

"Ming jie! Get down!" Nate called, shoving him down behind the Yellow Dragon statue. He and Sully and Elena all trained their weapons on the door while Chloe and Charlie pressed themselves flat to the wall on either side just before the first of the goons came into view. As the muzzle of an AK-47 appeared in the doorway, Chloe grabbed it and jerked it forward, causing the thug at the other end to come stumbling into the room. She promptly pistol-whipped him, knocking him to the ground, while Cutter shot the next one after. In the moments that followed, the air became a flurry of gunfire, causing Nate, Elena, and Sully to dive for any available cover while Chloe and Cutter blind-fired around the door frame.

Crouched next to Ming behind the dragon, Nat fired off a few shots at the thugs before he saw the first one that Chloe had knocked down reaching for his machine gun and scrambling to his feet. "Chloe!" he screamed, taking aim to bring the man down. But she had seen him too, and quickly grabbed him by his forearms and kneed him in the gut, causing him to grunt in pain and stagger backwards. The lull in return fire that had resulted when Chloe became distracted left an opening for the others still in the foyer to surge forward into the room, immediately locking Cutter into a brawl with two of them while the others fanned out across the room.

"This is really getting out of hand!" Nate shouted. Flinging himself forward into the fray, he punched one of the thugs in the jaw, then on the return drove his elbow into the chest of the next nearest goon. In the next moment Nate was grabbed from behind, and he swung his elbow into his aggressor's side repeatedly until he finally broke free, and then whirled around to meet him. But before he even had time to recover, Nate found himself staring down the gleaming blade of a long and evil looking knife that was coming right for his stomach. Nate's eyes went wide and he braced for the pain. The crack of pistol fire came next, a cry and a moan, and the knife-wielding thug slumped lifelessly to the ground, revealing Elena with a smoking 9 mil behind him. The thought registered with Nate that he was really going to have to thank his wife after this one, but he knew better than to try to talk right now. Instead he spun on his heel to continue battling their way out of the lab.

Chloe swung the butt of the machine gun she had wrestled from her opponent's grasp, striking him across the face and knocking him out cold. Returning it to a firing position, Chloe squeezed the trigger and the chatter of automatic gunfire echoed deafeningly in the room. Three more thugs got caught by her fire and fell dead, while the others dove out of the way and one from the foyer shot at Chloe, hitting her in the arm. She cried out in pain, dropping the AK-47 and falling to the ground. Cutter was quick to back her up, throwing a devastating right hook to the side of the offender's face and dislocating his jaw. Over by the Vermillion Bird shrine, Nate and Sully were finishing up a joint attack on two thugs when Nate was once more jumped from behind. This time he used the thug's momentum to his advantage: grabbing the man's sleeve, he bent at the waist and performed a passable throw that landed the goon in the river of mercury. As Nate stood up and turned, he was suddenly punched hard in the stomach, knocking the wind out of him, and then lifted bodily from the ground on the shoulder of a burly thug who had obvious intentions of making him suffer the same fate. But as the thug went to throw him, Nate used his feet to push off of the man's thighs, knocking the man back and gaining himself what he hoped would be enough of a boost to clear the river. He got his answer a moment later when his right shoulder collided with hard stone and he rolled into the corner of the small ledge on the other side of the mercury. Infuriated, the thug drew his weapon to shoot him, but even while laying on his side Nate was faster on the draw, taking down first him and then another goon on the other side of the room who was about to rabbit punch Cutter. A kick from Charlie's boot sent another thug to an unpleasant grave at the bottom of the mercury, and then the gang of treasure hunters turned to face an empty room.

"Where'd those bastards go?" Cutter growled, fists still raised.

Jumping the river back to the other side, Nate landed in a crouch and looked around. "They're gone!" He stood, confusion spreading across his face. "Why are they gone?" Out of instinct, Nate immediately did a head count of their group, something Elena had already begun. Chloe, Cutter, Sully...

They both arrived at the same realization at the same time, and cried in unison, "Ming jie- he's gone!"

Chapter Text

November 11, 2009

Nate and Elena's apartment:

Elena was awakened suddenly by a noise and sat up with a start, gripping the armrest of the couch on which she had fallen asleep fully clothed. When had she fallen asleep? Last she could remember she was staring at the empty yellow armchair- the one she and Nate had found on the side of the road in their quest to stock their humble abode with furniture- and sipping on a cup of coffee while she waited and worried about Nate and when he would come home. A quick glance at the clock told her that it was now four thirty-five in the morning; her coffee cup still sat on the table in front of the couch, half-full of coffee with cream that was now ice cold, and the chair across from her was still empty. Where is he?

The noise came again, and this time she recognized it as the deadbolt on the front door being turned, and she leaped up from the couch and ran to open it. The door swung slowly open and Nate stepped in, head down, but immediately lifted his eyes to meet his wife's. Instantly, the blood drained from Elena's face.

Nate was clutching his left shoulder, fresh blood visible on his fingers, soaking the sleeve of his shirt, and trickling out from under the cuff which was pushed up to his elbow. He grimaced and sucked air between his teeth as he smiled with as much composure as he could manage. "Hey, 'Lena. Didn't know you were gonna wait up for me."

"Nate?" she squeaked, her voice cracking partly from shock and partly from having just woken up. "Oh my god, what happened?"

Nate winced and started walking toward the kitchen. "Ah, I guess it doesn't take a psychopath with a grandiose scheme to take over the world to get out a gun and start shooting when you're on his property and in process of trying to rob him."

Elena, who had been left behind at the door when he started walking away, suddenly came to grips with the situation and ran and grabbed him by his uninjured shoulder. "Where do you think you're going? Go sit down at the table, and I'll get some bandages." Giving him a gentle shove in the direction of the dining room table, Elena rushed to the kitchen and opened one of the cabinets. Reaching inside, she pulled out an old ammunition box Nate had bought at an army surplus store and brought it to the table, setting it down beside Nate, who had just deflated on one of the wooden chairs. "Now let's just get this shirt off of you..."

Nate taking his hand away was accompanied by the sticky sound of blood that had grown tacky and begun gluing his skin together. He winced at the sensation of tearing his hand away from the wound, and then helped Elena pull his shirt up and over his head to be tossed aside on the hardwood floor. The wound was deep and not especially clean, having ragged edges where it entered in the muscular top part of his arm and exited a few inches back, by his left shoulder blade. She was relieved to see the exit wound- the last thing she wanted to have to do was dig a bullet out of his body right now.

Popping the latch on the ammunition box, she hinged the lid open and retrieved some antiseptic wipes, tearing open the paper package. "Now hold still," she said softly. "This is going to hurt a little." He hissed as the alcohol made contact with his raw flesh and turned his head to the side, biting his lip against the pain. Elena flipped the wipe to a clean side and went over the wound again, then threw it on top of his shirt and pulled out a second wipe to clean the exit point. "There!" she announced, returning to the ammo box to pull out a roll of bandages. "We'll get this all wrapped up, and then it's time for you to go to bed." Nate sat obediently still and stared at the far wall of the living room as she wrapped the bandages around his chest and shoulder.

Reaching the end of the roll, Elena tugged gently on the bandage, pulling it snug, and then secured it with a butterfly clip. She sighed wearily and leaned back in her chair, glumly examining her handiwork. "Nate," she groaned, "how many times are we going to be in this situation of me patching you up after a job gone sour before you wake up to just how dangerous this is? If that bullet had hit you just a little bit further to the left, that would have been it!"

Nate's lowered his gaze, shamefaced. "I know, Elena. I know." There was a moment of silence where he collected his thoughts, and then he continued. "I just want to be everything that you expected me to be, ya know, when we got married..." He looked up at her, searching for understanding. "I want to get us a decent place to live, so we're not always stuck in this dive. I want to give you a good life, provide for you," he shrugged limply. "I guess just- be a man for you!"

"You don't have to spend all your time getting shot at to be a man!" Elena protested, inadvertently raising her voice. "We've been over this before, Nate. There's about a thousand and one ways you could make a living for us that wouldn't involve the kind of risk you put up with on a daily basis. I know you're a hero, Nate. You don't have to do this to prove something to me. At some point you have to be honest with yourself." She narrowed her eyes slightly, her tone becoming more pointed. "What is it that you really want?"

Nate steadily held her gaze, then suddenly stood up, nearly knocking his chair over. "Maybe I'm afraid, 'dyou ever think of that?" he asked, his own volume level rising in response to the foreign and frightening prospect of actually baring his soul to another person. "The man you fell in love with was fighting zombies and weird yeti guardians and psychopathic war criminals, and maybe I'm afraid that you won't like average Joe, nine-to-five Drake as much as you think you will. Maybe I'm afraid that if I just settle for being an average guy in a world of average guys that someday we'll find out that it's really true, that all it takes for evil to triumph is for good men to do nothing." He scoffed lightly. "Maybe I'm afraid that I won't like average Joe me."

A bit taken aback by Nate's unprecedented display of emotion, Elena dialed back the intensity as she softly replied, "Nate, I fell in love with you not because you were the type of man who would go toe-to-toe with Lazarevich, but because you were the type of man who wouldn't leave Jeff the cameraman behind even when it cost you." She looked at him earnestly. "That's the hero I love you for being Nate. That's all I'm asking for, is to know you'll be there."

Nate looked at her with seething turmoil on his face. "So saving Jeff is fine, but saving the world is a different story?" He shook his head angrily. "I don't know, Elena."

As he stormed off to their room, Elena sighed and rested her chin in her hand, tapping it with her index finger and frowning. She facepalmed, shaking her head wearily, then rose and walked into the kitchen to make some breakfast.

Nate burst out of the narrow squeeze at the entrance to the passage, emerging into the misty darkness of the hours before dawn. Immediately he was driven back by raking machine gun fire, and he pressed himself against the side of the mountain as an armored Hum-Vee with a turret mounted on top drove by. He felt someone bump into him as the others of their group piled up behind him at the entrance, and he stepped out again, gun drawn and ready, just as a black armored truck pulled up and stopped several yards away, broadside facing him. The heavily-tinted window rolled down and Floki's face appeared, grinning like a cat.

"Thanks for the tour guide, Drake!" he bellowed, rolling down the back window to reveal Ming jie who was bound, gagged, and panic-stricken. "Him and these photos should really come in handy!" Floki added, waving Ming's phone out the window nonchalantly.

"Give him back, you bastard!" Nate shouted, raising his gun to point at the burly Scandinavian.

Ming's window began to roll back up as Floki continued carelessly, "While you're in town, try the Sake, I hear it's delicious!" As his window began to roll up, he closed with a, "Goodbye, Drake." At the last moment a grenade came flying out, landing right in front of Nate, and the truck accelerated away, sending turf flying in its wake.

"GET BACK!" Nate screamed, shoving the gang back into the tunnel as he dove for cover. The boom was deafening, and Nate shielded his head with his hands as shrapnel rained down around him. He groaned and pushed himself to his feet, coughing on the dust cloud that was left in the wake of the explosion, and staggered out of the tunnel again.

"Son of a- cough- bitch!" he growled, staring after the retreating convoy. Turning on his heel, he sprinted to the SUV along with the others. Elena ended up wedged in between Nate and Sully in the backseat while Charlie rode shotgun and Chloe fell into the driver's seat with a hiss of pain as her arm that had been shot banged up against the console. Throwing her seat belt on for good measure, Chloe spun the wheel and pegged the accelerator to the floor, and the SUV lurched to life, sliding around the corner of the outcropping and then racing after Floki's gang, the tail lights of which were now just tiny dots in the far distance. The engine drone became a roar as the tires left the grass behind in favor of the paved roads, momentarily breaking traction on the wet blacktop before picking up speed. In the rear view mirror, Nate saw Chloe's eyes flick up and then back down, and they narrowed as she spoke, "Nate! We've got a tail!"

He twisted to see out the back window. Sure enough, another armored Hummer was swooping in behind them like a hawk diving for its prey, the silhouette of a person with a submachine gun hanging out the back window bearing witness to their intentions.

"Aw, shit!" Nate cursed. He pulled out his 9 mil and reached for a fresh clip until Charlie stopped him.

"Here, mate," he said, handing him the AK-47 Chloe had taken from the thug down in the lab. "No time for child's play."

Nate managed a grin. "Thanks." He slung the strap sloppily around one shoulder, braced the butt against his chest, and leaned out the window. The wind whipped through his hair and made him squint as he lifted the gun to line up a shot toward their opponents that were shrouded in the shadows of the night. The thug in the Hummer beat him to it, opening fire a split second before he could, the muzzle of the gun flashing as it sprayed bullets in their direction. Nate gritted his teeth and squeezed the trigger, sending a volley of return fire.

The chatter of machine guns was stark against the still of the before dawn hours in Xi'an, blending with the roar of engines and the shouts of treasure hunters and revolutionaries alike as they carried out their deadly game of hunter and hunted, with Chloe swerving crazily on the empty road to make themselves a more difficult target and the Hummer doing its best to run them off. Nate emptied his magazine and ducked inside the car to reload, breathing deeply to calm his nerves before he leaned out to continue the fight.

" Shoot the tires, Nate!" Sully coached.

"I've already tried!" Nate shouted back. "They're bullet-proof!"

"Of course," Chloe said darkly. "The whole bloody thing's armored! Why wouldn't they be?" She hissed again and took one hand off the wheel to squeeze her bicep where blood was pouring freely down her arm. Noticing the large, dark stain on her jacket, Charlie looked at her with concern.

"You going to be alright, love?"

Chloe chuckled and smiled bravely. "Never better."

The SUV drifted into a sharp ninety-degree turn and bolted between two buildings. They were now coming into the city and had only gained slightly on Floki's truck, and Chloe knew that she had to cover some ground before they got into the more dense traffic of downtown.

"Where are we going?" Elena asked, slightly alarmed.

"On a shortcut, love," Chloe replied in her signature way-too-breezy-for-the-circumstances tone.

The rpm's pegged out and the engine roared again as she floored it down an alley, spraying water on both sides as they splashed through a deep puddle. They were nearly back to the main street when Floki's armored truck flashed by.

"There he goes!" Nate exclaimed, having joined them back in the cab again while Chloe's "shortcut" bought him a temporary breather.

"I see him!" Chloe said through gritted teeth as she piloted the SUV into another hairpin turn onto the main road, emerging close to thirty yards behind the truck. A moment later, the Hum-Vee with the turret dropped back behind the truck and swiveled to open fire on them, causing Chloe to swerve into the opposite lane behind the protection of a median. At the same time, the other Hummer with the machine gunner reappeared behind them, and Nate groaned and put his AK-47 back out the window to return fire. A horn sounded angrily as Chloe, still driving them down the wrong lane of traffic, dodged around an oncoming car, and Nate recoiled for a moment as they passed each other. Another burst of fire from the turret caused them to weave erratically, and traffic cones and barrels went flying as they were caught in the crossfire. One of the cones bounced off the windshield with a thud, spiderwebbing the glass before falling to the side.

"Oh, just perfect!" Chloe muttered.

Nate squeezed off another burst gunfire at the Hummer, the but of the gun juddering against his body while the edge of the car window cut into the bottom of his ribcage. He felt the SUV swerve again, throwing him harder against his door, and he growled in frustration at the seemingly impermeable menace behind them- not to mention the two others in front of them. As he lined up for another shot, he was startled by Chloe screaming, "Nate! GET IN NOW!"

He turned to see two semi trucks neck-and-neck coming straight at them, air horns blaring in alarm and moving as far to the sides of the road as they could. "OH GOD!" Nate yelled as he pulled himself back inside.

Jaw clenched and knuckles white, Chloe guided the little car between the two behemoths with so little room to spare that the driver's mirror got knocked off in the process. It was all of a split-second and they had passed, somehow safely, and were on open road again. Charlie, who was gripping the door handle and the console like they were his lifeline, looked over at Chloe with a pale face. "Might I note that now would be a lovely time to get back in the correct lane?" he understated.

"Couldn't agree more," Chloe answered, still a bit shaken herself.

At some point Nate realized that he had shut his eyes, and apparently Sully had too, since he heard him comment, "Heaven looks a lot more like Cleveland than I expected."

The ratta-tat-tat of automatic gunfire brought focus back to the fact that they were not yet out of the woods. "And, like Cleveland, it has a lot more gunfire than I would have expected," Nate quipped as he reluctantly leaned out the window again. After firing just a few more rounds the gun clicked, signaling that it had just run dry. "Charlie! I need more ammo!" Nate shouted as he slumped back against the seat.

"Fresh out," Cutter replied, twisting in his seat to look back. Another barrage of bullets swept across their tail and Chloe jerked the wheel to try to avoid it. "You'll have to try something else," he said.

Nate frowned and then growled, and, in an act of pure desperation, held the AK-47 out the window with both hands and hurled it behind them. He watched as the weapon spun through the air and struck the windshield of the Hummer, and was surprised when the glass shattered and it struck the driver, causing him to lose control of the vehicle. The Hummer swerved first one way, than the other before plowing into the end of a concrete median wall with a terrific crash, the impact causing it to flip end for end into the air.

"Chloe! Go right!" Nate screamed.

She swerved just as the Hummer crashed down onto the blacktop where they had been moments before, landing on its roof in a terrific display of grinding, squealing metal and sparks. The flaming and twisted pile of scrap metal continued to spin and slide from its momentum, the tortured metal screaming as it skidded across their path, causing Chloe to slow the vehicle to dodge around it. Flames lapped at the wreckage, the glow dancing on the SUV and the faces of those inside as Chloe guided the car around it by riding up on the sidewalk.

"That was way too close," the Australian commented. General nods of agreement came from the others in the vehicle. Once they were clear she gave it some gas and they began to pick up speed again towards the truck, which had just vanished over the top of a small hill. The engine note rose and fell as it rapidly shifted gears under the hard-driving foot of Chloe Frazer, and in moments they too crested the hill and began the descent on the other side.

"They turned at that sign ahead!" Cutter said emphatically, pointing to a lighted parking garage sign.

Chloe whipped the car around the corner with the help of the hand brake and they found themselves facing a fork with one side leading to parking garage "A" and the other to garage "B". "Any votes? We're taking votes!" Chloe said hurriedly as they approached the fork. A garbled cacophony of suggestions chorused from the back seat until Cutter's voice cut through with a decisive "B!" Chloe jerked the wheel at the last second and then rammed the gas pedal to the floor. Tires squealed as she drifted the car around corners, narrowly missing parked cars and support pillars, in a frenetic descent through the levels. As they rounded the corner onto level three particularly quickly, the back passenger's side clipped a fire extinguisher and caused it to discharge its contents.

"Hey!" Sully said. "I thought you were the best driver in the business!"

"I am," Chloe said flatly. "This is what 'best driver in the business' looks like under the circumstances."

"What would worst driver look like?" Elena asked dryly.

Chloe smirked. "Very, very dead."

Still no sign of the truck, and there was only two more floors to go. As they sped down the open edge facing the opposite garage, Nate glanced up and happened to spot the armored juggernaut speeding down a line of cars on the floor above them, clearly not making quite as good of time as Chloe.

"Hey, Stop! He's over there!" he shouted. Chloe slammed on the breaks and the SUV fishtailed as it broke traction before coming to a halt.

"What?" she demanded.

"We took the wrong garage," Nate said. "They're over there!" As the truck smashed its way past an expensive sports car, Nate suddenly had an idea, and acted before he even had time to think about it. Throwing open the car door, Nate scurried to the concrete barricade at the edge of the parking garage as his companions shouted at him to stop. Jumping up on the wall, he leaped out into space, managed to grab the perimeter wall of the opposite garage with one hand, and was left dangling in the cool early morning air, forty feet off the ground in a random garage in Xi'an, until he reached up with his other hand and pulled himself to safety. Heaving himself onto the top of the wall, he paused in a crouch. He was ready to make his move, breathing in deep lungfuls of the misty dawn and scanning the dimly-lit garage for the current location of the truck.

And that's when it came. Multiple tons of careening metal, smashing its way through its surroundings like a heavily-armored bull in a China shop, and it was coming right at him.

"Oh shit," Nate barely had time to say before it drifted into a turn, its rear corner smashing into the barricade he was perched on just as he leaped up. The combined physics of it all sent Nate tumbling over the side of the bed, landing at the feet of an equally shell-shocked thug who was clinging on for dear life in the back of the truck. For a moment the rear passenger's side dual wheels spun in the air as they hung just over the side of the parking garage, then the all-wheel drive vehicle clawed its way back onto the pavement and continued its crazed journey to the ground, with the Hum-Vee close behind.

Nate clutched his forehead and rolled over with a groan. Two strong hands grabbed him by the front of his shirt, hauled him to his feet, and then punched him in the face, sending him staggering backward. He collapsed from shock, catching himself on the tailgate as he landed on his rear end with his knees bent. The thug rushed him, and Nate struck out with one booted foot, kicking him back against the back of the cab. Pushing himself to his feet, Nate raised his fists to meet his opponent but stopped and turned at a noise behind him. The turret on the Hum-Vee was lining up for a lethal shot, the grinning thug at the other end staring down the barrel at him, and Nate panicked, glancing quickly over his shoulder at the goon coming up behind him. Caught between a rock and a hard place, Nate took his only available course of action: he jumped.

The hood of the Hum-Vee flexed under the impact of Nate bouncing off of it and then sliding down. There was a whoosh, the turret discharged its shot, and there was a cry as the thug in the back of the truck took the bullet meant for Nate, who was now clinging to the grill of the Hum-Vee while his heels skipped and bounced as they drug on the pavement. He pulled himself up, only to slip back down with a grunt when the suspension dipped and the vehicle suddenly leveled out as it exited the parking garage onto the street again. Clenching his jaw, Nate lifted himself up again until he could see over the top of the hood and was looking down at the animatedly shouting and gesticulating goons in the cab as the driver pointed at him and the other drew a gun. Moving quickly, Nate whipped out his pistol and fired before the other man had a chance, and the goon in the passenger's seat slumped down lifelessly. The knuckles of Nate's left hand were white from clutching the grill; with his right hand he determinedly jammed his gun back into his shoulder holsters and then grabbed hold of the hood and threw himself up onto the front of the car. A jolt shook his body and the Hum-Vee entered a suspension bridge, its tires making a throbbing sound as they crossed the separate plates that formed the deck of the bridge, and the moonlight shining through the superstructure cast a strobe light effect on Nate as he struggled across the front of the rapidly moving vehicle. Then they were suddenly off the other end, and the driver took advantage of the wider range to swerve sharply to the left. "Whooooaaa!" Nate cried as the centrifugal force of the turn sent him sliding across the slick metal of the hood. He fell off the side, barely managing to wrap his arms around the mirror as he did, and he struggled to pull himself up again. Biting his lip with the effort of holding on, Nate glanced up and noticed the passenger's window was open. He made a face and sighed at his own thoughts.

"Desperation... is the mother of... STUPIDITY!" he grunted, flinging himself upward with the last word of his sentence. Grabbing on to the rack on the top of the Hum-Vee, he planted his feet in the center of the door panel just below the open window, then pushed off with his feet while keeping his grip on the rack. His return swing sent him rocketing through the window to plant his boots squarely against the side of the driver's head, smashing him against the inside of the door and sending the vehicle veering off course. There was a sound like a gunshot, and the whole vehicle popped up on its rear tires before crashing down again and grinding to a halt.

Nate groaned, sprawled out across the front seat with his legs on top of the unconscious driver. Slowly he lifted himself up and peered out the window before pulling the door handle and spilling out onto the road. He coughed as he staggered away from the Hum-Vee, then pulled out his pistol and turned around. "Heh," he scoffed with a wry grin, eying the six completely flat tires. "Road spikes. I think that's what you get for going the wrong way down a one way street!" Coughing again, he limped out onto an overpass they had crossed right after the bridge and stared down at the busy street below. "Now where did that truck go?" he muttered. He scanned the rows of traffic, bright lights and horns blaring as the people of Xi'an carried out their morning commute. Down the side rode a couple of stalwart bicyclists, and further down the road, coming his way, he spotted their forest-green SUV.

"Hey! There's the gang!" he murmured to himself. He holstered his gun and put his hands on his hips. "Now how to get down there?"

There was a scuffle behind him and Nate turned, eyes going wide as he saw the thug who had been at the turret barreling toward him. "Think I can help ya out with that!" the man snarled.

"Heyheyhey, easy," Nate blurted and backed against the barricade on the overpass, taken thoroughly by surprise. An instant later the goon's shoulder rammed into his chest and they both flopped over the barricade and plummeted toward the road below.

Nate was vaguely aware of the drone of multiple car horns sounding simultaneously as he fell with arms and legs flailing past the stark light of an overpass sign. His right shoulder collided with the roof of a semi truck hard enough to leave a dent in the sheet metal and he rolled sideways before falling again, and just managed to catch the edge with one hand. His body swung against the side of the truck, and he dangled groggily, almost lazily as he came to grips with this most recent turn of events. "Ughh. I am definitely gonna feel that one tomorrow," he moaned. Twisting around, he reached up with his free hand to grab the edge of the box but was met with the sole of a boot descending on him. "Whoa!" Nate said, switching hands to avoid getting his fingers crushed. "This is so not cool!" As the thug whirled around for another try, Nate threw himself a few more feet down the box and then hauled his aching body on top, raising his weary arms a moment too late and catching a uppercut to the jaw for his efforts. The punch laid him out flat dangerously close to the edge of the speeding semi, and Nate reacted quickly, rolling to dodge a foot that would have come down on his stomach. He scrambled to his feet and swung a wild right hook that connected with the thug's chin.

The two men weaved back and forth as they exchanged blows high on the top of the truck above the unsuspecting morning traffic of the city. Another punch to Nate's face sent him staggering backward, and he wiped blood from his mouth as he looked up. Just ahead, maybe two hundred feet, a road sign hung above the highway, low enough it would probably clear the truck by three feet at the most. Nate grinned and dropped flat to the roof, rolling to the side. In confusion the thug turned around just in time to hit the sign with a resounding clang and go flying off the back of the semi trailer. Nate pushed himself to his feet and looked back.

"Keep your eyes on the road, asshole," he quipped.

Suddenly there was a series of honks from nearby, and Nate looked over to see the SUV neck-and-neck with the truck, Sully leaning out the window. "D'ja call for a taxi?" the old man bellowed. Nate rushed to the front corner of the trailer and used the small fold-down steps to climb part way down the side, and then leaped over onto the top of the SUV, using the rack for a handhold. Leaning his head over the driver's side he yelled into Chloe's open window, "Catch that truck!"

"On my way!" she called back. Expertly veering between lanes and around other cars, Chloe quickly closed the distance between them and the Floki's truck and brought Nate up alongside the bed. "Go, Nate!" she screamed.

He didn't have to be told twice. Leaping through the air and landing once more in the bed of the truck, Nate approached the back of the cab and crouched at the corner. One of Floki's henchman leaned out the window with a pistol, but Nate grabbed his hand and yanked it out and down, causing him to drop the gun, then grabbed him by the collar and hauled him out of the vehicle. The goon gave a cry of surprise as he fell, and Nate swung into the window and landed on the back seat next to Ming jie.

It was then that he remembered he didn't really have a plan on what to do once he was in the vehicle. In the passenger's seat, Floki turned and looked at him, his bearded face twisting into a snarl. "You really are a rat, aren't you?" he roared. "And an overconfident one, at that!" Drawing a pistol and pointing it in Nate's face, he instructed his driver to bring them to the docks, adding in an aside to Nate, "The river is the best place to get rid of vermin."

Ming looked over at him and, despite his obvious terror, managed a snarky appraisal of the situation by asking, "So this was your grand plan? Get captured too?"

Nate frowned. "I'm not captured, I'm... rescuing you."

"And doing a damn good job, didn't you notice?" Floki mocked as the truck rattled onto the docks.

Nate glared daggers at him, then in a move that was quick as lightning he batted Floki's gun hand away toward the driver. The firearm discharged, killing the driver instantly, and Nate leaped forward while simultaneously keeping the gun pinned down with his left hand and driving his right elbow into Floki's face. With no one at the wheel, the truck veered off and crashed down on a barge that was tied up to the docks, causing it to rock violently and snapping the thick nylon mooring ropes, which snapped back like rubber bands. The barge tipped further and further as the heavy armored vehicle upset its balance until the truck slid off the side and sank in the river.

"Drake! I can't swim!" Ming screamed as water poured in through the open windows.

Perfect, Nate thought to himself. Gritting his teeth, he headbutted Floki to buy himself a moment and then grabbed Ming by the arm. "C'mon!" he managed to shout before the water drowned him out.

Wriggling through the window like a fish leaving an underwater cave, Nate then pulled Ming through after him, wrapped the young man's arms around his neck, and began to swim for the surface. His cheeks puffed out as he fought to hang onto his precious oxygen while still being strangled by Ming's deadweight, Nate's arms cut long, sweeping strokes through the murky water of the Yellow River, and through the gloom he could see Floki's bulky form also rising a little ways away, and making significantly quicker progress. He tried not to imagine the Scandinavian brute waiting to shoot them as soon as they came up and poured more steam into his efforts to reach the surface.

They breached next to the barge, now adrift and floating with the current, and Nate grabbed on with one hand while hurriedly heaving Ming up onto it with the other. True to his predictions, Floki was already up and storming across the barge with gun in hand, aiming to shoot Nate in the head. Taking comfort in the fact that the burly revolutionary wanted Ming alive, Nate quickly dove under the water again just before the shot rang out, hitting the spot where he had just been.

Nate paddled determinedly, ducking under the float and swimming across the breadth of the barge, the light that filtered down from the flood lamps on the dock affording him limited visibility of his surroundings as indistinct shapes and silhouettes in the swirling water around him. The muffled sounds of two more gunshots, one of which he saw trailing lazily through the water in front of him, told him that Floki was taking pot shots in the dark. He turned and headed for the surface on the back corner.

In one motion Nate broke the surface and flung himself onto the barge, rolling on his side and firing a shot in Floki's general direction to cover for himself. He saw the burly man take cover behind a crate, and Nate pushed himself up on one elbow, firing another shot from the hip that blew a hole in the float on the opposite side of the barge. With a hiss and a boom the float exploded, causing a blinding spray of water and making the barge lurch to one side. Ming screamed as the deck tilted haphazardly and the lower half of his body was suddenly submerged in water, and Nate reached out to grab his hand. The angle caused a set of gas bottles to tip over, and they rolled down the barge, one of them smashing into the crate that Floki was still halfway crouched behind, while the other one got caught in a trough in the deck. Knocked over by the bottle and the crate, Floki tumbled down into the boiling torrent that had swallowed half of the barge, only just barely managing to grab onto a grate and keep himself above water. On the other end, Nate scrambled to his feet with Ming in tow, and he glanced over at his adversary. Noticing the entrapped gas bottle, Nate impulsively raised his pistol to point at it, and in the next instant he locked eyes with the Icelander.

"Sayanora, sucker," he deadpanned. Floki's eyes went wide and he slipped under the water with impressive speed. Shoving Ming off in front of him, Nate leaped off the barge at the same time as he pulled the trigger. His splash in the water was drowned out by the deafening explosion of the gas bottle, and the shock waves pushed the pair towards the docks. Clinging to the ironwork on the underside of the docks, Nate drug Ming and himself to the top and flopped over on the rough wood, panting and wheezing. After a moment Nate willed his aching body to stand and turned and looked out over the river. The wreckage of the barge had all vanished beneath the surface, leaving only choppy, confused waves and some flaming debris scattered on the dock as evidence of the events that had just unfolded. Nate heaved a deep breath, inhaling the smell of fish and co2, and strained his eyes into the darkness. Sure enough, across the river he saw a hulking figure drag itself out of the water; standing on the bank, the form turned to face him for a brooding moment and then trudged away into the dawn.

The hum of an engine and the clatter of tires on wood drew Nate and Ming's attention, and he turned to see Chloe and the gang piling out of the SUV and running down the dock toward them. One figure outpaced the others, arriving at Nate's side a good three seconds ahead.

"Nate!" Elena threw her arms around his neck and buried her face in his chest. Even with his sopping wet clothes and the dim lighting, Nate could tell she was crying. "Oh my god, I thought you had died. You scared the shit out of me! How are you not dead?"

Nate chuckled and tried on a joke in hopes to lighten the mood. "Oh, just me bein' me, Elena."

Elena pulled away and looked at him in the eyes, her expression shifting from relief to betrayal so quickly and suddenly it left Nate scrambling mentally to keep up with what was happening. "How long are you going to do this to me? To us?" she asked- or maybe accused- her voice raising as she vented at her husband. "Why is this stuff so important to you that you have to drag everyone around the globe, putting everyone's lives at stake so that you can get to some kind of treasure first?" Her glistening eyes narrowed at him and she took a half step back. "Nate, I love you, but I don't know how long I can do this. This kind of life is no way to carry on a healthy relationship." She shook her head. "Something's gotta give, Nate."

Nate's eyes searched her, his suddenly forlorn and morose soul in a turmoil of bewilderment and frustration. Something in Elena's face told him that he had hurt her very badly, and he wanted to feel bad, he really did. Kind of. But his pride bristled, and instead of an apology he heard his voice spewing harshly. "What did you expect me to do, let him die?" he yelled, motioning to Ming jie. He saw the Sully, Chloe, and Charlie standing apart from the conflict, shuffling awkwardly and looking at their feet. "I may be a thief, but I do still have some moral obligations to fulfill, 'Lena."

She stared back at him, anger seething in her eyes and her lips pursed to speak. "No one drug you into this, Nathan," she said slowly and in a low voice. A few silent moments passed with unbearable tension, then finally she spoke again. "I'm going home, Nate. I've got a lot to do to get ready for my new job." She turned and began to walk away, adding over her shoulder, "I'd hate to hold you up, so I'll just call a taxi. I'll see you when you get back to the States."

For two whole minutes, silence reigned supreme save for the soft padding of Elena's retreating footsteps. Then even they were gone, and then only the occasional splish of the river meekly broke the deafening quiet as Nate stood motionless and staring off into nothingness and his companions tried to give him a moment out of respect.

"Nate?" Chloe finally dared to ask. "You okay?"

Nate's jaw became a hard-set line and his eyes narrowed slightly. "Yeah," he said darkly. "Never better."

"C'mon, mate," Charlie said, abandoning all pretense of deference. "You know that's not true. Liars go to Parliament."

"And then to hell," Sully chimed in.

"I'm fine," Nate repeated sternly. "We've got work to do. Let's go." He started walking down the dock until a hand grabbed his shoulder and he was turned to face Chloe.

"Nate," she said, voice low and full of compassion. "No one will think any less of you if you need time to go talk to her. She's your wife, mate."

"She'll cool down," he butt in and shrugged her hand off of him, then turned heel and kept walking. "Let's get Ming back to his house."

After dropping Ming jie off at his place, the four remaining treasure hunters continued their drive back to the hotel in the same silence that had been looming over them since the docks. Attempting to make small talk to ease the tension, Sully began rambling in a subdued tone, "Too bad we don't have time to see what we can get from that Xu Fu's place. There's probably a lot of valuable stuff in there, what with everything they took from the emperor's tomb. A real siphoning job, that was. Heh, that's what I call robbing Peter to pay Paul!"

This was followed by a moment's silence, and then Charlie suddenly whipped around to look at Sully. "What'd you say, mate? That last part."

Sully looked at him blankly. "Robbing Peter to pay Paul? It's an expression-"

"Yeah, yeah, I know what it means. That phrase has been around since before your people even got on the Mayflower," Cutter said dismissively. Looking at Nate with a twinkle in his eye, he said, "I think I know where the Chapel of the Moon is."

Nate raised an eyebrow. "Oh yeah?"

"Yeah," Cutter said. "Let's get ourselves the next flight to London."

Chapter Text

"So this is it, huh?" Nate said skeptically. "This is the chapel of the moon?"

Chloe squinted and held up a hand to shield her eyes from the sun. "I would've expected it to be a bit less... public?"

The four treasure hunters were standing on Ludgate Hill in London, coffees- and, in Cutter's case, pastries- in hand. Before them rose the beautiful St. Paul's cathedral: two wings stretched to either side with spires at the extreme ends, embellished with sculpted sculpted saints and religious figures, their watchful eyes staring down at passers-by, and surging up in the middle into a lovely arrangement of cornices, a colonnade, and a balcony fringed with stone balustrades before finally rising to the grand main dome, with its spire scraping the clouds at an impressive 365 feet up. Nate had seen it before, but it never failed to amaze.

"Well," Cutter said, licking his thumb as he polished off the rest of his pastry, "it's not as if it's just sitting out in the open, probably. Here's the thing," he shoved his hands deep into the pockets of his leather jacket. "There's a theory that, before the cathedral, there was a temple to Diana here: the Roman goddess of hunting and of the moon, analogous to Artemis for the Greeks." He grinned in a way that suggested he was hoping for a compliment on his detective skills.

"Well, Sherlock," Chloe said, throwing him a very sarcastic bone. "So you think Newton was secretly some kind of Diana-cult adherent now, too?"

Cutter scoffed and looked offended by the idea. "What? No, I think he probably re-purposed an existing secret chamber for his top-secret alchemy gig."

Nate, gaze still uplifted toward the dome, pitched his head to one side and put his hands on his hips. "It's a plausible theory," he said in an upbeat tone.

"Especially compared to mine," Sully said around his cigar, sporting his typical green Havana shirt with several buttons undone. He plucked the cigar from his mouth and tapped it several times. "I was really scraping bottom: down to either contacting NASA or robbing the Moonlight Diner back home."

Nate chuckled to himself and rolled his eyes. He was dressed in a gray thermal Henley and dark blue jeans with Converse shoes, but noticed that, despite the presence of many of his regular wardrobe staples, he felt kind of naked without his shoulder holsters. Oh well, it wouldn't do to go charging in to some important public monument looking all conspicuous. He pulled out his journal and flipped through the pages until he found a copy of the note Newton had made about the chapel of the moon. It was right across from a drawing he had made of the puzzle in Xu Fu's lab: a caricatured sketch of the five of them staring in cartoonish awe at some gibberish writing and symbols that was being cast by a short and plump Chinese man with a goatee and dressed in a goofy-looking version of period-correct robes who was making shadow figures on the wall by holding his hands in front of a flashlight. He read the lines of writing copied from Newton's journal, then closed the book and stuck it back in his pocket.

"Well?" he said. "Let's get going."

Fortunately for them, there did not seem to be very many people visiting St. Paul's that day. The few that were were obviously tourists and not prone to being suspicious of a small group of four being a little extra nosy. As they wandered through, Nate ran his eyes over the gilded, Baroque-style details of the interior all the way up to the arched ceiling, and followed it down toward the nave. He felt in good spirits that day- in some ways it had been easier since Elena left. Not because she was gone, per se, but because it distanced him from the problem and allowed him to lose himself in the job at hand. He scowled, suddenly realizing how unhealthy that sounded.

"All right, mate?" Chloe asked cheerily.

"Uhm," Nate gave her a sideways glance. "Yeah, I'm fine," he mumbled, and pushed the thought to the back of his brain.

"So if you were going to hide a secret room in this place," Cutter postulated, "it would probably not be on the ground floor."

"...it would be in the crypt," Sully finished thoughtfully.

"Right."

Chloe's eyes were alight as she said, "Well then, let's get down there."

They quickly found the stairs and made their way down to the lower level of the cathedral: the crypt, where, despite the relative brightness of everything, a slightly more Gothic feel in the flare around the top of the many columns seemed to serve as a tribute to the creepy images that the word "crypt" generated in Nate's mind. As they passed a sarcophagus that was enshrined on a pedestal, Sully commented wryly, "Ahh, Lord Nelson, I presume?"

"Ha-ha, that's funny!" Nate shot back.

Eventually the group split up into pairs, more so organically than by a spoken agreement, and soon Nate and Sully were standing by themselves in front of the tomb of Christopher Wren, examining the words written on the wall above. "'Lector, si monumentum requiris, circumspice'," Sully stumbled through the Latin.

"'Reader, if you seek his monument, look around you' ," Nate interpreted. They exchanged a glance.

"D'ya think it's a clue?" Sully asked.

"No idea." Nate turned with his hands on his hips and swept his gaze over his surroundings, half expecting something to stand out from their current vantage point. He was interrupted by Chloe, who came up in a hurry.

"Nate, you might want to see this," she said, her voice low but urgent. She led them to an obscure corner of the crypt where there was a small alcove that was obviously not well-frequented. Immediately, Nate picked up on the subtle difference from the surrounding areas, but Chloe explained it anyway. "This wall," she said, motioning to the back of the alcove, "it's plaster, unlike the rest of the walls which are stone. And it looks like the application was rushed, or maybe an afterthought. Like someone was trying to cover something."

Nate frowned as he examined it. "You're right. It does look suspicious." He glanced around to make sure no one else was nearby to see them. "Maybe we should try pulling some off- see what's back there."

He and Chloe dug their fingers into cracks in the plaster and began pulling off chunks, and almost immediately froze at the sight of what they uncovered. Small blue-green tiles, maybe six inches by six inches, each with the Argead star painted in gold peeked out at them from the exposed areas, teasing them with the excitement of what lay beyond. "Holy shit!" Nate breathed.

"Come on, let's keep going!" Chloe urged.

They continued to claw at the plaster until it all lay in a heap on the floor, and a wall covered top to bottom in the little tiles stood before them, gleaming in the ambient light from the crypt. Nate's eyes roamed up and down it, his mind turning over ideas to answer the question Sully asked aloud- "What now?"

Chloe hummed. Nate answered tentatively, "I think... it's something about finding the right tiles." He pointed to a couple of them. "See how they're all different? Some have eight points, some twelve, some sixteen. Some only have six." He pulled Newton's journal out of his back pocket and flipped to the page with the star illustration, and carefully counted the rays. "The one in the journal has sixteen."

"Maybe there's a lever," Chloe suggested. Cautiously, she reached forward and pushed on one of the sixteen-point stars. At first it didn't give, but she leaned into it and the tile sank into the wall about a half inch.

"Good call, Chloe," Nate praised, and reached to push another tile in.

They continued pressing tiles until they were down to the last sixteen-point star, and Nate paused with his hand hovering just above it and looked at Charlie. "What do you think happens when we push this last one?"

Cutter rolled his shoulders and considered. "Well, either a door will open up in the wall and let us through-"

"Or?" Nate prodded.

Cutter shrugged. "Or a door will open up in the floor and let you through."

Chloe took a nervous step back from the wall, and Nate looked betrayed. "Well," he muttered, "here goes nothing." As he reached to push the tile with one hand he grabbed the end of Sully's mustache like a lifeline with the other, only to have it gruffly swatted away by a rather unimpressed Sully. The tile slid into the wall like the others, there was a thud, and then the entire end wall suddenly rotated, rolling aside on a giant wheel, and left an open doorway in its stead. "Ha," Nate said triumphantly. "Open ses-"

"Ah-ah," Charlie cut him off by shaking a finger in his face. "Still not the right place for that line."

Nate smirked but shut his mouth. Together, the foursome looked through the new doorway and into a dank stairwell that was as narrow as it was dark, and draped with cobwebs like it was some sort of set piece for an old horror film. Charlie flicked on his flashlight and shone it down the passage, the light spilling over stone steps that were eroded and worn smooth by hundreds of years of condensation and leeched ground water, before finally being swallowed by the deep and ominous gloom.

"Right," Cutter said with forced cheer. "Good job, Nate. As a reward, you can go first."

"Hey, it wasn't even me that-" Nate began defensively as he pulled out his own flashlight and started walking.

Their footsteps resounded in the claustrophobic, all-stone confines of the stairwell as they descended into the blackness in a gradually twisting spiral that eventually let them out at a stone arch, painted with images of the goddess Diana in various scenes from Roman mythology. Through the arch they entered a large, square room with a circular pit in the middle, recessed about three feet with shallow stairs all the way around its circumference. An altar or pedestal of some type stood in the center of the pit, and directly above it was a matching cupola. Nate's flashlight picked out several torch sconces on the walls, and he turned to Sully.

"Hey, can you-"

"Yeahhh, I got it," Sully muttered, pulling out his Zippo and making a circuit around the room to light them.

Nate and Charlie put their flashlights away and strode toward the central pedestal, taking note of a statue of Diana that had been toppled to the ground to make room for a spread of books and maps that now occupied the stone platform, resulting in the goddess' head and left arm having broken off. "Old boy Newton wasn't very respectful of ancient religions, looks like," Cutter commented.

"Well," Nate said, putting his hands on his hips, "he was a devout Christian, so probably that didn't lend itself to holding the Greek or Roman gods in very high esteem."

Chloe nodded. "I'll take you're word for it."

With a quizzical glance, Nate asked her, "What's that supposed to mean?"

"Well, you're the one who grew up in a Catholic boy's home."

"At least I never joined the choir-"

"Hey, hey, the papers, anybody?" Sully suggested, stepping up to the altar.

Nate paused in mid-comeback, looking sheepish. "Oh, right. The papers." He turned back to the pedestal and picked up the nearest sheet before setting it down again and picking up another. "This is definitely Newton's stuff," he remarked.

Chloe, meanwhile, was tracing a finger across the map on the table, and spoke up, "Yeah, and I think I've got the answer to which of Alexander's cities we're looking for." Her finger came to rest on a point in Egypt and she lifted her eyes. "Alexandria."

Nate let out a huff under his breath and rolled his eyes. "Of course," he muttered to himself.

"What's that, mate?" Charlie inquired.

Ignoring him, Nate finished scanning the parchment he was holding and announced, "This one's from Aristotle himself. Listen to this: I am afraid our quest has been poisoned by greed...Would that men chose virtue over power! But it is not to be with all, as proven by my friend and comrade and student Antipater, who, after helping me to subdue Alexander to keep him from fulfilling his lust for power, saw the terrible terrible outcome of the cursed stone's influence and still could not restrain himself from partaking of its bitter water. Oh, that he had only listened! For now I have been forced to abandon him along with those of the League who accompanied him, and we will seal the entrance to this accursed city and scatter the remnants of the trail abroad, in hopes of deterring any more dishonorable people from its discovery. If my strength permits, I and the remaining loyal from the Corinthians must make it to Alexandria to destroy the map left by Alexander, though I fear my time is drawing short. May the gods deal justice to all who seek the stone that is in Atlantis!" Nate trailed off.

"Sounds like he's talking about the League of Corinth," Chloe said.

"Yeah, that checks out," Cutter added. "That star was, I think, one of their symbols, and like we said before, eternal life is about the greatest military boon you could ever hope for, so it makes sense the League would want to be in on this."

"That's why that Argead star has seemed so familiar all this time!" Nate exclaimed, his eyes flashing. "I should have known."

"And seems like Aristotle and Antipater were involved with the dirty work of making sure Alexander got discontinued, after all," Cutter noted.

"'Discontinued?'" Chloe raised an eyebrow.

"What about the whole thing with the stone?" Sully wondered aloud.

Nate, having put down the parchment and picked up another sheet of yellowed paper, traced the first few line of print with his eyes and then began reading without introduction, "I am very near now, I think, to finding the stone, that most base of all elements, which will grant abundantly greater insight into the mysteries of my alchymical quandaries, and, yes, even life itself. For if I shall only live long enough to find the "temple of Shu" told of by Aristotle and Alexander, then my journey is all but complete. Only, this is what others would find fault for: Even now, there are those who say my search is "misguided", "occult", and "apostate", wishing to keep me from such dyscovery- indeed, even threatening violence and personal harm to me! God spare my life, and I shall find that elixir of life and, at the least, prove that mine were not the rantings of a madman, and at the best that we may still live forever. Sir Isaac Newton."

Silence hung, thick with the implications of the note and the repercussions of it. Charlie was the first to brave the resulting lull, saying in a voice that was low and grim, "I guess he never was able to prove his point, poor bloke. To many, he died the ranting madman, as far as his alchemy was concerned."

"A little boy by the seashore finding the shinier pebble," Chloe added. The others nodded, understanding the reference.

Sully frowned. "You don't think he, uh, ya' know, got..." He drug a finger across his throat in a slashing motion.

Chloe raised her eyebrows. "Oh, that'd be rich. And insidious."

Nate suddenly scrubbed a hand across his face while he spun in a half-circle, and began agonizing as he paced back and forth. "Crap! The philosophers' stone! The League of Corinth! Shu! It's all so obvious, why didn't I see-"

"Whoa, whoa, wait!" Sully stopped him, holding up both hands. "Before you land too many kicks to your own nuts for whatever reason, why don't you explain that whole thing about Shu?"

"That whole thing about the path of the immortals being found from the void? Shu was the Egyptian god of the sky, wind, and the void. He was comparable to Atlas, in that he was often pictured as holding up the sky, and there's the ruins of a temple dedicated to him outside of Alexandria, and it, it's just so obvious, I should've-"

"Nate!" This time it was Chloe who cut him off mid-sentence. "Stop. Sully's right: stop beating yourself up. It's okay to not know everything. You're not the only one in the world, Nate." Nate seemed a little offended, but Chloe forged ahead. "You don't have to bear the load alone. Newton got where he did by standing on the shoulders of giants, and it's okay that it's the same for you. We haven't expected you to be able to tell us exactly what happened and where Atlantis will be. We'll figure this out together. Look, you haven't been at the top of your game, but it's fine. It's obvious why, and it's because you really need to go and talk to Elena. She's a saint, Nate, but she's afraid- terrified- to lose you. You just need to go and work things out-"

"Oh yeah, and just send a note to Floki and Garnier: 'hey guys, raincheck! I just need to go work stuff out with the wife, so if you could just save your plans to take over the world until I get back, that'd be great.'?" Nate's voice was cuttingly sarcastic.

"Nate." Chloe held up a pacifying hand. There was a time when she knew this conversation would have been conducted on the level of stray dogs: Nate barks, so she barks back. But Shambala had changed that. She felt like she understood just a little more where Nate was coming from, and what he really needed when he got like this. So instead, she calmly replied, "Nate, when it comes to history, you're the best I know. Really. But this-" she gestured to the map, "I think we can handle this while you take a quick break. Go home, do what you need to do, I'll even buy you a ticket- round trip, so you can come back when you're done." She pulled out her phone as if to prove a point that she would buy them on the spot. As she held the device to close to her face, Nate happened to catch a glance of the screen and instantly paled.

"Shit!" he cursed. The expletive came in a hiss and was quickly followed by many more uttered under his breath, then he suddenly announced, "We've got to get out of here!" Folding the papers he had read, despite the fact that one of them was a timeless parchment that was definitely not suited for folding, he stuffed them into his journal and turned to the door.

Chloe looked confused. "W-what? Nate, what's going on?"

"I said we've got to go," he repeated, sounding on the verge of panicked. He rushed for the stairs but pulled up short at the sounds that suddenly began echoing down them: that of footsteps and an unmistakable voice that carried down to them despite the fact it was clear it was intended to be a whisper.

"They must be down here! Get your guns ready. Men, stay alert!"

"Oh, god," Nate whispered.

"It's Floki," Sully breathed. "And we don't have any guns!"

Nate quickly glanced around and arrived at what seemed like the only viable option, which he quickly voiced to the others. "Hide. Somewhere good." His mouth formed a grim line. "We're gonna hope they don't find us."

Chapter Text

"Be ready men, they could be anywhere!" Floki appeared in the archway, pistol held at the ready, and was quickly followed by a half a dozen of his revolutionary supporters who fanned out across the room. They were all dressed in plain clothes, presumably to get into the cathedral without attracting attention, but all still managed to carry an air of deadly intent as they sighted down their guns into the shadows, turning first this way, then that in an attempt to locate the four treasure hunters. Mathis Garnier entered the room at the back of the group as Floki finally lowered his weapon, having spotted nothing of concern. "There's no one here," the Scandinavian man growled.

"Surprise, surprise," the slight Frenchman drawled behind him. "Looks like, once again, you brought us here just a step behind." He slipped through the crowd and walked pointedly to the center of the room and down the few steps to the altar. "Drake probably made off with whatever was here that was useful, too."

Up in the cupola, Nate's arms were already burning from holding himself in his precarious hiding spot: he was spread-eagle, with his fingers hooked on the cornice on one side of the cupola while his toes hooked the other, peering straight down at the top of Garnier's head as he stood at the altar. Nate's jaw was clenched and his core was tight as a drum with the effort the position took, and a drop of sweat trickled down Nate's forehead and quivered on the tip of his nose, threatening to fall down and give him away.

"What are you trying to say?" Floki rumbled, his eyebrows knitting together over his one good eye as he stepped toward his employer.

The bead of perspiration finally lost its battle with gravity and began to fall through the air toward the altar at the same time Garnier turned to face his hired help, and it splatted on the stone slab just to the side of the map. If Nate could have sighed with relief without revealing his postion, he would have.

"I mean what I said, Floki." Garnier spoke with a force that, while certainly different from his abashed demeanor when facing the brute in Iceland, still didn't quite check the box of "confidence". It seemed more born of frustration that had finally gotten to be too much to hide than a sudden boldness to hold his own. "So far, you've mostly managed to be something like Drake's personal shadow, accomplishing little more than following in his wake and causing a stir that is likely to get us all imprisoned before we make any progress. That is not what I had in mind when I heard you were a 'military man with an knack in history and lost treasure'." He looked scornfully at the bigger man, "Perhaps you should change your description of yourself to 'stalker with a penchant for firearms and explosives'."

Nate had to stifle a chuckle at Garnier's jab. Glancing over to the perimeter of the room, he could just make out the side of Chloe's face peeking out from behind one of the columns where she and the other two had hidden.

"Oh yes?" Floki asked, temper flaring. "How about you try stopping him yourself? Or are you too afraid to get your cuffs dirty?" He looked disdainfully at the Frenchman's gray suit. "You're nothing more than a little boy whose jealous of his brother's success and your own lack of recognition for whatever service you think you've done mankind. A measly, groveling flea-"

"Let's not forget who hired whom," Garnier rebutted, his voice continuing to rise in volume. "I will not have the recognition and glory I deserve be denied me all because of some low life thug whose brain has been choked out by his own muscles, posing as some kind of treasure hunter. You had better start getting some results before you make me regret that I ever got you involved!"

Enraged, Floki lunged forward with his hands up to strangle the Frenchman, but just as quickly Garnier produced a small pistol from inside his suit jacket and held it up to stop him. "Don't, touch me." Mathis seethed. "If for no other reason then that without the funding I've provided, you and your swarthy band of half-baked insurrectionists aren't getting anywhere near Atlantis."

There was a tense stand off between the two men where they both stared angrily at each other: Floki with his scarred eye seeming to bulge out behind its closed lid and the veins on his arms popping and making his tattoos ripple as he clenched his fists into tight balls, while Garnier held the pistol steadily pointing at Floki's forehead with surprising calm, though Nate could see his gun hand trembling ever so slightly. Finally, with a growl, Floki uncurled his fists and turned halfway to the side, his chin dipping in what was, while certainly not an act of submission, at least a signal of temporary truce. Garnier holstered his weapon in its concealed place inside his jacket, then spoke with crystal clarity and pointed calm, "Gather everything together- the remaining papers, maps, books, everything. Then get ready to go to Alexandria." He picked the map up off the table and held it up so that Floki could see the markings that had been inked on around the city. "Hopefully with forewarning of where he's going you might actually get the jump on him this time. Don't mess it up." He looked at the brutish Icelander meaningfully, then walked past him and back out through the archway. Floki did not turn, did not flinch, just stood stock still until the footsteps faded into the distance and then turned to his men.

"You two," he ordered, pointing to the men in question, "stay here and keep an eye out for them. The rest of you go patrol upstairs and around the building. I'm going to get a case from the truck to stick all this shit in." With that he stormed up the stairs, followed closely by all but the two he had indicated to stay. These two looked at each other and shrugged, then walked toward the altar.

"I can't believe we still haven't caught that Drake fellow," one said to the other as they paused at the stone platform. "We're going to have to step it up."

"Ha! It's just a bit of practice for us, getting us ready for revolution!" the other replied. "He won't last long. After all, he's just one filthy American."

That's my cue! Nate thought to himself. Releasing his toes from their hold on the cornice, he swung down from his hold on the other side and lifted his legs to strike.

"Holy shi-" the first goon cried. He was interrupted by Nate's boots making impact on his face and he fell unconscious to the floor under Nate's weight. The second man tried to line up a shot, but in his surprise he didn't see Charlie's fist coming from the side, and the pile-driver punch connected solidly with his temple, rattling his brain and making him slump to the ground beside his partner.

Charlie rubbed his knuckles and flashed a grin at Nate. "Great timing on the delivery of that attack, mate! That was the stuff of cinema- solid gold!"

"You noticed?" Nate asked dryly. Chloe and Sully appeared from the shadows and joined them at the door, and he frowned. "Time to get out of here while we still can!"

They rushed up the stairs and through the crypt, keeping their eyes peeled for Floki or his minions while trying themselves not to look suspicious. A couple of people gave them curious glances as they passed, but the gang gave wide smiles in return and they quickly turned away. By the time they reached the ground floor, Cutter and Sully were in the lead and reached the exit a good five paces ahead of Chloe and Nate, who were still crossing the main room of the cathedral. As he walked, Nate glanced toward the choir and spotted two of Floki's men turning out of a doorway, both of them moving with great determination. Inhaling sharply in surprise, he shoved Chloe behind a column and stopped behind another one himself; they both flattened themselves against the stone as the goons trotted by between them, never noticing them as they moved on a path perpendicular to the four treasure hunters. When the men exited through another door, Nate finally let out a breath he had been holding since he saw them, and he gave Chloe a look.

"That was close!" he said.

She nodded. "Yeah. Those boys weren't looking like they wanted to play nice. In fact, they just weren't looking at all."

"Lucky us," Nate agreed.

They rushed out the door behind Sully and Cutter and out to the parking spot where they had left Charlie's car earlier, then piled into the back seat. Charlie and Sully were already in, and once Nate and Chloe were on board Cutter pulled out and began driving down the street slowly enough to not draw attention, heading in the direction of his flat. Nate watched as they passed near enough to reach out and touch one of Floki's men on the sidewalk who was following the car with his eyes, but he knew that with the heavy tinting on the windows he never could have known who was inside. It was still unnerving as heck, though, and he found himself looking repeatedly out the back window as they drove to make sure they weren't being followed.

When Charlie threw open the door to his apartment twenty minutes later, Nate went immediately to the couch and flopped down, burying his head in his hands, while Cutter went to the kitchen and pulled out a bottle of alcohol. "Drinks, anyone?" he asked.

As the clink of glasses came from the kitchen, Chloe stepped around the couch and took a seat on the coffee table. "Nate?" she asked, concern obvious in her voice. Nate scrubbed a hand over his face as he looked up at her, and when his eyes met hers they looked indescribably weary. "What's going on?"

Without warning, Nate's expression suddenly hardened into something that looked like it could cut steel, and he spat harshly, "Nothing's going on." He stood abruptly. "Everything's perfect."

Chloe sat motionless on the table as he strode into the spare bedroom and slammed the door behind him. Her eyes drifted up to the ceiling in thought.

Charlie stood frozen in place, a bottle in one hand and a full glass in the other. "Was it something I said?" he asked.

From his chair in the corner, Sully stroked his mustache and shook his head. "I doubt it." Looking to Chloe, he asked, "What exactly set him off?"

Chloe frowned and shook her head. "I don't know," she admitted. "Wish I did. We were talking there in the temple, I checked my phone, and all of a sudden he just freaked out." She sighed. "It's beyond me."

Sully slid his phone out of his pocket and looked it over, and then his face screwed up into a frown. "I think I know what's up," he said. "He broke the first two rules of marriage I gave him before he and Elena tied the knot."

"Which iiiiss?" Chloe prodded.

Sully looked serious. "Rule number one: Never forget your anniversary. Rule number two: If you're going to forget your anniversary, don't let it be your first. And especially not when you're already on thin ice and you promised her to be there for her." He stood and rapped his knuckles on the table. "Sit tight. Wish me luck."

Nate stood with his head bowed, shoulders hunched, palms flat on the bed, open and partially packed suitcase sitting in front of him in the middle of the disheveled sheets, and he thought. Just thought. Thought a million and one biting, negative, and damning thoughts that swirled through his brain, trapping himself more and more in his own toxic stew of condemnation while he resolutely suppressed the tears that stung his eyes as he mulled over his own feelings of guilt. He didn't even turn when the door opened behind him, but he didn't have to. He knew who it would be.

"Nate." Sully's voice was low, subdued, and compassionate, carrying with it undertones of fatherly love and guidance.

Nate lifted his head but did not look back. "Yes?"

A pause. "I know what's up."

Nate sighed. "I know."

Another pause. "I'm here for you, kid. If you wanna talk, I'm here for you."

Nate turned to face him, leaning back on the bed and staring through glassy eyes. "I failed her, Sully."

"I know."

Nate's head drooped. "I failed her, and all I was trying to do was do the right thing. It's so stupid I forgot!"

"Stop beating yourself up, kid. It's not doing you any favors," Sully said sternly. He nodded at the suitcase. "Are you going to see her?"

"Why should I?" Nate asked, his voice rising as he spoke. "I'm already a loser, it's not like that's going to change. That was a fact from before we even got married. And besides, you all need me to go with you to Alexandria."

"Look Nate, for the last time- we don't need you," Sully said, his volume increasing mostly to keep Nate from interrupting. "Not like she needs you, we don't." He folded his arms over his chest and continued. "We're not a bunch of greenhorns or something. I've been doing this for a long time, and so have the others. We'll manage without you-"

"You're gonna get yourself killed, is what you're going to do!" Nate exploded. He stared stubbornly at his mentor, his features bitter and angry. "I've already failed at one responsibility, I'm not going to fail at this too," he declared.

"Nate-"

"I promised her, Sully!" Nate nearly yelled. "If she ever had a reason to trust me, she definitely won't now!"

"Okay, your right," Sully said, holding up his hands. "You messed up big, I can't deny it. But you've been trying to carry the whole world on your shoulders when all she's been asking of you is to not let her down!" He looked at Nate to show that he wasn't going to back down, but kept his voice steady. "You've gotta get your priorities straight, kid. Look, maybe you got a couple strikes on you, but you can't just run away now and hope that it gets better. You gotta face it, and it's better late than never. Just go home Nate. Let her know that even though you messed up, you still care about her. You've got to. You'll never forgive yourself if you just keep going like an idiot."

Nate folded his arms and inhaled slowly, staring off into the corner of the room. After a very long pause, he asked in a voice barely over a mumble, "Are you going to keep me posted?"

Sully nodded. "I'll even text you our dinner plans if you want."

"And if anything goes wrong?"

Smiling, Sully nodded again. "Promise."

Nate sighed deeply and turned back to packing his suitcase. "I want pictures of whatever you find. And I'm coming back as soon as things are smoothed over and my I know for certain my wife doesn't want my fool head on a stake." His gaze fell on the bronze astrolabe and he stopped to consider, then tossed it in with his clothes. "And, I'm taking this with me to make sure you don't try to talk me out of it."

Chapter Text

Clouds stretched out in every direction across the yawning expanse of sky that presented itself beyond the porthole-shaped window by Nate's seat on the plane. Not big and fluffy clouds, but rather thin and rolling, like the spindrift on an ethereal sea. Touched with shades of tangerine and pink, they sprawled languidly in the evening sun like a lazy child in a rowboat on a Sunday afternoon, a happy collage of color in the realm where the rain never falls.

It was decidedly happier than the angsty thoughts that currently crowded Nate's mind, which stretched forward to when he would be at his and Elena's apartment. He knew he wanted to bring her something nice- something to show that he cared. But what kind of a peace offering was prescribed for clueless husbands who break their promises to their wife? Flowers? He frowned. Too cliché. A new, expensive camera? Felt too much like bribery. An "I heart Chicago" mug from O'Hare? Might as well see if they can serve divorce papers along with it.

He gave a frustrated sigh, flopped his head back against the headrest, and closed his eyes, letting his mind drift. If only I could do it over again, he thought. Maybe I wouldn't be so blind and self-centered. Remembering Sully and Chloe's advice to stop berating himself about it, he forcefully drug his mind out of its gutter of self-loathing and focused it back toward the issue of what to bring for Elena. He gazed back out at the clouds passing them by at 300-some-odd miles an hour, and suddenly he was reminded of a day shortly before he and Elena had gotten married.

They had been laying on a grassy hillside, their heads nearly touching, and staring up at the clouds as they drifted languidly overhead. Rays of golden sun shone down, and the soon-to-be couple had basked in its delicious warmth. It had been a picture-perfect day, and spending it with the woman who was soon to be his wife had kicked it into sensory overload for Nate. Looking back on it, he was almost sure he must have been sporting the goofiest grin imaginable, what with the incredible good feelings of that time.

At any rate, somewhere along the way they had started talking about Elena's home life growing up, and she ended up recounting a story that her mother would often tell her about a child who was always making terrible messes all over the house. The mother would sometimes be on the verge of insanity keeping up with the child, or so it would seem, but then every night when the mother put the child to bed she would tell them "I'll like you forever, I'll love you for always. As long as I live, my baby you'll be." It was like a mantra of sorts, that the mother would say to her child their whole life long, even into adulthood. After telling him about it, Elena had giggled and turned it on him, speaking the mother's words to him directly.

Nate smiled at the thought, and with a sudden stroke of inspiration pulled out his journal and began drawing. He drew himself, standing on a dock and facing Elena, much like they had been in Xi'an. But instead of the tension and looks of hurt, he drew the two of them holding hands, him with his head down in remorse, and her with a smile and a look- the look- of warmth and acceptance she had shown him so many times. It was difficult to draw- he had to erase her face three times before he felt like he got it right. That look of unconditional love she gave was so beautiful, so heavenly, so Elena that it was hard to transfer to paper. Finally, he finished it out with a decorative border and the words, "I'll like you forever, I'll love you for always. As long as I live, my sweetheart you'll be."

Clicking his pen off after he finished going over the lines with ink, he smiled with at least a little satisfaction that his drawing communicated the sincerity of his intentions. He carefully tore the page out but kept it tucked away in his journal, which he returned to his pocket. Reclining his chair, he folded his hands behind his head and fell into the first restful sleep he had gotten since the hotel in Athens.

"...so then he says, 'No, that's just my pharaohmones! Get it?" Cutter burst into laughter, cackling and slapping his knee, with Sully laughing right along with him.

"Ah," Sully gasped, wiping tears from his eyes as he planted his unlit cigar back in his mouth. "That's a classic, Cutter!"

Chloe, at the wheel of the jeep that they were driving through the sandy wasteland between Alexandria and Cairo, rolled her eyes but couldn't resist a small smile at Charlie's nonsense. "Oh, Charles," she sighed. "Always the life of the party aren't you?"

The jeep juddered as they surmounted a low hill and started down the other side, and their destination came into view: an grouping of square-cut stones and blocks in various states of collapse that formed a still identifiable footprint of what was once a building. Adjusting the keffiyeh around her head, Chloe squinted against the swirls of airborne sand and grit as she slowed and stopped the jeep, shifting into neutral and pulling the emergency brake. "I do believe we're here boys," she announced, and hopped over the side of the jeep. Her feet, clad in calf-high leather boots, landed decisively on the fleeting sand dunes with their irregular windblown ripples that formed in a moment and then were scattered just as quickly; plodding through the ever-moving tiny dust devils, she knelt by one of the stone blocks and delicately traced two fingers over the engraved hieroglyphics, then stood again. "Not much here," she stated blandly, putting her hands on her hips. "We're in for some snooping."

"Well," Sully began with gusto. "I've got nothin' better to do. At least until tonight, and then I saw some fine looking ladies in that hotel we got." He fished in the pocket of his shirt- a brown and tan version of his typical Havana which he claimed was for desert camouflage- until he produced his lighter, and tried in vain to light his cigar in the gusty winds blowing across the barren landscape. Finally he gave up and returned both cigar and lighter to his pocket.

Chloe pulled her phone from her pocket and saw she had a new message. With a couple swipes of her finger, she unlocked the screen and then pulled up her texts. It was Nate.

Did u all make it ok?

Smiling at his concern, she quickly wrote back: All present and accounted for. And you?

Cutter was wandering through the ruins with Sully, rambling on about something to do with ancient Egyptian history and mythology. Her thin smile remained, even growing in warmth a bit as she watched him move, the sun shining off his balding head, his leather jacket beaten and weathered and collecting more patina with each adventure that he undertook. Another message dinged in and she glanced down.

Glad to hear it. I'm in a cab and heading home. I'll either let you know how it goes or you'll see my obituary.

Keep me posted.

She shook her head at Nate's humor, and with a short confirmation that she would keep him up to speed with their findings she slipped the phone into her back pocket and stepped into the ruins. "I think Nate's wishing he was here," she announced. "He keeps texting to make sure we're going to let him know how things go."

"It's all for show," Sully said. "He doesn't actually want to be here. He swore he'd never go back to Alexandria, and I think he pretty well means to stick to that."

"Oh?" Chloe arched an eyebrow curiously. "What happened here?"

Sully chuckled knowingly. "Ah, it's a long story, but has to do with a terrorist organization and a sailing yacht. I'll explain it when we get back to the hotel tonight."

"Before or after you see the fine looking ladies?" Chloe asked idly, finding herself enjoying the easy banter.

Another chuckle. "Well, that remains to be seen..."

"Fraser," Cutter called abruptly. "Come look what we got here." He was kneeling in front of one of the sections of wall that still had a couple rows of stacked blocks to its name, and Chloe hurried over to and knelt next to him. He pointed at some images carved into the block, which showed a man with the horns of a ram standing before the dog-headed god Anubis, and then the man being weighed on a set of scales. In the third section of the picture it showed him with Shu, the latter of which seemed to be emitting a beam of light, which was shining on the ground.

"Well, well," Chloe said with a smirk. "At this point, it doesn't take much to know who the guy with horns is, and here he is with Anubis... god of the underworld." She rested her elbow on her knee as she contemplated. "What do you say we have to go down?" She began to brush the sand away from the base of the blocks.

Charlie worked with her to clear away the centuries of grit, and called out, "Give us a hand, Sullivan? I think that 'stache of yours probably doubles nicely as an industrial push broom."

"No respect, I tell you," Sully grumbled, squatting down next to them. He watched for a moment, then asked dubiously, "So, what is it we're looking for?"

"Well," Chloe began, "it's like Nate says: When push comes to shove, find something to push," she paused as her fingertips brushed against the edge of a stone that was protruding at the base of the wall, "or shove." Sweeping both palms out and away from the block, she cleaned the rest of the sand away to give a clear view of the object. "This looks like a fine candidate." She felt around the stone and then began to push, gently at first, but then with more force until it slid back into the wall with the sound of rough cut stones grinding against each other. The stone slid until it hit something, but Chloe could see the edge of a lip just below it, and she used her fingertips to pry the stone down until it dropped into the recess thus revealed. Some more grinding noises came, and then the heavy wall blocks slid backward on a track, revealing a dark stairwell below.

Chloe stood and tugged on the lapels of her olive drab jacket. "One gateway to the underworld, now open."

"One might even say..." Sully began, a mischievous glint in his eye.

"...open sesame," Cutter finished. He scoffed, then added, "Because this is finally the right place for that."

A low, breathy whistle was the wind that sifted its way down into the tunnel from the surface, lifting Chloe's bangs and tickling the back of her neck. For the thousandth time that day, she blew the loose strands of hair from her face and vainly tried to tuck them behind her ear and inside her keffiyeh as she played the flashlight over the tunnel ahead. They had only been walking in it for maybe five hundred feet, but already she felt swallowed by the dark, just like the occasional rats or spiders that scurried away from the beam of light. And she knew if she felt that way, then it must be doubly so for Charlie. On that thought she turned to face him and walked backwards, careful to point the light at the ground so as not to blind him and Sully.

"How's it going, partner?" she asked cheerfully, smiling reassuringly.

Surprisingly, Cutter seemed almost distracted, and not acutely aware of the constriction of the underground tunnel. When he spared her a glance it was as if he was lost in thought, and he answered simply, "Good."

Caught off guard by the dry, non put-on nature of his response, Chloe tried again, "Doing okay in this tunnel?"

He had immediately reverted to his preoccupied look as soon as he answered the first time, and when he met her eyes again he seemed nearly agitated at having to interrupt his train of thought. "I'm fine," he insisted. "Why do you ask?"

Chloe shrugged. "I just know this isn't usually your thing. You know: small, enclosed spaces?"

There was a gleam in Cutter's eye as he looked directly at her and answered, "This isn't about me. It's about Nate. I'm doing this for him."

Chloe's eyes went wide. She stopped suddenly, and Cutter unsuspectingly collided with her. Even Sully barely managed to stop in his tracks before making it a three-car pile up. "So your claustrophobia is just- just gone?"

Still looking her in the eye, Cutter shrugged as if it was nothing. "Oi, not gone. I just 'aven't thought about it. Nate needs us. He'd be here if he could, but he can't. And he needs us to do this."

Chloe searched his features for any sign of wavering to say that it was all just a show, that beneath that cool exterior he was just as afraid of small spaces as ever, but she saw nothing but steely resolve. And if that wasn't the bravest thing she'd ever seen or heard, then she didn't know what was. Her heart fluttered for a moment before she got a hold of herself and spun herself around to keep walking. "You're right. It's good he can go. He pushes himself too hard."

There was a small silence, and then Cutter spoke again. And again, his voice was low and smooth. "I don't think so. Push himself too hard, that is. It's 'is destiny. If he didn't do it, I don't think anyone would, or maybe even could. Maybe he won't do it forever, but I think there will only ever be one Nathan Drake, and he'd better do what he came for."

The words hit Chloe like something profound that she didn't even quite understand herself, and she slowed her pace, glancing back over her shoulder to see if Cutter had mysteriously been abducted by aliens and replaced with some wizened philosopher, but Charlie's hard-cut features were still the same they always had been.

And then he noticed Chloe looking at him, his eyes went wide, and in an instant the contemplation was replaced with his usual snarky wit. "Don't tell him I said that, of course," he said. "Cocky little bastard doesn't need any more help with his ego."

Chloe smirked. "Not a word."

It took Nate five times of reaching for, and then retracting his hand from, the door knob to actually gather the courage to turn it and step into their apartment, but he finally did after taking a steeling gulp of air and setting his jaw determinedly. He had recited what he wanted to say to Elena about a hundred times in his head- not because he was trying to hand her some scripted and half-assed apology, but because he was scared stiff that his brain would short-circuit or his emotions get tangled up and he would trip over his own tongue and say something stupid. All he knew was that if he could only get one thing right in his life, it would have to be saying sorry for all the dumb things he did wrong.

He stepped into the living room and was met with darkness and the silhouettes of familiar objects that were distinguishable from the shadows: The brown corduroy couch, the little tabletop lamp, the ancient TV set... He flicked on the lights as he called out timidly, "Elena?" Getting no reply, he walked slowly into the kitchen, then the hallway to the bedroom, turning on lights as he went. Each step he took was carefully and quietly placed, as if he was treading in someone else's home and didn't want to disturb them. Passing the bathroom, he saw the little sailboat shaped nightlight faithfully glowing, like a lonely sentinel over the oft-deserted residence. The bedroom was equally vacant, and Nate frowned, letting out a quiet "Hmph". Putting one hand on his hip, he mused aloud, "Must be out somewhere. Shopping, maybe. Or maybe something for her job."

He walked back toward the kitchen, aware of every time a floorboard creaked as he stepped on it, and of every time he thought he saw something move out of the corner of his eye. The silence was deafening. It unnerved him.

Back in the kitchen, he noticed a couple grocery bags in the trash that he knew had not been there when they left for Greece- Elena was meticulous about not leaving loose ends when they were leaving for an extended period of time. Everything else in the house seemed impeccable though. As he looked around, not one thing seemed out of place.

Except for that piece of paper.

Noticing for the first time the folded sheet of stationery on the kitchen counter, he crossed the room in two steps and picked it up. In the warm but dim light of the partially illuminated home, he saw, in oh-so-familiar penmanship with sweeping lines and curving arcs, the unmistakable handwriting of Elena. Her delicate script spelled out a single word on the front of the folded letter.

Nate

His heart rate quickened, his palms grew sweaty, and he swallowed compulsively. With trembling hands he opened the paper and slowly swept his eyes across the lines of words, each neatly and patiently scribed with the deliberation and care that only she could give.

He was about halfway through when his eyes grew too watery to see, and his knees suddenly felt very weak. His legs trembled and gave out, and he fell against the refrigerator and slid down it onto the floor. Sitting on the linoleum with knees bent and feet flat, he crossed his arms over his knees, buried his face in his shirt sleeves, and for the first time in many years he surrendered to the hot, bitter tears that stung his eyes. His body convulsed as he sobbed silently into the fabric of his T-shirt and the streams of grief coursed freely down his cheeks.

And he was alone.

Chapter Text

Nate,

Hi. I hope that this letter finds you alive and well. My thoughts have been with you from the moment I left you in Xi'an.

I don't really know how to say what I'm thinking, mostly because I never wanted to hurt you. I really hope you can hear where I'm coming from in this.

First off: As I'm sure you've noticed by now, I'm not here. I rented myself a little apartment in New York where I'm staying for right now. I just felt like I needed to get away from it all for a bit, and it seemed like NYC was the best place to do that, as far as my new job is concerned. Yes, by the way, I got the position, and I'll be working as a foreign correspondent. I think soon I'm going to be stationed in the Middle East for a time. New York was just the best intermediate between here and there.

Second: I want you to know I still love you. I mean I think I do. I'm not looking for a divorce or anything, I just needed a break for a while. Nate, it kills me laying in bed at night while you're out on a job, and just wondering if I'll get a report that your body was found dead in a cave, or washed up on a beach somewhere. It scares me, loving you so deeply but not knowing just how long until the ticking time bomb of treasure hunting finally blows on you, and thinking about being alone, maybe never even knowing what happened or where you were. If you ever die, Nate, a huge piece of my heart will die with you.

Third, I guess I should explain why I left. I know that in some of our fights recently I've probably been kind of irrational, in the way of resenting you having to save people. Nate, you are a hero to me, and you always will be- not even just to me, but to so many others. But like I said, I'm scared terrified of losing you, and maybe it's immature of me, but running away seemed like the only viable option to cope with it right now. You've always been so strong, not just when it comes to opening heavy gates or freeing people from under debris, but in your ability to carry more responsibility than any one man should have to. And I knew that when I married you, but I guess I always thought that you would be more of a Heracles type- like, that maybe you'd have to bear the weight of the world for a little bit, but eventually you'd be able to set it down and move on. Now I see that you really are more of an Atlas, and maybe you'll always have to bear that weight till the day you die, I don't know (I hope I'm not getting too corny and poetic). And if it's that way, than know that I'll always respect you for it. But right now, with how dangerous this job is shaping up to be, I just don't think I can handle it right now. I think having some space for a bit will help us figure out about our relationship- I just don't think we can keep going how we are. Like I said, I'm not looking to get divorced, and I sincerely hope you won't be either. I still love you Nate.

I don't have the courage to call you right now, but when I do I'll get in touch. Please hear me on this one, and don't be upset.

Elena

Nate read it for the umpteenth time, now through bloodshot but dry eyes, as they had long ago shed all the tears they had to give. A great weight had settled in his stomach and not moved since he saw the letter the first time; he wondered if his heart had physically dropped into his guts. His throat tight, eyes strained, and head pounding, he allowed his head to flop backward against the fridge, closing his eyes and letting out a groan. The minutes passed and drug on into hours until Nate, exhausted both physically and emotionally, drifted away into a deep, deep sleep.

"Whoa! Hang on there!" Chloe stopped on the brink of a deep pit and held up a hand to warn the others. Shining the flashlight down into the abyss, she could see it gleaming off the tips of long, bronze spikes a good twenty feet down. "This is not what I call laying out the welcome mat!" she exclaimed.

"Yeahhh," Sully whistled. "A little extreme for a boot scraper."

Chloe looked out at a oblong platform suspended about ten feet out into the pit, hanging by chains from a bronze arm above them. As she played the light over the mechanism, she found that the arm extended past a central support and over to an identical platform at the far end of the long chamber that lay perpendicular to the hallway they were currently in. "It's a giant scale," she marveled. All along the pit, to the ends on both sides of the scale, the spikes shone menacingly, dotted here and there with the skeletons of unfortunate visitors of times past.

"The weighing of hearts," Cutter said solemnly.

Chloe side-eyed him. "What's that?"

Cutter glanced at her and then motioned to the bowl of the scale in front of them. "For weighing souls. One of the duties of Anubis was to weigh the hearts of the dead to see if they were worthy to pass into the underworld, or Duat. They were weighed against the concept of truth, represented by an ostrich feather."

"Weighed against a feather?" Chloe scoffed, putting her hands on her hips. "There must have been a bloody awful lot of people who failed that test!"

"Mmm, suddenly I'm wishing I had gone on that diet after all," Sully muttered, doing a gut-check while looking dubiously at the scales.

"Just keep your pants on, will you?" Charlie growled. "Truth was also personified in the goddess Ma'at, Shu's sister." He pointed to a small statue on the edge of the pit. "See that figurine, there, with the wings? That's her." He pulled Newton's journal from his back pocket and fished out a scrap of paper they had taken from the lab in St. Paul's. "I think it has something to do with her arms. See how they're positioned differently in the picture here then on the statue?"

Chloe looked at the paper in Charlie's hand and saw that, indeed, Ma'at's arms in Newton's sketch were held in front of her and at slight angles, like a sideways "V", while on the statue they were spread wide on both sides of the goddess. "You're right," she said, and knelt by the statue. "Let's see what we can do here."

"When in doubt, find some goddess to manhandle, amiright?" Sully said cheekily.

Chloe glared at him. "I'm going to pretend like you didn't just say that."

"Pretend away," Sully mumbled in the background as Chloe placed her hands on the goddess' left upper arm and began to pull. She applied firm, steady effort, and soon the metal appendage was rotating slowly in a socket, grinding slowly around until it stopped on the right side of Ma'at's body. Chloe then pushed down on the left and pulled up on the right arm until they resembled the sketch in the journal.

She stood as a deep and low rumble shook the sandstone-paved hall, and a stone pillar rose from the bottom of the spike pit, twisting slightly as it ascended to touch the bottom of the scale's bowl, then stopped with a boom that resounded through the temple. Quite pleased with her efforts, Chloe remarked, "I think we just tipped the scales in our favor, boys." While Cutter muttered something about a cheap shot, she backed up a couple paces and then ran and jumped, clearing the distance to the scale and then to the ledge on the opposite side of the pit. Charlie was close behind, crossing the large metal bowl in two strides and then landing beside her on safe ground.

"Why did that feel so much like cheating?" he asked, nodding at the pillar propping up their side of the scale.

"You say that like it's a bad thing," Chloe answered blithely.

Sully brought up the rear, not going quite as far with his initial jump and grabbing the lip of the bowl instead. He pulled himself up with a huff, then hunched over, poised to make his second leap to the other side. Some movement behind him caught Chloe's eye, and she saw the arms on the statue of Ma'at suddenly swing back to their original position, and premonition of danger suddenly washed over her. "Sully, go!" she shouted, herself already springing into position to act. Sully took his first step in crossing the scale, but suddenly the pillar dropped out from under it and the entire balance lurched to the side, tilting the bowl nearly vertical and spilling him toward the wicked spikes below. Chloe was in motion, throwing herself back across the abyss and grabbing one of the chains of the scale, then using it to swing down onto the steeply slanted bowl. Her hip bone struck the metal hard and she released her grip on the chain, sliding down to the lower edge of the platform just behind Sully, who was frantically reaching for a hold on something. She reached out and caught his hand, then grabbed the chain connected to the bottom edge of the bowl as they both slid off the metal surface and into the air, and she felt their combined weight jerk excruciatingly on her shoulders a moment later. Through gritted teeth, she maintained her grip as she called down, "Sully! Climb up me and get yourself back on that goddamn scale!" She looked down and saw that the tips of his toes were brushing the spikes.

"Best idea I've heard all day!" he exclaimed, and began hauling himself up hand over hand.

Chloe sighed with relief when he was able to transfer his bulk to the scale, and she also pulled herself up, standing on the connection point of the chain to the bowl, with one hand holding the chain and the other pressed against the bowl. Sully had climbed to the top edge, and was now perched and looking skeptically at the feat of getting to the other side. "What now?" he asked. "This jump didn't exactly get any easier with the whole thing at an angle like this."

"Come on, now," Cutter said, then clapped his hands and then half-squatted at the knees, looking something like an American football player. "I gotcha."

Sully steeled himself, then lunged forward, grabbing Cutter's hand with a grunt, and Charlie immediately hauled him up onto the platform and then got back into position to catch Chloe. Chloe pulled herself up onto the top edge of the bowl, smirked at Cutter, and leaped across, grabbing his hand just as Sully did. As she was pulled up, she remarked, "My gallant hero," and patted Cutter's shoulder. Cutter gave the front of his jacket a tug as she walked by and then followed her further into the crypt.

The passageway soon rose steeply upward again, and when it leveled out they found themselves in a large, open room with a multiple dark doorways around the perimeter, and a towering statue of Shu just to the side of the entrance they came through. The god was facing the middle of the room and holding an ankh in front of him at arm's length. "This looks promising," Chloe said.

Cutter frowned and held up a hand as if feeling the air, turning his head first one way and then the other. "You feel that?" he asked. "There's a breeze."

"Good!" Sully said. "That means there's another way out."

Cutter looked at him with less enthusiasm. "Also means there's another way in."

Sully shrugged. "Ah, tomato, tomahto."

Chloe had walked out into the room and was pacing in a circle around the center, staring at the floor. Her eyes widened. "Do you see this?" she asked, her voice hushed with amazement. "It's a map. A map of the northern part of Africa as well as some of Asia." She spun in place and then pointed at the floor. "This must somehow tell us where to find Atlantis... but how?" She trailed off, considering what to do. As she thought, her eyes drifted up to the statue of Shu by the door, eventually finding their way to the ankh in his hand. A single ruby gleamed in the middle of the loop at the top of the ankh, the glow of her flashlight reflecting off of its cut surface.

Strange.

Chloe then looked past the statue and noticed a square panel on the wall behind the statue that had chains running to the lower corners, like it was designed to be lifted. "That panel up there is a door or window of some sort," she stated, pointing it out with her finger. Following the chains to the side wall of the room, she saw that it was actually a single chain, with the bight passing around a wooden wheel mounted on the wall that had a groove cut in the edge to admit the links. With a few quick strides, she reached the wheel and grabbed it like a steering wheel. "Let's see what happens if we- ugh- turn this!" She strained to spin the device as she talked, planting her feet wide and leaning into her effort. Creaking and groaning like the knob on an old rusty spigot, the wheel turned slowly, moving the chain with it and in turn lifting the wooden panel on the wall. As another effect of Chloe's efforts at the wheel, the arm of Shu holding the ankh began to turn slowly away from him, moving it more and more in line with the window. Sunlight from the world above shone through in a slowly widening beam, casting its welcome light on the scene in the room, and particularly on an astounded Sully and Charlie, who stood, mouths agape, as the panel neared the ceiling. With one last grunt, Chloe heaved the wheel again and the window was fully opened, and Shu's arm came to rest directly in the path of the light from the sun. The sun's rays were momentarily dimmed as what was presumably a cloud passed by outside, then the light came back full strength, hitting the ruby in the ankh as it passed by. There was a moment of anticipation as the three treasure hunters looked expectantly at the little gem and the light seemed to lag as it passed through, like it had to filter through it and get focused. Then a very distinct, focused beam of light emerged from the ruby and shone down on the map on the floor, pinpointing a very specific spot. Three pairs of eyes locked on to the spot where the blood-red light was touching down in the northwest corner of Africa.

"That's the coast of Morocco!" Charlie exclaimed. "Looks to be right in the middle of the-"

"...Atlas mountains," Sully finished with wonder in his voice. "Well, I'll be a sonuvva gun."

Chloe scoffed, a smile spreading across her face. "Of course, right? I mean where else would 'Atlas' Island' be? Oh god, good thing Nate's not here, he'd have one more thing to kick himself about." She pulled out her phone and started snapping pictures of the map from several different angles. "We've gotta tell Nate about this," she said, slipping the phone into her back pocket. "Come on, let's-"

She was interrupted by the sharp clack of an AK-47 being cocked. Chloe looked toward one of the doorways around the perimeter and saw a familiar face emerge from the shadows, grinning like the Cheshire cat. "Surprise!" Floki sing-songed. He stepped forward, keeping his weapon pointed directly at Chloe's face. "Did you miss me?"

About a dozen of his lackeys now also stepped forward from the various other doors, effectively surrounding them, and each brandished a machine gun that was resolutely trained on the three adventurers. Cutter glanced around, pistol in hand but pointed at the floor. "You know, gotta be honest," he deadpanned. "I really didn't."

"Put your weapons down!" Floki barked.

Chloe scowled but did as she was told. Three handguns clattered as they hit the sandstone floor.

Floki nodded to his men, a couple of which stepped forward and collected the weapons. "Now," the Icelander growled. "Where is Drake?"

"Not here," Chloe volunteered, relishing the surprise she saw pass over his face. "Sorry to disappoint."

A frustrated rumble came from Floki's throat. "Where is he?"

"Go to hell," Sully shot back.

Floki turned his gun to point at him. "Shut it, old man! Do you think I have some need of you?" He glowered at them. "Give me the journal!" No one moved a muscle to obey, and Floki screeched, "NOW!"

"Here," Cutter held up the journal and tossed it to him.

The redheaded savage snatched the book out of the air and shoved it in his pocket. "Finally, someone with a little bit of sense. Now, the astrolabe. Quickly, I'm getting tired of this fast!"

"It's not here, dumbass," Sully said snidely. "Try again."

Floki's eyes narrowed. "You're bluffing."

"The astrolabe's with Nate," Chloe confirmed. "And there's no way your catching up with him."

The AK moved to point at Chloe again, and then Floki let out an enraged roar. "Miserable little shits! Where is the astrolabe?"

"What, are you afraid that Garnier might let you go, you 'stalker with a penchant for explosives'?" Chloe countered, then nodded to the gun in his hands. "Point that thing away from me, you know we're no use to you dead."

Surprisingly, Floki faltered and lowered the AK-47 slightly.

"Good boy," Chloe said condescendingly. "See, you're not quite as dumb as you look."

Floki glared at her, then suddenly took one long stride forward and smacked the side of her face with the butt of his gun hard enough it spun her 180 degrees away from him. Moaning in pain, Chloe bent at the waist and pressed both palms to her temples.

"Hey!" Cutter shouted, and made a move to lunge at him. He was immediately stopped by a half dozen machine guns being shoved in his face.

Floki continued to glower down at Chloe, and he reached out and grabbed the phone sticking out from her back pocket. "Hey!" she said, straightening up. "Don't you put your hands in my pants! And give me my phone back!"

Floki withdrew from her reach, slung his AK-47 over his shoulder, and began scrolling through her contacts while his men's guns held her at bay. "Where is Drake's number? I want to speak with him."

Scoffing, Chloe said in a cutting tone of voice, "Surprisingly, Nate's number is under the contact 'Nate'. A long shot, I know..."

Floki mimicked a talking movement with his free hand. "Talk, talk, talk. You do a lot of that, bitch. Too much for my taste." He sneered at her. "If it wasn't unfortunately true that you're more valuable to me alive, I would shoot you now. Now if you will kindly shut up for a minute-" he dialed the number and held it to his ear. It took Nate a minute to pick up, but presently Floki gave a cry of mock delight. "Ah, Nathan! How are you?" The brute began pacing back and forth, smiling like he was having a casual conversation with a good friend. Sully scowled and met eyes with Cutter, while Chloe watched with stony resignation. "Oh my!" Floki clapped a hand to his cheek, feigning shock. "Such strong language! Surely your mother didn't teach you to talk like that!" He stopped and rested his free hand in the crook of his arm that was holding Chloe's phone. "Alright, enough child's play, Drake. Here's what I want: You have the astrolabe, and you're going to bring it to me. Otherwise, you'll never see your three friends here again. Capeesh?" There was a pause, and a sly grin spread across the redhead's face. "No, you will come meet us at Atlantis, or at least nearby. ...Yes, I have the journal, and we found quite the fascinating little map-"

"Actually, we found it," Charlie corrected, though Floki wasn't listening.

"-and I'm going to send you some pictures here in just a moment. For the time being, I will be keeping Miss-" he gestured to Chloe for a name.

"Frazer," Chloe growled.

"-Bigmouth Frazer's phone, and I will tell you where exactly to come if you want to get your friends. That will be all, Drake." Floki gave a wide, shit-eating grin. "Cheers." He hung up and stuffed the phone into his vest pocket, much to Chloe's annoyance. Turning his smug smile on the three treasure hunters in the room with him, he surveyed them like a cat about to eat a mouse and then suddenly clapped his hands.

"Men!" he barked. "Tie them up and bring them out to the truck! We've got a long road ahead of us."

Time passed and Nate was unawares as he slept soundly from pure exhaustion. Shadows came and slowly lengthened, their tendrils snaking across the floor to encompass him in ever-increasing darkness. The sun set, and night fully set in, and still Nate slept, dreamlessly and fitfully. An untold amount of hours passed in this way, then, through the fog and sludge of his exhausted mind, Nate gradually became aware of a noise coming from somewhere nearby, and his head lolled to one side while his still-closed eyes scrunched a bit in confusion. It took his sleep-addled brain a solid ten seconds to piece together that it was, in fact, his phone ringing, and he lurched forward, his chest banging into his knees in his position on the floor of his kitchen. He fumbled the device from his pocket and looked at the screen to see who it was.

Chloe. Scrubbing a hand over his face, he flipped open the phone and pressed it to his ear. "N'ya, hullo." His head flopped forward until his forehead rested on his knees and he squeezed his eyes shut again. His left leg tingled from lack of circulation, and he tried to massage the pins and needles from his calf.

"Ah, Nathan! How are you?" Floki's voice came through in saccharine tones that were just dripping with the unspoken taunt, begging him to guess why he had Chloe's phone. Since Nathan had just woken up and was in an altogether foul mood, he cut right to the chase.

"Floki? You son of a bitch!" He clambered clumsily to his feet, his partly asleep left leg still refusing to serve him properly. "Where's Chloe? For that matter, where's Sully and Charlie, asswipe?"

"Oh my! Such strong language! Surely your mother didn't teach you to talk like that!"

"This from the guy whose mother apparently taught him that leather vests were an acceptable style choice," Nate growled back. The words were as snarky as ever, but they felt hollow and strange on his tongue, tainted with the unspeakable hurt he felt over Elena, as well as bitterness toward Floki and Garnier for dragging them all into this. "But," he continued with all the bravado he could muster, "I'm guessing you have a lot more wrong with you than mommy issues, so-"

"Alright, enough child's play, Drake," Floki interrupted. "Here's what I want: You have the astrolabe, and you're going to bring it to me. Otherwise, you'll never see your three friends here again. Capeesh?"

Nate's stiff-legged gait brought him to the front door, and he gazed out the light to where night had fallen outside. A pair of headlights passed by and his heart irrationally quickened its beat, as if it were one of Floki's goons driving by. "Where do you want me to meet you, asshole? Alexandria?"

On the other end, Floki chuckled. "No, you will come meet us at Atlantis, or at least nearby."

Heaving an dejected sigh, Nate shook his head and turned away from the door. "You took the journal, didn't you?"

"Yes, I have the journal, and we found quite the fascinating little map-" Charlie's voice was vaguely audible in the background, butting in to say that they had actually found it, "-and I'm going to send you some pictures here in just a moment. For the time being, I will be keeping Miss... Bigmouth Frazer's phone and I will tell you where exactly to come if you want to get your friends. That will be all, Drake. Cheers. "

Nate went wide eyed and blurted, "Hey, don't even think about hanging-" Then the line went dead. Holding the phone away from his face, he scowled at the screen and then jammed it into his back pocket. "Son of a..." He ran to his room and pulled out his battered army surplus duffel, then jerked open his dresser drawer and began stuffing clothes into the bag. After packing, he threw on a light gray Henley and a pair of tan work pants and ran back to the kitchen where he took his shoulder holsters from the suitcase and slipped his arms into them, then pulled the astrolabe from his suitcase and packed that in the duffel as well. As he stuck his feet into his boots and turned toward the island, his eye fell on the letter Elena had left him, sitting next to his journal on the floor, and he paused.

Slowly, he stooped and picked up both objects. Sparing one last glance at the letter, he pulled his sketch from the pages of the journal and settled his gaze on the pencil lines.

I'll like you forever, I'll love you for always. As long as I live, my sweetheart you'll be.

He frowned. The words seemed so childish, so naive- how could he think that he could make up for his glaring flaws with some trite little note like that? In frustration he crumpled it and his wife's letter and threw both in the garbage can. His hands moved to his throat and fingers delicately lifted Sir Francis Drake's ring around his neck. The familiar silver curve sparkled in the light, the engraved letters Sic Parvis Magna like a glimmer of hope, some motivation to keep going. Truly, beginnings didn't get much smaller than his.

"I guess this Drake was only meant to have one ring," he mumbled grimly, letting it fall back against his skin. Grasping his wedding ring instead, he removed it from his finger and briefly examined it before placing it on the counter and heading for the door.

Just as he was about to shut the door behind him, he froze. "I do not want to have to explain this to Sully and the others right now," he breathed. Sighing deeply, he turned back and retrieved his wedding band. "For now, it stays." Then he headed out the door and into the night.

Chapter Text

Metal crashed loudly against metal as the heavy door was thrust open with great force, smashing into the wall with a noise that resonated down the grimy corridor of the mining compound, seeming to shake the rust-corroded building it was a part of. Floki retracted his bulky, booted foot from kicking the door open, and, taking Chloe by her bound wrists, he shoved her hard into the small, filth-covered room. She stumbled and fell to the floor, landing in a puddle of stagnant water that had collected over time.

"Hey, I'm callin' the management," Sully said as a thug shoved him in behind her. "This is all wrong, I asked for the penthouse suite."

"And a jacuzzi," quipped Charlie as he received similar treatment to his comrades.

Floki sneered at them. "Three jokers who just won't shut their mouths." He inclined toward them, placing one hand on the door knob, and looked at each in turn. "We'll see whether any of you has gnawed their own arm off by the time your friend gets here."

Scrambling up off the ground as Floki moved to shut the door, Chloe asked quickly, "How will he find us?"

Floki paused. "I'm going to tell him, of course!" he growled. He pulled Chloe's phone from his pocket and waved it in her face. "Thanks to you, I can send text messages from remote parts of the world and not even run up a charge."

Chloe's eyes went wide. "Hey! Kidnap is one thing. Racking up a phone bill is something else entirely!"

Floki snickered. "Brave woman, you are." He looked at her contemplatively. "It's a shame you can be such a bitch." He exited the room between two goons that held their rifles trained on the three tied-up captives, pulling the door shut behind him. Before he fully closed it he said in an aside to Chloe, "Also, dearest, be more careful what pictures you keep on your phone. You never know who might see them."

The door slammed shut, echoing even more loudly in the small, windowless room the three treasure hunters now found themselves in. The rattle of a deadbolt being drawn was followed by the soft ping,ping,ping of retreating footsteps on the diamond plate floor, and then silence.

Sully and Charlie both looked at Chloe with eyebrows raised. In lieu of explanation, she commented, "He's bluffing. I think. Wait, maybe- no, I'm pretty sure he's bluffing."

The rugged-tread tires splashed through the shallow stream, spraying water on both sides as the jeep lurched and bounced over ruts and bumps. With a roar, the 4x4 crawled its way out of the stream bed and back onto the grass, tearing up clods of dirt and mud as it went. Nate downshifted and then gave it some more gas as he approached an incline.

Fishing in his pocket for his phone, Nate flipped it open and checked the last text he had gotten from Floki, then matched the coordinates therein with his GPS for what might have been the thousandth time that day. The events of the last week or two had him on edge, and he knew it. Though he knew that it was possible Floki had sent him to a spot completely separate from wherever he was holding his teammates, it was all he had to go on, and he'd be damned if he ended up on a wild goose chase because of an error in inputting the lat/long. Glancing back to his surroundings, he nodded once to himself.

"The Atlas mountains." He scoffed. "How could it be anywhere else? I've been such a-" Sully's fatherly admonishment to not follow such self-deprecating thoughts came back to him, and he snapped his mouth shut. Sully was right. He was always right. If he was going to do this, he needed to be absolutely taut and alert, not wallowing in despair and self-pity. He knew that even if this was the coordinates for his friends place of imprisonment, it was unlikely the big Icelander would let him just waltz up to their door and let them out. Most likely, he'd be sending people out to stop him and get the astrolabe long before he ever got within range of them, and that was what he needed to watch out for.

The drivable path suddenly narrowed and rose steeply, becoming dotted with boulders and crevices, and Nate knew his jeep had brought him as far as it would. From here, it was the heel-toe express to Floki's supposed "abandoned copper mine". He pulled the parking brake, turned off the engine and removed the key, then hopped out and walked around to the back to grab his bag. Slinging his backpack over his shoulder, he turned to the path ahead, his eyes trailing up the formidable slopes to the visible peak- which he knew was only what he could see from his vantage point. The foreboding and rugged terrain suddenly made him feel very small and vulnerable, and, in spite of his determination to get his friends back, he found his face sagging in dread.

He sighed. "I don't suppose they have an elevator?"

"No, there's no elevator!" Floki bellowed at the hapless goon. "What do you think this is, vacation? You can take the stairs to the surface and then get your sorry butt out there to look for Drake!" He threw a wrench at his subordinate who ducked out of the way, and the tool ricocheted off a pipe. "We can't let him get anywhere near the mine."

Scrambling away like a kicked puppy, the goon called back, "Where are we supposed to look for him?"

"On the roads, you idiot!" Floki yelled back. "Do you think he'd take the hard way just for fun?" He snarled at the man. "Besides, the chopper's going to be out looking for him, too. They'll radio if they see anything. Now get some men and go!"

The man scurried up the metal stairs while Floki glared daggers after him. The Icelander remained frozen in place until a drip of water from the ceiling fell with a plop onto the floor. His gaze lowered to the puddle which the offending drip had become a part of, a hazy rainbow of oil and industrial scum shining on the surface of the stagnant pool.

"The trap is set," he murmured. "The prey draws closer."

A fine mist hung in the air, tossed up by the river rushing below, carried on the mountain breeze that channeled down the gorge. Nate eyed the shiny-slick bark on the fallen tree he was currently traversing and tried his best to focus on putting one foot in front of the other instead of on the sickening fall onto jagged rocks far below that would be the result of even a small misstep. About twelve feet from solid ground on the one side and at least as many from the other he paused as a sudden gust threatened to upset his balance. His arms, held up perpendicular to his body, windmilled a bit as he steadied himself.

"If I die," he said to himself through slightly clenched teeth, "I hope it's said of me that at least I didn't wear sea turtles on my feet." He composed himself and crossed the rest of the log as fast as safely possible, and then climbed through the huge, decaying root ball to the rocky ledge it rested on. He spared a glance back at the gorge he had just crossed and chuckled to himself a bit grimly. "At least it didn't crack in half on me. That would have been classic. Heh," he scoffed, "figures that the one time Elena's not here with me..." he trailed off, losing the humor of the situation in the stinging pain her name brought to his heart. Shaking his head vigorously to clear away the dark cloud, he turned and kept walking, hooking one thumb through his backpack strap. He had just rounded the corner of the mountain when he heard a faint humming which made him stop again. Squinting into the bright sun, he surveyed his surroundings, keeping his ears attentive to the sound as it grew louder and closer. It was definitely mechanical, he thought. Probably an aircraft of some type.

Just then a helicopter came into view from over a ridge in the distance and swept slowly back and forth over the peaks as if looking for something. Nate's eyes went wide and he jumped behind a boulder, as it drew closer, crouching low to try to remain hidden. He winced as it flew directly overhead, and pretty low at that, its blades thrashing the air as it seemed to linger momentarily over his hiding spot. His hand moved instinctively to the butt of his 9 mil, but then the chopper turned and flew away, the noise soon fading into the distance.

When the rhythmic beating of the rotors had gone entirely from his earshot, he cautiously stood up and scanned the sky. "That can not have been good," he murmured. "Wonder if they saw me?" Frowning, he added to himself, "I'd better get moving."

He increased his already brisk pace up the path, occasionally taking detours when it was blocked by rock slides, or washed out, or crumbled away. The road had been made by whichever mining operation worked up here, but after being abandoned along with the mine it was showing signs of its neglect, with many large boulders and fallen trees across it. While scrambling up the other side of a wash out, Nate slipped on some scree and banged his knee on a rock, hissing in pain as he rolled over onto the ledge at the top. He stood, gingerly rubbing his knee, and flexed his leg back and forth a couple times to loosen it up again. "Ah, I'm gonna feel that for a while," he muttered as he limped away.

Soon enough, though, the pain was subsided to a dull ache and his tempo increased again, with him constantly reminding himself that he was probably on borrowed time at this point. He had been walking about an hour since seeing the helicopter when he came upon an old steel bridge, spanning another gorge with the sound of the river drifting up from below. To the left of the bridge, on his side of the chasm, an old metal cart lay discarded and forgotten, cocked at an angle as it was missing a wheel. Nate strode forward with purpose, wryly saying to himself, "Well, looks like I get another chance to have a bridge break on me. I'd knock on wood if I could find any."

Suddenly, from around the bend in the road across the way, a half a dozen of Floki's men came swarming out and quickly advanced on the bridge. "There he is!" the man who seemed to be in the lead shouted. "Get 'im boys!"

"Ah, crap, even worse!" Nate groused. As the men began deploying their weapons and taking aim, he dove behind the cart and flipped it the rest of the way on its side to create some cover. Bullets began to pound the cart and into the ground around him, and Nate pulled the pistol from his shoulder holsters and peered around the end with just one eye. He was hopelessly outmatched: machine guns, high powered rifles- heck, even an RPG or two, not to mention grenades. He fired off a couple shots just to try to keep them back from crossing the bridge, but knew he was going to have to play this fight smart if he was going to get out of it.

"I need some kind of edge!" he muttered to himself as he squeezed off another shot, clipping the shoulder of one of the thugs. An edge... He saw the jagged edge of the mountain just a couple feet away from him, and an idea came into his mind. "That's it!" he said. "I just need some kind of a distraction, just for a moment, until I can get their attention how I want!" A grenade landed a little ways away from him and he frantically dropped to the ground prone as it went off and showered shrapnel around him. Pushing himself up to peer over the cart again, he saw one of the other guys drawing his RPG. I gotta do this, NOW! he thought. He glanced up the face of the cliff above the thugs and spotted a fairly large boulder a little ways up. "That'll do," he muttered, taking aim with his pistol. He fired off several shots directly at the cliff before he saw the RPG line up with him and knew he had to move fast. He lunged and rolled to the side, knowing in an instant his cover would be gone, and prayed that those few bullets he fired had been enough to dislodge the boulder. Rolling as he hit the ground, he heard the roar of the rocket hitting the metal cart and hurling it into the air only to come down with a mighty crash a moment later. At the same time he heard screams and shouting from the goons and knew his little trick must have worked- which meant he only had a moment to get into position. Scrambling to his feet, he scampered to the cliff edge and unhooked the astrolabe from the loop on his leather shoulder holsters, and with one hand he dangled the device over the precipice, while pointing his gun at the surprised thugs with the other.

"NOBODY MOVE!" he screamed. Composing themselves from the shock of the sudden boulder attack, the men on the other side locked eyes on Nate, at the gun pointed at them, and at the astrolabe in his hand with the little carabiner swinging from a meridian line. "Put your guns down!" Nate shouted to them.

A pause, then the leader of the troop, who sported a prodigious mustache, called back, "Why sho-"

"Why should you?" interrupted Nate, who was not in the mood for dumb questions. "Because if you don't, I drop the astrolabe into the river to be lost forever, and I guarantee that when you get back to your boss without it, the astrolabe's not gonna be the only thing your missing. You shoot me, same thing. I drop it." He glared at them. "Now do it!"

Mustache maintained his hard, steely gaze back at him, then reluctantly conceded. "Do it, men. He's serious."

"I'm always serious," Nate shot back flippantly. Mustache raised an eyebrow but said nothing, and instead dropped his pistol to the ground. The others began following suit, dropping weapons one by one, and the guy with the RPG tried putting it back on his back while just dropping his handgun. "You-chuckles," Nate snapped. "Nice try, but the RPG goes, too."

The goon smirked and carefully placed it on the ground.

"Alright," Nate continued to dictate, "now slowly walk backwards, facing me, over there." He nodded down the path away from where they had come, and away from the pile of guns. They obeyed, and as they walked Nate crossed the bridge, hugging one side so as to keep the astrolabe suspended over the gorge, and keeping his gun trained on them. Once on the other side, he picked an AK-47 out of the pile and slung it over his back, never taking his eyes off the men who stood a short distance away at his mercy- or at least, temporarily. He regarded them, contemplating what to do now, and eventually decided to have them cross the bridge and then destroy it with the RPG, in order to get them off his back for a while.

"Alright!" Nate shouted. "First things first-" The sound of a low, throbbing hum behind him interrupted his sentence, making him turn. Coming over the cliffs was the helicopter he had seen earlier; it swooped in like an eagle descending on a fish until it stopped about a hundred feet from him, bobbing softly as it hovered level with the ledge they were on, directed so as to be squarely facing Nate, poised as the predator eying its quarry. "Oh, I'm dead," Nate muttered.

A scuffle behind him reminded Nate of the presence of the other goons and he turned to see all six of them rushing him. Quickly he dropped and grabbed the RPG and then used its long body to swipe the rest of the guns off the edge of the cliff before his opponents could arm themselves again. One of the thugs came sliding in like a runner in a baseball game as he tried to snag a weapon, Nate rewarded him for his efforts with a heel to the groin. Spinning around and sweeping the RPG in an upward arc, he caught another man under the chin and sent him flying backward and up against the cliff face. Someone else landed a punch to Nate's gut, and Nate responded by driving the butt of the RPG into their cheek and then kneeing them in the crotch. Suddenly Nate was grabbed from behind in a bear hug, and he rammed his elbow into his assailant's side over and over in an attempt to break free. Mustache chuckled as he stalked nearer to Nate and pulled out a long switchblade knife, while the helicopter lurked behind him as if just waiting for a clear shot. The grubby hands that were holding Nate captive began fumbling to try to get control of the RPG while Nate struggled against them, all the while watching the evil, glinting blade coming ever nearer and the powerful guns on the aircraft beyond. What now? he thought. Just die here on the side of the mountain?

Then he thought of Chloe, Cutter, and most of all, Sully, and how, if he failed to make it to them and the astrolabe fell into Floki's hands, their lives would immediately be of no value. No way I'm letting them die! he thought to himself. He felt a kind of power rising up in him, born not only of anger, but of a certain desperation and also recklessness. It pushed him upward and forward, helping him see beyond the raw and festering emotional wounds he was nursing and see that without him, his friends were as good as dead. It was the confidence that came from not caring what happened to himself anymore, of utter abandonment to the job at hand.

With a grunt, Nate pushed back against his captor, ramming him against the cliff and giving himself enough slack to raise his arms and line up the RPG with the helicopter. He fired, and the rocket streamed forward and struck the aircraft with a terrific explosion and a deafening roar. Mustache instinctively ducked at the noise, and Nate threw one last elbow punch into his attacker's kidney to finally break free. Tossing the RPG aside he rushed at Mustache and punched his jaw, catching him off guard. Only for a moment, though. Mustache recovered immediately and slashed the knife through the air so hard, Nate heard the whistle of displaced air. He leaped back to avoid its sting and returned his fists to a defensive position.

"You know," he said, swinging a punch to no effect as Mustache nimbly dodged. "You're really a- pain in my ass." The effort of delivering two more failed blows and then dodging another knife attack punctuated his sentence. Nate retreated a couple paces and quickly sized up his wiry assailant. "Can't blame you for your attitude, though. I think I'd be mad if I had to live with facial hair like that, too."

"Hilarious," Mustache growled, then he rushed at him, attempting to stab the knife into his gut. Nate deflected the attack to the side, but the thug followed through by bringing the bone of his forearm up and striking the bridge of Nate's nose and then wrapped his hand around his face to shove him to the ground. Nate rolled and tried to get to his feet, but the man's boot came down and shoved him a little farther, and suddenly he was falling. Screaming. Reaching out desperately for a handhold, Nate caught a lip on the girder of the bridge with the fingers of his right hand, and his momentum carried his body through an pendulum arch as he swung down. The inertia ripped his fingers free from the lip, and with another cry, Nate lashed out with his left hand and caught another girder closer to the middle of the bridge. Quickly moving his right hand to take hold as well, he dangled from the underside of the structure as footsteps clanged on the steel above him.

"Drake!" Mustache yelled, his voice echoing through the canyon. "DRAKE! Come out, you dirty rat! I'm growing tired of this game."

Meanwhile, Nate was swinging his legs to build some momentum until he was able to throw himself forward to the next girder. Listening to the steady back-and-forth pacing of the irate revolutionary above him in order to keep track of the man's position, he worked his way to the farthest feasible point on the bridge from Mustache before clambering around the edge and pulling himself back up top.

Mustache immediately turned and rushed at him, switchblade flashing, but Nate sidestepped and caught his hand in both of his. A headbutt and a knee to the stomach later, Nate had beat Mustache back as well as having stripped the weapon from his hand. Mustache reeled, stunned by the turn of events, then got caught by Nate's crushing punch to his kidney, followed immediately by a hook to the jaw. With a cry, the lead thug flew backward off the bridge and plummeted to his doom on the rocks below.

Frowning as his eyes followed the man's fall, Nate rubbed his stinging knuckles and turned away. "Never bring a knife to a Nathan Drake fight," he commented dryly as he began walking.

Chapter Text

"That's a real fixer-upper!"

Nate's comment was in reference to a metal building that was coming into view just ahead of him. He could only yet see a corner of it protruding from an outcropping about twenty yards ahead and down a little from his current position, but it was rusty and creaked in the breeze the blew by. "I guess real estate is limited when you're a miner," he observed. Carefully picking his way over some loose boulders, he plodded up to the corner of the cliff, resting his hand on the rough rock face as he edged along the ledge he was traversing. Just around the outcropping, his view opened up into the vast, sweeping landscape of a gorge that dropped hundreds of feet to the tree and scrub-growth dotted valley below and seemed to stretch out for miles ahead, the entire scene alight with the soft glow of the low-hanging evening sun. The building he had seen was perched right on the edge of this yawning expanse and was much bigger than he originally suspected, consisting of two parts: the smaller section which he had first seen which had a relatively low roof, and a wider, taller building attached to the back of that building- nearer to the gorge- with a broad, shallow-pitched roof and few windows. Thick, metal cables came from the back of the bigger building and stretched out across the valley, supported by evenly spaced iron pylons and sloping upward towards the peaks on the other side, stretching so far that the ends disappeared into the low-hanging clouds.

Surveying the stunning vista with awe, Nate hummed and put his hands on his hips. "Then again- 'location, location, location'." Returning his gaze to the cables, he added to himself, "Looks like I found my elevator. Now I just need to know if it still runs." He scratched the back of his neck, his hand bumping up against the RPG and the AK-47 he had taken from his last encounter with Floki's goons, then started walking.

Finding a gentle, scree-covered slope, Nate slid down it and approached the building, quickly finding a rusty and dented old door on the front. He tried the handle but found it locked. With a huff and a frown up at the steel-sided walls, streaked with orange and brown from oxidization and in places broken down by rust into a jagged-edged honeycomb of decay, he walked around the side of the building and found a siding panel that had come loose and was curled up on the bottom corner. Nate grabbed it, careful not to cut himself on the razor-like edges of the sheet metal (after all, when was his last tetanus shot?) and pulled up on it until he created a big enough gap to crawl through. Dust and dirt rained down on him as he squeezed through the opening on his hands and knees; the concrete slab beneath him was cold and damp, and inside the building was dark and gloomy. A wave of dank, musty odor washed over him as he stood up, and in the murky shadows before him, he could see the vague outlines of something very tall- several of them, in fact. Pulling out his angle-head flashlight, he flicked it on.

The beam of light spilled over twenty-foot high industrial racks, lined up in rows that left narrow aisles between them and each mounded with disorderly piles of equipment long forgotten. The racks filled the room wall-to-wall, except for a swath of clear floor about fifteen feet wide in which Nate currently stood. "It's some kind of warehouse," he murmured, playing the light back and forth across the room. He meandered forward a few steps, kicking a heap of moldy tarps and sending a couple rats scurrying. Scrunching his nose in disgust, he flashed the light over in the corner and found a propane forklift, its yellow paint faded and peeling and a pallet of broken concrete bags on its forks, sitting haphazardly across the open area as if someone had simply jumped off it while it was still moving and left. As Nate mused over the curious state of the abandoned compound, he suddenly heard voices very nearby; a door crashed open, and someone flicked a switch which set the few overhead lights that remained functional to glowing.

"He's here somewhere," one of the voices said. "The report said he would be getting near the gondolas by now."

"Shit!" Nate hissed under his breath, jumping quickly behind the closest rack as he saw several of Floki's goons come strolling in. Apparently he was not quick enough, though, as one of them seemed to have spotted him in the dull light that filled the decrepit room.

"There he is!" a different voice shouted. The exclamation was followed in short order by heavy gunfire directed at Nate, who crouched low behind the cross-bracing of the metal rack and a partially- rotted crate, the latter of which was being quickly blasted to bits by bullets.

"Great! Just great!" Nate pulled out his 9 mil and fired off a few shots in return, then pulled his body up as tight as possible in an attempt to take shelter behind the narrow frame of the rack. Slipping his gun back in its holster, he instead pulled out a grenade he had plundered from the revolutionaries back at the bridge. With a glance at his opponents, he pulled the pin and hurled it through the air, the ducked down to wait for the blast.

The effect was almost instantaneous. Panic and commotion set in as the goons dove for cover, the grenade went off, and Nate bolted from his hiding place, running full speed toward the forklift. As he leaped to clear a pile of buckets and shovels that was in his way, he heard the squawk of a radio.

"Backup! Send backup!"one of the thugs shouted into the radio. "He's here at the gondola station!"

Nate's feet hit the ground, but in his haste he misjudged his landing and tumbled. Desperately, he clambered to his feet and kept running, knowing the gunfire would start again any second. With a leap onto the seat of the forklift, he savagely cranked the key and the old engine whined as it turned over. Bullets began to ricochet around him once more, glancing off the roll cage of the machine. The ignition fired and the forklift sprang to life, and Nate quickly yanked on the levers to lift the pallet off the ground, then rammed the accelerator to the floor. The rear end of the lift fishtailed as he swerved into the aisle and drove directly toward his attackers, the pallet of concrete acting as a very effective shield from the gunfire, and the men began screaming and yelling as they realized what was about to happen. "Clean up on aisle four!" Nate yelled as he aimed for the corner of a rack and rammed the machine into it full-force. The henchman were jumping and scrambling away as the giant metal shelf tilted, the strained steel groaning and popping as it leaned further and further to the side, until gravity took over, and the unit fell into the adjacent rack. Both collapsed to the ground with a mighty crash of metal bars and tools and wooden crates, the noise echoed deafeningly around the warehouse to fill the air like the cloud of disturbed dust that kicked up from the impact, until both noise and dust eventually faded and silence once again filled the room, save for a few muffled groans from the men who had gotten buried under the detritus.

"Not my first time knocking over an end display," Nate muttered as he surveyed the damage. Suddenly he heard the door at the end he had entered on crash open, and he looked over his shoulder to see more henchmen swarming in. As bullets whistled, Nate groaned and added, "And now these guys look like they want to talk to the manager!" His eye fell on the propane tank mounted directly behind him on the forklift. "Oh crap, not good!"

Leaping from the lift, he scrambled onto the twisted metal side of the fallen rack, now laying at a steep angle towards the corner of the building. Bounding over a broken crate, Nate swung down on the crossbar of the rack and landed by the door, now pinned open by the mound of debris that had spilled from the shelves. He ducked and threw his arms over his head as bullets pinged off the walls around him and he dashed through the door just as the inevitable happened and the propane tank exploded, caught in the savage onslaught. The blast knocked Nate to the ground as the whole building shook with the shock wave.

He was back on his feet in seconds, his heavy steps pounding the concrete as he ran for all he was worth, not wanting to take chances with any survivors there may be behind him or with the backup who would be arriving any time. Before him lay several cable cars, lined up in a trench down the middle of the building, just waiting to depart through the massive open bay at the other end through which the late day sunshine poured in. Nate's joints ached from the amount of times they had made hard contact with the ground that day, but he pushed through the sensations as he careened up to the car at the front of the line and ducked into it, muttering "C'mon, c'mon, c'mon..." as he scanned over the few controls present inside. Finding what he was looking for, he rammed a lever forward and stepped back from the modest control panel.

A low, barely audible hum started up from somewhere in the building, and Nate glanced anxiously around. For a long minute nothing happened, and he was beginning to despair of using the gondola at all when suddenly the car lurched forward hard enough that Nate fell to the ground- again. A mechanical groan and a squeal pierced the air, and the gondola began moving along its cable toward the bay. Nate picked himself up, more than a little irritated at his constant bouts with gravity, and mumbled, "Gonna need my knees replaced before I'm goddamn fifty..."

The sunlight slanted across the car, starting at its nose and slipping backward along its length as it edged its way out of the hangar, and before long Nate was climbing steadily higher above the valley as the old trolley rattled its way up the cable, carrying him far away from any goons left on the other side. When he was far enough away from the hangar to make out any detail through the open bay door, he finally allowed himself a satisfied grin, and he leaned his elbows on the edge of the window to gaze out at the breathtaking landscape below. Grateful for the breather, he chuckled to himself.

"Y'know, it's moments like these that really make treasure hunting worth it. I mean, look at the view!" His smile grew as he observed the golden, waving grasses far below speckled with intermittent trees and a meandering river snaking through the gorge. "This is the kind of stuff you really want a camera for!" It didn't take long for him to follow that line of thought to its obvious conclusion, and his smile disappeared just as quickly as it came, a scowl replacing it. "Whatever," he breathed. "Gotta stay focused- get to Sully and the others!"

He continued to sulk at the window of the cable car as it put the hangar further behind and the valley further below, climbing slowly enough that Nate was beginning to resent how much time it would allow him to agonize with himself. He was only pulled out of his introspection by a few dots that appeared on the horizon, starting small but quickly increasing in size as they flew his way. "What the heck?" he said to himself, his expression contorting into one of confusion.

His eyes gradually widened as the shapes became more distinct, and he swallowed a growing lump in his throat. "Those are no birds."

He glanced over his shoulder and saw that another car had left the hangar and was creeping up the cables behind him. "Oh no, not good," he said. The car was moving at the same speed as his, meaning it couldn't possibly catch up unless his car quit, but he knew that this was the backup the guys at the warehouse had called in, and he was guessing they weren't going to be very happy. Standing straight, he pulled the RPG from his back and checked his ammunition: two rockets. Just two rockets.

"Ahh, perfect." he loaded one into the gun and returned his gaze to the dots on the horizon, which had now gotten close enough to resolve themselves into the shape of airplanes, and they were definitely packing guns. A noise came from behind and Nate turned to see a helicopter approaching from the other direction. The chopper had sneaked up on him and was within firing range, an oppurtunity it availed itself of as it fired a warning enfilade at the gondola. "Shit!" Nate cursed, dropping down to avoid getting hit.

Tempting as it was to blow the chopper out of the sky with the RPG, Nate decided to save his ammo for the planes, which he guessed were probably packing the greater firepower out of the two. Instead, he pulled the machine gun off his back and raked a line of bullets down the side of the cockpit, and the chopper pulled away to circle around again. Nate whirled around to meet the planes and was startled to find them practically on top of him- heavy machine gun fire strafed the gondola and he staggered to the side, catching himself on the window frame for support as the whole car shook from the impact. He tried to recover fast enough to shoot one of the other planes behind it, but they were too fast, roaring overhead after each taking a potshot at what was- comparatively speaking- nearly a stationary target. As the planes roared off to a safe distance away to turn around and take another shot at him, Nate growled to himself about the absurdity of the fight: Compared to their speed and maneuverability, he was literally a sitting duck! "This is so not good!" he said to himself. "I've gotta do something fast!"

Instead of simply banking around on a lateral turning path, one of the jets decided to nose directly up, cutting across the setting sun which silhouetted it dramatically against the blood-red sky for a moment before corkscrewing around to head his direction again. "Goddamn show-off!" Nate yelled, bracing the RPG against his shoulder as they approached him. The sunlight shone off the tips of the wings as the fighter jet screamed toward him, the unforgiving sky a gleaming orange, a red-hot griddle suspended in the atmosphere. Nate gritted his teeth, knowing that their guns had a far greater range than his. "Like hell you're stopping me from getting my friends out of here! I'll rescue them even if its over my dead body!" He leaned his shoulder against the side of the car bracing himself for the inevitable impact, and lined up his sights.

Ratta-tat-tat-tat-tat! The cable car shook with the force of heavy artillery, and Nate squeezed his eyes shut and fired, then a second later slipped halfway down the wall as he lost his footing. The rocket streamed through the air and collided with a plane, taking out its port side wing and sending it into a tailspin to crash in the valley below. Nate shot back up, pumping his fist in the air and letting out a whoop. "Yeah! Take that, you son of a-"

Another shot shook the car, and it suddenly lurched to a stop, Nate once more catching himself on the window. Craning his neck, he looked around the top of the gondola car and saw something in the trolley mechanism sparking, and his stomach turned over. "Oh crap!" he said. "Dead in the water!"

Glancing behind him, he saw that the other cable car was now making quick headway on him, while to his right the remaining airplanes and the helicopter were banking around for another swipe. From the other direction, coming down the opposite cable toward him, he saw another gondola, still a good half mile away, but he thought he could make out a turret mounted along the side of it. He growled. "I'd ask if this could get any worse if I wasn't afraid of jinxing myself!"

The helicopter reached him first and opened fire on him, and Nate returned for all he was worth, strafing the side of the chopper with bullets from his AK. The helicopter roared by again, seemingly content to just be an annoyance while the bigger guns on the planes took their toll on him. He set his jaw and put the machine gun on his back, intending to pull out the RPG for its last rocket as the planes came in for another round. He was distracted by hoots and cheers from the gondola approaching from behind, and when he looked back at the planes, his heart dropped into his boots.

A flash of light emitted from the lead aircraft in the formation, a sight which Nate knew very well what it was. "Missiles?" he squawked, his voice cracking from the stress he was under at the moment. "Oh, no,no,no." He looked frantically around as the projectile ripped through the sky toward him with the promise of a sudden death if he didn't think of something quickly. As the moments dwindled, Nate leaped into the rear window of the cable car, pulled out his handgun, and then jumped out of the gondola, hooking the crook of his pistol around the cable to zipline down it. A moment later he heard the explosion of the missile hitting the gondola he had just left, and with a quick glance down he saw the car plummeting in a ball of fire to the earth below.

The wind whipped by his ears as he sped toward the cable car behind him on the and he gritted his teeth as he focused in on his landing zone, knowing he had to time his release perfectly to make it through the window of the car. "Got room for one more?" he shouted in response to the shocked looks he saw on the faces of the goons inside the car. They raised their weapons to try to shoot, but before they could even get a bullet off Nate was upon them, crashing through the front window of the car and using his momentum to deliver a crushing blow to the nearest thug, sending the man sprawling unconscious on the floor. The next runner up received a kick to the crotch before Nate grabbed him by the shoulders and hurled him out the side of the car, and the third was promptly dispatched with a single bullet from Nate's 9 mil.

Taking a moment to survey the damage he had just wreaked, he quipped, "This is why I was never popular on car rides." His monologue was interrupted by a blast of gunfire that shook the gondola as another plane flew by. "Damn!"

He whirled around and pulled the AK-47 from his back and managed to squeeze off a burst at the last of the jets as they passed, but the rounds did little to injure the armored aircraft. As they regrouped for another strike, Nate turned and surveyed the control panel of the gondola as an idea formed in his mind. "I think I just have to hold out until that car on the outbound side gets closer- then I can take control of that turret and reverse the car's direction to keep climbing!"

Bracing the machine gun in the crook of his arm, Nate sighed in resignation as he watched the planes finish their turn and begin the trip back to him. "Why do I feel like I've done this before?"

From his position in the compound he could see the ridge, beyond which lay the gorge which he had heard the nuisance of a man they called Drake was currently crossing via cable car. He could not see the battle that was raging at that moment, but he could see some of the effects of it, and as another thin plume of black smoke trailed up into the sky from what he knew was another plane going down, Garnier leaned forward on the windowsill and steepled his fingers under his nose, his eyes narrowed, a low, dark sigh escaping his lips.

The door behind him creaked open on rusty hinges and then shut just as noisily. From the weight of the footfalls entering the room, it didn't take a genius to know who it was, thus Garnier addressed the person without looking. "Do you see that smoke, Floki?"

Silence. Then a low rumble, "I'm blind in one eye, not two, monsieur." The last word was spoken with a mocking tone.

Mathis turned to face the big Icelander, deciding to spell it out for him anyway. "That is one of your planes meeting an untimely end. More and more of your men are falling, all to just one man." He chuckled humorlessly. "So much for all that confidence in your team's ability."

Floki grimaced, more and more disgusted by this Frenchman he was forced to put up with every passing interaction. "The fight is not over. Drake is a very lucky man, but his luck is bound to run out eventually."

"You underestimate him," Garnier said in no uncertain tone. "That has been your problem this whole time- you think too little of his capabilities. You act as though he's a minor inconvenience, a mere schoolboy to be overlooked." He scoffed. "The reality is that he's at least your equal, a titan of treasure hunting. I would suggest you take your job a bit more seriously."

"You, I suppose on the contrary, think very highly of him," Floki said sullenly, then scoffed. "Shame he was too smart to work for you."

Garnier snarled and crossed his arms. "If you cost me my opportunity for global recognition, Floki, I swear- to god- I will haunt you for the rest of your days. I will hunt you down and make you die a miserable and painful death!"

"That's if you're not dead yourself by the time this is over," the Icelander retorted. "You are just like Alexander- convinced of your own entitlement to fame and glory!" He spat on the ground at Garnier's feet. "If Drake doesn't kill you, someone else will get tired of you and your ego and take a shot of their own." Turning away to walk out of the room, Floki added over his shoulder, "You'd better hope it's not me."

As the door slammed behind the big brute, Garnier heaved a sigh, his brow furrowing, and said to himself, "We seem to have reached the unfortunate position of being mutually antagonistic and mutually dependent on each other." His frown twisted a little more. "The race begins to see who will claim the ultimate glory."

Meanwhile, walking at a brisk pace down the hall outside the room the Frenchman was in, Floki addressed the man he considered to be his second-in-command, an equally muscle-bound specimen with a bald head, impossibly square jaw, and vast shoulders. "Baldur," Floki snapped, "get the men ready for a fight. The American's going to be here soon, and we will raise hell for him when he comes!"

Chapter Text

Nate crouched low, braced against the wall of the cable car just below the window as a maelstrom of machine gun fire beat on the outside of it, making the whole car tremble like a flag in a gale. From the proximity of the noise, he could tell that the gondola was very close now, which meant if his plan was going to work, he would need to swap cars soon. Squeezing his eyes shut as the thundering of bullets hit a crescendo, Nate tightened his grip on the AK-47 in his hands and waited for an opening.

"When I get home, I'm doing some serious soul-searching to find out what it is about me that has this effect on people!" he said, raising his voice over the din even though he was talking to himself. A moment later the fact he had done so struck him as odd, but before he had time to think much of it, the gunfire paused as the magazine was spent and the thugs hurried to reload it. "Now or never!" he muttered, standing up and leaping onto the side of the car.

Bending his knees, he launched off to clear the wide gap between him and the other gondola, scarcely giving a thought to the dizzying drop below him, his arms stretched in front of him to catch the other side. He saw the surprised looks on the faces of the three thugs in the gondola, though whether the surprise was over the fact that he was suddenly coming at them or over the insanity of the jump he was currently making was anyone's guess. Nate's fingers flexed to the utmost to catch the bottom lip of the rail on the cable car, and one sweaty hand slipped off as the weight of his body jerked at his precarious grip. As he wrenched himself around to grab hold again, he saw the thug who had been at the turret lean over the side, and instead of grabbing the rail he reached for the collar of the man's shirt and pulled him over the edge of the gondola. As the goon's screams faded into the vast expanse below them, Nate threw himself up and vaulted the rail of the car, immediately going on the offensive to meet the remaining two. Delivering a quick elbow to the chest of the first thug, he followed quickly by kicking the second between the legs, and after a short scrimmage one thug lay unconscious on the floor of the cable car while the other had met a similar fate as the first after being thrown over the side. Nate wasted no time in taking control of the turret as the planes circled around yet again to strafe their target. Whirling the heavy machine gun around, Nate held down the trigger and unleashed a storm of bullets at the aircraft, finally feeling like he was able to give tit for tat for the first time since this skirmish began.

"Yeah! How's it feel gettin' some back?" Nate crowed as he promptly shot down a plane in a glorious display of pyrotechnics. The previously untouched gondola car was shelled heavily as the jets passed, but Nate made sure to return the favor by catching the tail sections of the aircraft when they had gone by. Taking a wide stance in preparation for the next bombardment, Nate took a look over his shoulder at the gondola station that was approaching at the high end of the cables. "Almost there," he reassured himself. "Just gotta last a little longer, and I'll be all clear!"

"I'm telling you, he's gotta be almost here," Sully said, looking at the wall beyond which they would be able to see the descent toward the gondola station attached to the mine, if only their room had windows in it. "Knowing Nate, he'll come kicking down our door any time now."

Cutter raised an eyebrow, peering at Sullivan from where he sat on the floor with his head leaned against the wall. His nose was itching something fierce, but he had not discovered a satisfactory way to scratch it being that his hands were still tied behind his back. "Are you trying to reassure yourself of your imminent freedom, or your imminent ability to light up?" Charlie asked dryly, nodding his head toward the unlit cigar that Sully had managed to get in his mouth, despite being similarly restrained. Even if the old man had been able to somehow light it, Cutter and Chloe had voted out the possibility of ignition in the completely non-ventilated room they had been stuck in, for fear of asphyxiation, or at least of generally unpleasant odors.

Sully frowned at him. "Yes," he replied, sinking into a sitting position across from the Brit.

Cutter chuckled and shook his head.

A few minutes of relative silence followed until Chloe, who was completing the treasure hunter triangle by sitting in the middle of the wall adjacent to both of her male companions, piped up, "Anyone game for I Spy?"

"Really?" Sully smirked and ran his eyes around the room, soaking in the austerity of the bare walls and grimy floor. "Sure. You go first," he said.

With a smile at the absurdity of her proposition, Chloe considered carefully, then, to no one's surprise, started with, "I spy... something gray."

"The general mood of this entire hell-hole," Sully immediately guessed.

"The sky over London down by the river Thames," Cutter called. When the other two looked quizzically at him, he shrugged. "What? Sorry, I was daydreaming."

"Well, you're both wrong," Chloe said. "It's not dour dispositions or stormy skies. It's-"

The door was suddenly kicked open in a way that they had come to recognize as a sort of trademark entry of the bizarre Scandinavian man who was the leader of this band of half-baked insurrectionists. True to form, Floki's bulky boot was next to enter the room, followed by the burly redhead himself. "Visitation time!" he roared. "How're my prisoners doing?"

"A lot better before you showed up," Sully growled.

Floki sneered at him. "Well, then you should be thrilled to know that you won't have to put up with me much longer. Your friend Drake is nearly within our grasp. Once he's secured, along with the astrolabe, we can move on to putting you three out of your misery."

"And you just came to rub it in our faces a bit?" Chloe asked sarcastically.

A slimy smile spread across Floki's face. "And to give you notice so you can make any final prayers, meal requests, the like. Can't promise I'll care, but you can make them anyway..."

"Meal requests? Hmmm..." Sully said, stroking his chin in mock contemplation. "I'm no cannibal, but the idea of you roasting on a spit is real tempting right now."

Holding up a finger as if the thought had just occurred to him, Floki addressed Chloe with feigned cheeriness. "Oh, by the way, I suppose you can have your phone back now, seeing as my little trap worked so well." He slid the device out of his pocket as Chloe mumbled an "It's about time" under her breath, then he sighed dramatically as he looked at it. "Pity your hands are tied, though. Oh well," He shrugged, then slammed the phone into the wall without warning, making all three of his prisoners jump. Glass tinkled down the wall from the shattered screen, and he opened his hand to let the crumpled and broken object fall desolately to the ground.

"Hey, come on!" Chloe objected. She glowered at the worthless pile of trash that had once been her phone and groused, "Second one this year..."

Floki turned to the door, throwing one last leer at them over his shoulder. "Enjoy your final day- give or take a few hours, that is."

"Let's give those hours, if it's all the same to you," Charlie piped up as the door swung shut. "I quite enjoy my life."

The butt of the machine gun juddered violently against Nate's chest as he held the trigger down, teeth clenched and knuckles white, while the gun roared and sprayed a continuous stream of bullets out of it's muzzle as he followed his target across the sky. An explosion, followed by a billowing fireball crashing into the gorge, and Nathan let out a victorious cry.

"Only two more!" he said eagerly. "Just two more! I got this!" Over the front of the cable car, he could see the station drawing ever nearer. "I got this, I got this..."

The planes looped around, following the same circuit they had been repeatedly executing for the last twenty minutes. Nate lined up the sights of the turret and squinted down the barrel, oblivious to the figure that was rising slowly behind him. "Come and get it boys..." he muttered.

Suddenly he was grabbed by his shirt from behind and ripped back away from the turret, then immediately slammed forward into it again so that the butt of the gun smashed into his rib cage, knocking the wind out of him. He grunted in pain as he was jerked backward again like a rag doll, and he saw the face of the man he had knocked unconscious after boarding the gondola. The thug began running, growling in rage and shoving him in front of him toward the edge of the car. Before Nate could even react he was being tossed over the side, and would have cleared it entirely if he hadn't hooked the rail with the toe of his right boot, which helped him swing just close enough to the car that he could grab onto the landing skid on the bottom. He gasped in surprise and swung onto a crossbar in the middle of the car just in case the thug leaned over to attack him from above. As he dangled from the bottom of the gondola, he looked toward the two fighter jets screaming toward him. His face fell.

"Ah, crap," he grumbled, tightening his grip on the metal bar he was clinging to. "This is why you never leave loose ends- they always come back to bite you!"

In the leading plane of the remaining duo, one of Floki's thugs lined up with his target directly in front of him: a slowly moving gondola that was within ten yards of the station, with one thorn-in-the-side American dangling from underneath. A thin smile spread across his face, causing wrinkles to appear on his stubbly cheeks near the corners of his mouth. Through the windshield of the plane, he could see the tiny silhouette of Drake hanging from the bottom of the gondola like a frog clinging to the underside of a branch in the scarlet of evening- helpless, hopeless, and moments from his ultimate demise. It was almost a pity, he thought, the way he had gotten so close to making it to the end of the gondola line only to be destroyed within a stone's throw of safety. His grin broadened and he spoke into the radio that was built into his helmet, hailing the only other remaining pilot of the squadron that had come out.

"Locked on to target- Drake just got thrown over the side, and he's a sitting duck dangling from the car like that." His eyes shone as he pulled slightly up on the yoke. "I'll take out the whole car and make a clean sweep of him."

After a moment, the other pilot's reply crackled through. "The whole car? One of our men is still on there!"

The first pilot considered this, then spoke callously, "It's fine, not like he has a family or something." He made another small adjustment to the plane's attitude, as the other pilot mumbled a reply, then he spoke a simple command to his copilot. "Fire the missile."

There was a flash, and the rocket streamed out before him, leaving a wake trail behind it to linger in the sky. It struck home, exploding on the trolley, destroying it and severing the cable, the latter of which snapped back like a rubber band, snaking viciously through the air until it hit the previous pylon. The cable car plummeted, going through an impressive display of flips and twists before ultimately crashing on the valley floor in an ignominious heap of twisted and smoking scrap metal.

"Kveðja, Nathan Drake," he said with a smirk, then twisted the yoke to fly away and addressed the other pilot. "Mission accomplished. Let's go back and tell the boss."

Nate stared at the plane, watching as it ran him down, and he knew there was almost nothing he could do about it. Except maybe hope he misses, that was something. "This is not good," he muttered to himself for the umpteenth time that day, flashing a glance to his right to see the pylons that supported the edge of the gondola station looming almost near enough to reach out and grab. "Just, like, thirty more seconds, and-" he looked back just in time to see a flash of light from the leading fighter jet.

"Crap."

The missile exploded directly above him, and his heart and stomach both seemed to make the trip to the bottoms of his feet and then all the way back up into his throat as the car was suddenly in a free fall, spinning end over end as it barreled toward destruction. As he hung on for dear life, Nate managed to plant his feet against the bottom of the gondola, poised in a sort of crouch on the skid as it spun like a carnival ride from hell. Everything was a blur- the open sky, the hard, unforgiving earth below, and the foundations of the gondola station all passing by in an indecipherable swirl that was absolutely nauseating in its effect as Nate tried to time a jump to the pylons nearby. In desperation, he gave up and flung himself blindly from the car, screaming as he tumbled out of control while flying through the air like an insect hurled from the end of a stick. Somewhere nearby there was a tremendous crash as the cable car hit the ground. Nate's back slammed against the cold, hard steel of the pylon, the impact bracing, snapping him back to reality after the sickening g-forces he had just experienced, and his body began to plummet. He realized in an instant that he was falling headfirst, having apparently hit the pylon upside down, and he panicked, putting his legs out straight in front of him to help turn himself right side up. His body flipped over, and Nate reached frantically for the pylon, grabbing onto the angle iron that zig-zagged up its length, and smashed into the metal again as his fall was arrested. From sheer exhaustion, he let go with one hand.

Everything hurt. Everything was tired. As his left arm fell limply to his side, Nate groaned and shut his eyes. That last thirty seconds had been hell, and it was a wonder he had survived. "Everything... so sore..." he mumbled, voice hoarse from exertion. "Arm's cramping, I think I hyper-extended my knee... now here I am, dangling from the underbelly of a gondola station, high in the Atlas mountains, after getting shot down by a fighter jet." He scoffed. "When you put it that way, days just don't get much better than this. At least, not unless it's a train in the Himalayas."

His right hand was slick with sweat and the fingers were beginning to slip off the pylon, so Nate quickly shook his other arm to loosen it up and then returned it to helping support himself. His toes found a hold on the angle iron lower down, he pushed himself up to take the load off his arms, and then he just rested there for a moment, breathing heavily as he took a more serious stock of the situation. He looked above him at the rusty and grimy underside of the platform, then down at the broken remains of the cable car, laying in a cloud of dust on the terra-cotta colored earth not so far below him now. A Barbary sheep bounded away as he watched, being frightened by the crash. Turning his gaze upward again, he climbed the pylon like a ladder, steadily working his way to the station. At the top, he heaved himself around the edge and rolled onto his back on the platform, letting his arm flop over his chest and his head fall back against the steel. He sighed heavily and closed his eyes for a minute.

"When I get home, I need a strong drink... a lot of life insurance... and a vacation," he said. Finally getting to his feet, he slid his pistol out of its holster, loaded a fresh clip, and pulled the slide back. "Home... 's a long way from here," he mumbled as he walked slowly into the yawning mouth of the gondola station.

"Drake is dead, sir!" the pilot announced, giving a quick salute to Floki. The redheaded leader of the revolutionaries looked at him skeptically, running his eyes down the man as if he thought he was hiding something on his person.

"He's dead?"

"Yes sir," the pilot replied eagerly.

Floki narrowed his eyes at him. "How do you know? Did you see his body?"

Undaunted by his leader's cynicism, the pilot replied, "I shot down his gondola with a missile while he was hanging from the bottom. There's no way he survived it. It's not possible."

Still stoic, the redhead turned on his heel and began walking down the corridor. "How many planes survived the battle?"

Walking beside his leader, the pilot answered, "My own and one more were the only ones not shot down."

Floki uttered profanities as he turned sharply around a bend in the hall. "Very well. Where's the astrolabe?"

Immediately the pilot's face darkened, he slowed his pace and then halted entirely, a look of trepidation washing over him. Floki stopped as well when he realized the man was no longer walking with him, and he turned to face the nervous insurgent behind him. "The, uh, astrolabe, sir?" the pilot asked.

"Yes, the astrolabe," Floki repeated patronizingly.

Thinking quickly, the pilot stammered, "We can send someone to retrieve it! He fell just before the station, I'm sure that-" his frantic rambling was interrupted by the explosion of a shot being fired from a handgun, and the pilot slumped lifelessly to the floor. Tucking the smoking pistol back into its holster, Floki continued walking through the dank corridors of the complex.

"I'd say it's time I gave my prisoners another visit," he said, his anger still seething at the pilot's incompetent handling of the situation at the gondola. He pulled out a radio and barked into it, "Baldur! I need some men over to the east wing of the complex to help me dispose of the rubbish! Also, send some scouts out to investigate the wreckage of the cable car and see if they can retrieve the artifact that our idiot comrades neglected to secure." He waited to receive confirmation from his lieutenant that the orders would be followed, then jammed the radio back onto his belt. "This is going to go my way- whatever it takes!"

Nate peered around the corner, cautiously scanning for guards before sprinting down the next corridor of the complex. So far, he had yet to encounter resistance since arriving at the gondola station, and he didn't know what to make of that. He figured either- best case scenario- he had significantly thinned out Floki's resources, or they thought he was dead, or- worst case scenario- they had already moved on, having either killed his friends or brought them as captives. That third option was one he didn't care to consider for very long.

After turning another bend in the hall, he was startled to see the lifeless body of one of Floki's thugs slumped in the middle of the floor. He regarded the fallen revolutionary curiously as he passed- had Sully and the others already escaped? Or was Floki beginning to crack under the stress and lashing out like a loose cannon? He peeked around the next corner he got to and then immediately drew back as a small company of thugs went trotting by. The men chatted in a way that seemed relaxed, and even casual, as they passed; their footsteps faded, and only then did Nate dare another look before continuing on.

"They seemed awfully cheery," he murmured to himself, "which means it's not real likely that the gang's gotten loose. I'd better hurry."

He had a couple more close encounters with almost running into goons as he worked his way through the compound, but managed to stay below the radar for the time being. It was as he was passing one of the many rusty and windowless doors that he heard a familiar voice from inside that caught his attention.

"...no, it's a bad idea because this room has about the same amount of source material as a waiting room at the local clinic- in other words, very, very bad for 'I spy'," Charlie was saying.

"Alright, fine," said a familiar Aussie voice. "Charades?" Chloe asked hopefully.

Nate chuckled to himself and leaned against the door, relief washing over him as he felt some of the tension that had built up over the last few days lift from his shoulders. Just hearing the familiar sound of Chloe and Charlie's voices felt like making it back to a friendly country after being stuck behind enemy lines. Quickly, he knelt down and set to work picking the lock as the voices continued on the other side.

"Charades?" Sully growled. "I've got one- I'm doing it now, it's a charade of a guy being held captive by an evil maniac in an abandoned mine."

The lock sprung and Nate shoved open the door, striding in with the command of a superhero rescuing someone from a burning building. "Nate!" Chloe cried, kipping up to her feet.

"About time, kid," Sully said eagerly, pushing himself up the wall to stand. "I was startin' to worry about you." Looking him over and noticing the evidence of his many scuffles on the way, Sully whistled through his teeth. "God, you're a sight for sore eyes."

Nate chuckled as he flipped open his pocket knife and set to work on cutting each of their wrists free. "Yeah, well... good to see you all alive and in one piece!" He cut the ropes free from Sully's hands, and his mentor gave him a brief bro hug.

"Good to see you, Nate," Sully said with a smile.

Nate smiled back and then turned to cut loose Chloe and then finally Charlie. As his bindings fell to the ground with a soft thud, the Englishman rubbed his sore wrists and asked, "I trust you gave 'em hell on the way?"

Nate grinned a toothy grin and replied, "If by hell you mean, 'shot down four or five planes and two helicopters', then yes, I gave 'em hell."

"That's my boy," Charlie said, slapping his shoulder.

"Sorry to drag you back into this so soon," Chloe said sincerely. "I hope you got the time you needed to sort everything out with Elena before Thing One called you from my phone." She gestured vaguely to the pile of splintered glass and plastic in the corner of the room.

Nate's smile faded, then morphed entirely into a frown as he looked at her, stunned for a second by the thoughts her question had allowed to so rudely barge into his mind and upset his hero groove he had gotten into. Turning quickly to hide the darkened expression that came over him, he said in what he hoped was a convincingly normal tone, "Yeah, it's good. I'm all fine. It's all fine." Retrieving his gun from its holster, he held it up by his face and jerked his head toward the door. "Come on, we'd better get out of here before Floki and his guys find us."

As Nate led the way out the door, Chloe looked questioningly at Sully, who shrugged. They followed him out into the hallway and walked at a brisk pace through the building, and Nate handed the AK-47 he still had to Chloe as they went. They didn't make it far. As they rounded the second corner, they came face to face with the red headed Icelander and the small group of revolutionaries tailing him and both groups stopped and stared at each other.

"Oh, Christ," Chloe groaned.

Floki and all his men pointed their weapons at the treasure hunters while Nate and Chloe leveled their weapons at them, and Floki's eyes narrowed as they flicked back and forth over the group before him. "Drake," he said cautiously, as if uncertain of what was about to happen. He paused and visibly tightened his grip on his handgun. "I suppose that in the spirit of optimism, I should be glad that I still get the honor of killing you." He cocked his head to the side and snarled. "In the spirit of realism, however, my pilot should be glad he's already dead, otherwise I'd kill him again." He wagged his gun at the item dangling from Nate's holsters. "The astrolabe, my pesky friend!"

Nate scoffed. "Yeah, not gonna happen.."

Floki threw his head back and waved his arm impatiently. "Come on. The chips are down, and you're outnumbered and outgunned. Just give it over, dammit. You've got no leverage, now."

"Just let us go free, and you can have the astrolabe, okay?" Nate said, unwavering. "Let's just be reasonable, here."

Floki barked out a laugh and took a couple steps forward, his men tightening up their aim in response to his more dangerous proximity to Nate and his gang. "I've got a better idea!" the brutish insurgent growled, his voice sinister as he glared at them. "You give me the astrolabe, and I give you your head-" he paused for dramatic effect, "on a stake!"

"That sounds quite reasonable, actually," Elena said, leaning back in her chair in her employer's New York office. She finished scanning the last few lines of the documents her new boss, Angela, had given her, and then closed the file, placing it on the desk between them.

"I thought you'd like it," Angela smiled, brushing some imaginary dust off the sleeve of her immaculately tailored navy blazer before retrieving the file. "We've been needing someone with your drive, energy, and determination. I think you'll be perfect for the job, and you and Connie will be a great team." As she tapped the papers on the desk to consolidate them, she gave a more conspiratorial smile. "Plus there's the benefits: Yemen's a new country to see, you'll have better pay, and then there's the company gala coming up this summer."

"The gala?" Elena asked, crossing her legs and smoothing her skirt over them.

"Every year we throw a party to thank our sponsors and contacts for their help and donations," Angela shrugged as a gesture of false modesty. "It's kind of a big deal."

"How generous of you," Elena said, and was proud of herself that she almost meant it.

"Of course," her boss added in a tone that made it clear she was about to reveal the ulterior motive behind it all. "It's also great for networking and exposure, so it works in our favor also."

"Of course." Elena gave a thin smile.

After covering a few more minor details, Angela shook Elena's hand and dismissed her from her office. Elena felt happy as she walked to the door: A new position that was both better paying and higher profile, new coworkers and contacts to meet and befriend, new scenery, and better benefits- what more could she ask for?

She turned the knob and slipped out into the hallway, letting the door swing shut behind her. Lifting her eyes as she turned to walk away, her gaze suddenly caught on a picture that was hanging on the wall directly opposite Angela's office. It was one of those "inspirational" pictures that probably cost ten dollars at a craft store somewhere: A photo of a man climbing a cliff as the sun went down and a river ran below. Beneath the picture was some cheesy anecdote, something about "Determination" or "Resilience" or something. She lingered, her expression quizzical as a strange feeling crept into her- something she couldn't quite place. Her eyes searched the picture, gradually widening as they zeroed in on the man climbing, and the world around her seemed to fade. All she could see was the person clinging to the face of the cliff, scaling it with apparent ease, smiling as he went, and damn if he wasn't wearing a Henley too! Her face became more and more troubled as she stared intently at the picture.

That mountain, that sunset, that look of excitement! Was that what Nate was doing right now, hanging off some mountain somewhere, growing ever nearer the fabled city of Atlantis? What had transpired since she left him on the dock in Xi'an? Had he seen her letter yet?

Was he even still alive?

A pained look crossed her face at that last thought. Damn it, Nate, don't be dead! In her minds eye, it was as if she could picture the glint of Sir Francis Drake's ring hanging in the open placket of the man's shirt, the talisman that was Nate's pride and motivation and inspiration. Did she miss it? The adventure? Surely not... did she?

"Mrs. Fisher?"

"Mrs. Fisher?"

Elena snapped back to the present, realizing that a voice had been calling her multiple times as she stood, all but leaning on Angela's office door and motionless since stepping out of the room. She looked down at herself and realized what a sight she must be, and quickly stepped away from the door, tugging on the hem of her shirt nervously as she met eyes with Liz, the source of the voice calling her. Clearing her throat, Elena said as naturally as possible, "Yes, hi! Liz, uhh, how are you?"

Liz's shoulder length tresses of curly brown hair framed a face frozen in concern, eyes wide and staring unblinkingly at Elena,bright red lips slightly parted in wonder, and a steaming cup of coffee held in her right hand where it had been forgotten on its way to her mouth. The woman's brows knitted together, and she asked candidly, "Are you okay, Mrs. Fisher?"

Elena hesitated, looking away and biting her lip. "I'm fine," she finally said, mustering a smile. "Just, um, just remembered something, that's all." She turned to walk away, then thought again and added in an aside to Liz, "And, please, just call me Elena."

Chapter Text

An explosion rattled the corridor, bits and pieces of the detonated propane tank flying through the air and making Nate and company duck and cover their heads as they sprinted down the hall. Being at the rear of his group, Nate was back to firing over his shoulder at their pursuers as soon as the blast was finished, while Chloe shouted directions from the lead.

"Watch out for that toolbox!" her voice cut through the din, warning the others behind her. It came too late to keep Nate from tripping on the stray object which was sitting in the middle of the floor, and he tumbled head over heels with a cry of surprise. Charlie heard him go down and turned to cover for him, firing rapid shots from his pistol and driving Floki's goons back around the corner for shelter. Nate was on his feet again, and Charlie rushed ahead through an open steel door into the adjoining hall. Firing blindly around the rusty door as he swung it closed, Nate kept the thugs at bay as he slammed and locked it behind them. It would only be a temporary setback, he knew, but in times like these, every second counted. Not a moment's hesitation passed and his footsteps were thundering down the corridor after his teammates.

This section of the mine's superstructure was set up in a roughly horseshoe shape, besides a few short hallways branching off the main body of the building, with the two legs of the horseshoe on the two sides of the river, and a bridge connecting them on one end. In the middle of the "U" was a collection of pipes, hoppers, and conveyor belts for processing the raw material produced down inside the mine's many dark shafts that were cut into the mountain, and at the open end of the horseshoe a small, flat plot of land was cut out of the side of the river on which sat some abandoned machines that had at one time fed the hungry rock crushers. Nate's rescue had begun on one end of the "U", where it connected to the gondola station, and now they had been chased almost all the way to the other end of it, where they hoped to find an exit back onto the mountain. Overall, he reflected to himself while chugging his legs furiously, things had gone pretty well since making it off the cable cars. Which probably meant something was about to hit the fan.

Windows whipped by Nate in a blur as he kept step with his partners, only a pace or two behind Charlie, while Sully and Chloe were in the lead by several yards. His teeth gritted in determination, he was leaning even harder into his run when the windows blew out behind him, and Nate and Cutter both instinctively dropped to the ground. Shielding their heads as machine gun fire came from the opposite side of the river, sweeping down the hall and showering them in a storm of glass shards, the two men crouched low behind the protection of the wall until it all blew over. Up ahead, with their backs pressed to the wall beyond the last shattered pane, Chloe and Sully called to them to make a break for it.

"C'mon, mate," Charlie said, slapping Nate's shoulder. "Let's run!" The Englishman bolted, still keeping as low as possible in case of another strafe of gunfire, and Nate pulled himself up to follow. He started running, also at a half crouch, when he heard Chloe scream.

"RPG, RPG!"

Oh crap. Nate reigned himself in and frantically looked in the direction she was pointing. "Get down, get down!" someone shouted. Nate tried to move, do something, but suddenly it was like he had two left feet and he just ended up tripping and falling on his backside. An explosion erupted a few yards ahead, between him and the others, and everything was a confused jumble of flames and smoke and flying debris. Nate's vision went white as he was temporarily blinded by the flash, and his ears were ringing painfully; he found himself reduced to curling up on the floor to protect himself from falling rubble until everything cleared out enough for him to see, or even hear, again. When he could finally make sense of anything, he was faced with another alarming reality.

That last explosion seemed to have pushed the dilapidated building past its limits: the corroded supports beams were giving way under the strain, and the corridor was now dipping down at a steep angle toward the river. Some fifteen feet above him, Chloe and Sully peered out of the remains of the hall on the other side of the blast and called out to him, while behind him he heard the steel door suddenly burst open. "Oh, hell!" Nate cursed, grabbing onto the edge of the nearest window frame to keep from sliding off the end of the floor. Floki's goons came tumbling through the opening in a disorderly mess, equally taken by surprise at the sudden pitch of the hall. One tumbled straight past Nate and fell to the ground below, while the others scrambled for a hold on the slick diamond plate floor. From his position, Nate picked off a couple of them as they slid, but one of the men managed to catch a window a little higher up, and pulled out his own gun to return fire. Guns blazed as Nate risked a wary glance over his shoulder, realizing that he needed to get out of there, and fast.

Finally Nate landed a lucky shot, and the thug tumbled head over heels out the end of the corridor. Nate quickly holstered his gun and turned his attention to an escape. Metallic squeals and pops came from above him, letting him know that his time was up. He quickly leaped from the end of the hall and grabbed a pipe, swinging from it to land on a platform nearby. As he landed he heard the sound of the whole section of building breaking off and collapsing into the river with a crash. Without even stopping to view the devastation, he ducked behind a rusty steel plated wall for cover as he reassessed his situation.

Scarcely had the noise died down and bullets began cutting through the air from two directions, ricocheting off the wall Nate was hiding behind. It only took him a moment to spot one group of thugs standing on the opposite edge of the collapsed corridor from Sully, Chloe, and Charlie, and another group firing from the windows on the other side of the river. His current position gave him just enough cover from both sets of goons, but only if he squeezed himself into the corner as tight as he could, and it was only a matter of time before the guys on the other side of the river found a more advantageous spot to fire on him. He could see Chloe and the others boldly returning fire from their end of the hall, helping keep the group of thugs in the hallway busy, but the other was staying well out of their sight. Nate frowned: he was pinned down pretty well here. The only route of escape seemed to be climbing up the outside of some of the machinery in full view of both sets of goons. Such a brazen act, though daring, was a pretty much sure-fire way to wind up in an early grave.

Then Nate's eyes fell on a ladder leaned up against the edge of the platform he was standing on, with just the top two rungs visible. "That might work," he said to himself. He looked across the river, flinching as several more bullets bounced off the other side of the wall behind him, then bolted from his hiding spot.

The maelstrom of bullets only increased as he came into the open, but Nate didn't stop. He grabbed the top rung of the ladder and pushed, planting his feet a few rungs down as it came away from the edge and he ran off the platform, hugging the ladder closely as it carried him out and over the river. The yell that came from Nate and echoed through the canyon started as one of triumph, like he was on an amusement park ride, but quickly morphed into a cry of panic and confusion as he spotted a pipe crossing through the ladder's trajectory which he had not noticed when he was scoping out his escape. He came to a violent stop against the pipe just after the ladder passed through vertical and he half hurled himself, half was flung from the top, spinning crazily through the air towards the other side of the river. He fell on the roof of a tin shed, crashing through the corroded sheet metal like it was cardboard, and landed in a heap on top of some broken crates before rolling off onto the floor.

His eyes slowly fluttered open, the weariness at the absolute beating he had taken over the last few days beginning to catch up with him. Above him, a hazy beam of light shining past the curled edges of torn roofing filtered down through the dust his explosive entrance had stirred up,casting a sepia glow on the scene inside. Nate sat up with a groan and pushed himself up out of the pile of splintered wood. He limped forward a couple tentative steps and cast a glance at his surroundings. Among the wreckage, it caught his eye that there was a piece of plywood that had been laid over the top of the crates but now was cocked at an angle and halfway falling off, a number of books and crinkled sheets of paper scattered in front. Someone had been using this little shed as an office.

The next thing he noticed was the little leather-bound book pinned under the corner of the makeshift desk, and his eyes widened. "No shit!" he breathed. He hurriedly lifted the plywood and scooped up the journal. Letting out a chuckle as he flipped through the pages to verify it really was Newton's, Nate said, "This must've been Floki's little study. Ha!" He pulled the elastic around it again and tucked the book in his back pocket. "This is the second time I've had to take this thing back from him!"

Nate pushed open the sagging door and stepped outside, only to immediately have a fist catch his jaw, bodily spinning him around to bounce of the side of the shed. "Aww," he moaned, rubbing his chin as he turned to face the threat. "Cheap shot! Gotta warn a guy."

The stars cleared from his vision, and though he kept a smile on his face, Nate felt dread settle into his belly. A few feet away and staring him down was a man with bulging biceps, shoulders to make professional football players cry, and a jaw like something carved in granite. The beast of a thug walked toward him with confident but casual strides, as if Nate was nothing more than a stray cat to evict from his yard. As he approached, a radio clipped to the thug's belt squawked.

"Baldur, Report! Have you subdued Drake?"

With a venomously carefree grin at Nate, the thug apparently known as Baldur stopped and answered the call, speaking slowly into his radio in a deep baritone, "I have him here. Give me three minutes- tops."

Nate chuckled nervously, raising his fists, but hesitating to be the one to instigate a fight with the behemoth before him. The man Baldur shoved his radio back on his belt and then swung at Nate with such force that Nate felt the displaced air from the punch as he ducked aside. Immediately, Nate dodged a second swing, the thug's fist glancing instead off of a piece of angle iron behind him.

"Heh, betcha that hurt, big guy!" he taunted as he regrouped, circling then man while looking for an opening.

Baldur grinned and cracked his knuckles. "Didn't even feel it."

Nate's smile withered, his voice like a deflating balloon as he squeaked, "Oh, crap."

Every shot sending a jolt down her arms, Chloe's .45 Defender spat bullets like fire at the thugs across the river. She gritted her teeth and kept her weapon firing as fast as it could until she exhausted yet another clip and was forced to duck back behind the corner to reload. Cutter, standing and firing from over her head, kept the barrage going along with Sully, who was lying on his stomach and firing from down low, making quite the effective onslaught against their foes. A limp arm dangled off the edge on the other side of the break in the hallway on their side, bearing witness to the three treasure hunter's work on that group. It was now down to just the guys across the way- at least for now. Chloe pulled the slide back on her gun then blew the bangs out of her face with a puff out of the corner of her mouth.

"How many more are there? Can you tell?" she asked as she turned back to the fight.

"I count thre- make that two," Cutter said, then drew back himself to reload.

Chloe picked up where she had left off in sending a deadly volley across the expanse before them, but spared a glance down at the last place she had seen Nate before he disappeared. Every once in a while she saw irregular flashes of movement that made her think he was probably caught in yet another brawl with some guy. "We've gotta get down there," she grunted between spurts of gunfire. "He might need help."

It took only another minute before they silenced the last of the thugs across the way, and as the shooting fell silent, Chloe turned on her heel and shoved her pistol in its holster, then began running toward the door nearby. "Come on," she called. "Let's go make sure he's alright."

Following behind her, Sully said to no one in particular, "I'm sure he's holding his own. I taught him how to take care of himself."

Chloe wrinkled her nose as she pushed open the squeaky door to step out onto the mountain. "Ugh. Please, spare me the details."

Sully looked confused. "Huh, whaddaya mean?"

Nate ducked as the crowbar swished overhead by mere inches, and he lashed out in a wild sweeping motion, the bone in his forearm striking Baldur's wrist at the same time the bar clanged against some angle iron. The combined forces of the two impacts wrenched the crowbar from the lieutenant's hands, and it went spinning wildly through the air and scraped painfully down Nate's back. Still better than Mr. Brick House hitting me in the face with it, he thought.

Nate followed quickly with a punch to Baldur's thick gut, then tried out a kick, only to have his foot stopped mid-swing by the Icelander catching it in both of his hands. Before Nate even had a chance to look startled, Baldur, with a flick of his wrists and a jerk of his arms, flung him against the side of a hopper to fall ignominiously to the ground. As Nate struggled to pick himself up off the gritty concrete, Baldur slammed his closed fist against a red button on the wall with unnecessary violence, and a nearby conveyor sprang to life with a mechanical clatter.

"Time to take out the garbage," the lieutenant growled as he stalked toward his fallen adversary. Nate groaned and felt himself getting hauled up by the front of his Henley. He urged his body to fight back, but was suddenly slammed down on the conveyor and felt the prongs on the feed chain catch his holsters, carrying him at an alarming rate toward the rock crusher at the top. Baldur climbed on below him, his feet propped against the next set of prongs, presumably to make sure Nate didn't escape at the last minute.

"At least some one's learning," Nate muttered to himself. Grabbing the sides of the conveyor, he yanked himself upward, freeing the strap of his holsters, but immediately catching the hem of his shirt in the chain instead. "Ah, shit!" He cast a nervous glance toward the opening of the rock crusher, which was alarmingly close. Regularly spaced tremors shook the conveyor, and Nate looked back to see Baldur walking up the side rails toward him with a grim look on his face, clearly eager to shove him in if he got loose. Nate tugged more frantically on his Henley, finally ripping that part of the hem off just before the lieutenant reached him. Wheeling to his feet, Nate threw a wild punch that connected with the thug's jaw, then grabbed him by the collar and threw him just as he reached the brink of the hopper. Baldur bounced off the outside of the hopper and grabbed the edge as Nate desperately threw himself across its opening to grab the other side at the last second.

Hauling himself up to perch precariously on the lip at the top edge, Nate windmilled his arms for balance while looking around for someplace to go. He noticed an I-beam just a few feet above him just as Baldur lifted his bulk over the side of the hopper, and Nate leaped and pulled himself up to it.

In the momentary safety of his elevated position, Nate took the opportunity to glance over at the hallway where Sully and the others had been, and was relieved to see them gone. Good, he thought grimly. As long as they make it out alive, that's really all that matters. Next thing he noticed was group of revolutionaries swarming onto the roof of the other end of the U-shaped corridor, all shouting and pointing at him, while beyond them what looked like an acetylene torch was being swung by a crane. A noise reminded him that he was not alone, and Nate turned to see Baldur standing on the I-beam a couple yards away.

"You know, you're some kind of persistent," Nate said, turning to look at the thug while keeping an eye on the more distant snipers setting up in his peripheral. "Or maybe just a special kind of stupid."

Baldur glowered at him. "I'm just finishing the job."

Out of the corner of his eye he could see the thugs on the roof lining up their shots. Now or never. As the burly lieutenant charged at him, Nate whipped his pistol out of its holster and shot at the gas bottles on the end of the crane's lifting cable. The acetylene exploded with devastating effect, taking out the entire group on the roof in one fell swoop as well as causing Baldur to falter and his punch to fall short of its mark. Nate took a careful step backward and raised his gun to shoot but the Icelander batted the weapon out of his hand and sent it clattering into the feed wheels of the rock crusher below. On the heels of that blow came another that connected solidly with Nate's cheekbone and sent Nate reeling, both with pain and with trying to maintain his balance on the precarious beam they had found to fight on. The follow through of his punch set Baldur also slightly off balance, and as the brute swayed tentatively Nate reached up and gingerly touched his cheek, grimacing at the pain.

"Well," Nate wheezed, his voice cracking with exertion and sounding embarrassingly high, "how 'bout we call this one a tie, huh? If you're happy, I'm happy."

Baldur snickered at Nate's struggling bravado, and launched at him with zeal, driving his fist toward Nate's gut. Nate caught the punch with both hands, trapping Baldur's arms alongside his body, and kneed him in the chin, sending the Icelandic lieutenant staggering backward. It caught the brute by surprise, and panic briefly crossed his face as he reeled dangerously close to falling, but ultimately caught his balance.

"Let's finish this, Drake!" the man snarled, regaining his composure.

"Let's not and say we did," Nate suggested flippantly. His last hit was lucky, but he knew that Baldur's greater weight would soon tip the scales of this fight, so instead Nate plotted out an escape plan. As the thug rushed him again, Nate leaped off the I-beam and grabbed a pipe nearby, leaving Baldur punching at empty air. The force the lieutenant had put behind his swing was impressive, and his momentum carried him off the edge of the beam, screaming with terror. A moment later came the thump of him hitting the inside of the hopper, and then his scream fell silent as a sickening noise came from the rock crusher. Nate squeezed his eyes shut and thanked his lucky stars he was facing the wrong way to see the carnage.

With no enemies in sight, Nate's mind began to switch gears as he made his way toward the building across the pipes and machinery. What now? With his friends free, he could technically walk away, leave this fool's errand, and never look back. It would probably be the smart thing to do. But...

No. He couldn't. Floki and Garnier were still going to keep looking, and if they found whatever power was in Atlantis... Well, it wouldn't be good. Nate swung from the pipe and leaped over to grab another that was running vertically up the side of the building. Once more, he had found himself in the place of being the only thing standing between a couple of egomaniacs and a global threat. Perfect.

"How...do I ever...get myself INTO these...situations?" he muttered through gritted teeth. But he knew. He knew all too well how he got himself there.

All he was trying to do was help- to keep people safe. Trying to be a hero. Why did it feel like the universe was punishing him for it?

God, Elena was right.

Do I really want to be Atlas, holding up the sky, all alone?

Keep moving, Nate. Climb: right hand, left foot, left hand, right foot...

He could feel the front he had been maintaining in order to rescue his friends crumbling around him like a bunch loose rocks stacked against a hurricane; the wedding band still on his finger bit into his finger as he climbed, like a continual reminder of his empty deception toward even his closest friends.

Right hand, left foot.

The crushing weight of the the woman he loved leaving him came suddenly crashing down on his shoulders, almost unbearably. If he had known what this would cost him, would he have still said yes to Sully that day in Athens?

Left hand, right foot.

He would have. Sooner or later, he would have, and there's no use pretending he wouldn't. He never would have let Sully- or Chloe and Charlie for that matter- get into something like this on their own. He reached the top of the pipe and, pulling himself up over the edge of the rusty tin roof, Nate paused to catch his breath. Hunched over, his hands on his knees, he breathed heavily as he recovered from all the craziness he had just gone through, then stood and scanned the perimeter of the ruined mining compound, with the smoke still rising on one side from the gas bottles exploding, and the destroyed hallway in a heap on the other. "Alright, which way did they go?" he asked himself, hoping for some sign of Sully and the others. Below him, the roar of the river was a constant drone in the background.

Despite not seeing any obvious signs of more of Floki's thugs around, Nate couldn't shake the feeling that he was being watched, and it bothered him. Multiple times he looked back and forth to see if someone was sneaking up on him, and always saw no one. Must just be my nerves, he thought.

He held his hand up to shield his eyes from the low hanging sun, squinting at something he thought he saw in the distance. As he tried to discern if it was Sully and the gang, a realization suddenly came to his mind.

The crane! Someone was in the crane! He whirled around to look just in time to see the crane's metal hook swinging toward him, about to hit him. "Oh crap-"

The heavy steel collided hard with him, knocking the wind out of him and making his head swim with pain. He felt himself falling, falling, then splashing into the cold mountain stream back-first, the impact with the surface tension adding to the growing list of hurts. The cold mountain water was bracing, swirling around him in dark currents and eddies. In fact, everything seemed dark. Nate stretched out his arms arms and legs in a sloppy attempt to swim, but each limb felt like it was made of lead that was dragging him down, down, away from the light. In the punch-drunken fog of his mind, he wasn't even sure he knew which way was up anymore, but he knew he had to move fast. He had seen where this river led to when he was coming over from the gondola station, so he knew it only got worse from here.

The current rolled him along the bank as he was swept around a bend in the river, tumbling over and over until finally being swept back into the middle. His movements became more frantic, but seemingly less effective the further he went, and he wasn't sure how much to attribute to the increasing strength of the current as it approached the falls and how much might be that he was probably about to go unconscious, but either way, he didn't like it. The garbled sound of his own grunts mixed with the rush of water, until both were drowned out by something louder. More vicious.

Shit. There it is. It's all over now. He knew now that he was fighting a losing battle, but he fought anyway, motivated by the desire for this not to be the end. This couldn't be it, he had to live another day, at least long enough to tell Elena he was sorry, that she was right. That he never meant to hurt her. It can't end like this, it can't-

The roar crescendoed, and with the last little bit of strength he could muster Nate flung himself as far away from the edge as possible as he went over the precipice of the waterfall.

"Shit. That was a really long detour. He'd better still be okay."

Chloe looked nervously around as she sprinted down the trail. She could hear some kind of white noise growing steadily louder, and surmised there must be a waterfall somewhere nearby.

"I'm tellin' you, I'm sure he'll be fine," Sully said reassuringly, though with every reiteration it was getting harder to tell who exactly he was trying to encourage.

"They must have had some kind of cars or carts for traveling this distance," Cutter said as he hopped down off a boulder in the path. "Otherwise this is bloody ridiculous how long it would take to walk all the time. If we're lucky, maybe we can find one to use when we get out of here."

The path took them near the edge of the cliffs and then rounded a corner, and suddenly the trio was faced with the waterfall that they had been hearing, where the broiling waters of the mountain river dumped into the valley below. Just as Chloe was about to turn heel and run back toward the compound along its banks, a flash of color stopped her.

Exploding from the turbulent rapids at the top of the falls came none other than Nathan Drake, screaming and flailing his arms in a glorious cloud of spray coming off the cascading water. All three watched wide-eyed and mouths agape as he plummeted until disappearing into the heavy mist at the base of the falls.

"Oh my god."

"Holy shit-"

"Piss. Bollocks."

The trio of treasure hunters stared silently after him, watching in hopes of seeing him climb out onto the banks further down. But the light was fading quickly, and visibility was poor, so after several minutes of waiting Chloe reluctantly decided it was time to move on.

Hesitantly, almost reverently, Chloe uttered, "Nate... I never expected him to go off the deep end like that..."

Another brief silence followed, than Sully gruffly interjected, "We've gotta go after him. Let's go!"

"Yeeeaahh, 'e's survived worse," Cutter said with strained optimism.

Chloe kept staring for a moment, her eyes distant and glassy. She wondered how Elena would take it if this was it. She wondered how she would even break the news to her.

Shaking her head, Chloe replied, "You're right. Let's go."

Floki stared into the ruined shed where his office had been, his expression as dark as the sky behind him. The silence allowed him to hear the quiet footsteps as they approached, but his rage-filled eyes remained fixed on the broken stopgap desk and its contents- including the empty space where one particular item should have been.

"Floki!" his subordinate said smartly, giving a salute.

Wearily, the redheaded commander asked, "What is it?"

The man shifted uncomfortably, clearly uncertain how to say what he had to say. Floki was pretty sure he already knew what was coming, but waited for the man anyway. "Baldur... is dead."

"I know."

The silence that fell between them was awkward for the soldier, but Floki was too caught up in his own thoughts to notice. Finally, he sighed, "How many men do we have left?"

Another uncomfortable squirm, and the man cleared his throat. "Not sure, but... not many." Floki heaved another dejected sigh, and the soldier hurried to continue, "But, Drake is dead! He went over the waterfall, sooo... we win! All we have to do is-"

"No!" Floki roared, turning on him. "We lose!" He jabbed his finger at the man's chest, then gestured at the splintered pile of wood behind him. "He had the astrolabe and now the journal, and without those, we're finished!" He accentuated the statement with a hatchet-like slash of his hand through the air. "So get however many men we have left, and walk that river until you find his dead body and recover the artifacts- if he's dead at all," he finished pointedly.

With a rushed "Yes sir!" the man scurried off to rally their limited troops to mount a search. Floki watched him go, the flames from the earlier explosion still dancing faintly above him and casting an eerie orange glow over the scene. As he scratched his bearded chin, Floki's lip twitched as he continued to muse. "For all Garnier's insistence that Drake is some kind of god, he sure is one hell of a man," the Icelander grumbled under his breath before turning and stalking away.

Chapter Text

Nate was falling. He was falling, and water was everywhere. It rolled down along with him in booming torrents, it hung heavy in the air he breathed, and then, suddenly, he was enveloped in it again, and the din of the waterfall was dampened as he submerged.

The effect of the waterfall, however, was not. The crushing weight of thousands of gallons of water falling on him, around him, pushing him down. Down into the murky, obscure depths of the pool, where the dim light of dusk failed to penetrate, pinning him to the bottom. Calling on reserves of strength he wasn't even sure he had, Nate willed his arms to move, his legs to kick, and he slowly clawed his way to the surface.

A gasp for air, and Nate sputtered and choked on the mist that hung heavy at the foot of the cascade, where water thundered against the rocks and was pulverized, forming billions of atomized particles that hovered just above the surface. Frantically, he fought to neither drown in the foam, nor slip into the unconsciousness that tugged at him and tried to drag him down like his soaking wet clothes were. With thrashing movements, he battled his way free of the mist and froth and took in hoarse gasps of air that burned his throat. His arm struck something floating on the water, and he seized it, throwing both arms over the object to hold him up, and as he drifted down the river, he finally succumbed to the darkness that was intruding on his vision.

A gibbous moon rose high as night fell in the mountains. Its milky light pursued the lone figure floating down the river, the soft glow occasionally falling on his face and illuminating his features. His expression was troubled, even as he lay unconscious and draped over a log, as if even his subconscious wouldn't allow him to escape the demons that plagued his mind. The battered adventurer was swept slowly but steadily downstream, curving gently around bends and obstacles as the roar of the waterfall grew faint and then disappeared entirely, replaced by the brooding sounds of darkness. As the goddess of night cast her shadowy cloak over the landscape, both time and distance became indistinguishable, obscured by the murky twilight. Miles passed without landmark. Hours passed without herald. Heroes were written in the stars, and then erased as they passed beneath the horizon. Among them, Orion soared high overhead before being slain by the scorpion. The celestial ship Argo set sail while predators of the night sang a siren song. Still the waters carried Nate on through gauntlets of branches and rustling grasses that stretched out their fingers, long and jagged, silhouetted evilly along the banks and dipping down to grasp at him. These shadowy specters like gorgon's tendrils reached out to take hold of him while river nymphs came borne on puffs of wind that sped him along beyond their clutches. 

Finally the moon set, and darkness descended on the land in ominous gloom as the last vestiges of silky, silvery light were lost; the night, however, was now far spent. As dawn loomed ever nearer, the waterlogged treasure hunter was swept near to a cove. For a moment, his unconscious form faltered at the mouth of it, caught in the swirling eddies, before being gingerly drawn into its safety. The wind came in a breathy sigh, pushing him gently forward to be cradled on the shore of the river. He lay prone on its banks, eyes shut tightly, and for the briefest of moments he scowled and stirred. As if in response, the water swelled around him, then withdrew again, leaving him safely on the land while his features settled back to their silent distress.

Finally the last of the stars faded into the growing light. Helios charged triumphantly through the gates that Eos flung open, beginning his quest to escort the sun on its daily path, starting in the east and arching toward the west, to end where the earth itself ended- in a place where a solitary titan stood, bearing the weight of the sky on his shoulders.

The fantastical and disturbing visions of night slowly faded from Nate's mind, abandoning him to the almost stranger reality of where he now was. His lips parted to utter a groan of pain. The pungent smell of decay and death filled his nostrils as Nate opened his eyes, squinting from the light of morning, but also from the sticky river mud that squished up around his face, uncomfortably close to entering his eye sockets.

The mud was where the terrible odor was coming from. Pushing himself up, Nate groaned again and hunched over as his vision went black for a moment, then gradually came back in swirling colors that made him feel dizzy. Squeezing his eyes tight until the sensation passed, Nate was finally able to turn and wash his face in the river.

The cold mountain stream helped bring his mind into focus and temporarily deaden the headache that throbbed in the back of his skull. Scrubbing a hand over his face as the last of the chilly water drained from him, he felt the raised skin from a cut on his cheek, and the scratchiness of the stubble growing out on his chin. Peering down into the water as the ripples fanned out from him, he almost scoffed at the reflection he saw. His face was now more or less clean, but his clothes were a mess: the front of his grey Henley smeared with mud and torn along the hem on one side, his pants filthy from the bombastic events of the last several days, he cut quite the image of a ragged traveler. He stood, wincing at the pain in his knees and the stiffness in his back, and began hobbling upstream, hoping that he hadn't gone very far from the mining compound.

Hours later, it was clear that he was not so fortunate. As the sun climbed higher and the heat became sweltering, the river snaked ahead for miles, sometimes diving between sheer mountain peaks, and sometimes meandering through grasslands or forests. All the while, Nate plodded along the banks, sticking close to the river for ease of travel but still struggling for every yard gained toward his destination. His gait became heavier by the hour- and sometimes almost by the minute.

I survived a trip over a waterfall.

He shielded his eyes from the sun that glared angrily down at him, obscuring the lines of the jagged pinnacles of rock by its sheer intensity. Running his tongue over dry lips, Nate shuffled on.

Why?

Why did I survive that?

Picking his way over a boulder felt like a Herculean task. He half jumped, half rolled off the other side, and landed on his backside on the grass. He allowed his head to flop back against the rough stone and rested for a minute in its shade.

My mission is over. I saved my friends.

Wouldn't it have been better to just die?

Mountains towered above him: vast, ominous, and dark.

Elena left me- or did I leave her?

Entering a rocky field, Nate stumbled over a small boulder lodged in the ground. As he picked himself up, he noticed the scowling face of a Barbary leopard watching him, a wraith prowling through the forest of evergreen oaks. He instinctively reached for his handgun, but found an empty holster. Perfect.

Alone.

Defenseless.

Good as dead.

Tire tracks in the valley gave him pause. Someone was out there besides him- and recently. He pulled out his pocketknife- a meager token of resistance. As he walked on, he scanned his peripheral for danger lurking nearby.

Elena's gone.

What do I have left?

His brain was saddled with fog of a type he normally only felt when he spent too much time at the bar, making his vigilance feel lackluster at best, and knowing that made him even more nervous and on edge. As he staggered out of the field and back into the relative cool between two peaks, he realized that he was probably overheated. Croaking out his need for water in a voice that felt like sandpaper, he fell to his knees by the river and cupped handfuls of the cool liquid to his mouth. After slaking his thirst, he rose to continue on his way. 

Is it all worth it?

Should I give up now?

Something stirred in the woods nearby, and Nate paused, carefully scanning the tree line. Against his better judgement, he approached the the location the sound came from, looking for signs of his mysterious stalker.

Broken branches, high up off the ground but close together. Something tall and thin. Nate touched the broken tip of the twig. A person. A person was watching him from the woods. He clenched his jaw and his fist briefly tightened around the branch before letting go and moving on.

Keep moving.

Gotta keep moving.

Another pop of breaking limbs, this time from behind him. He whirled around, eyes wildly searching the forest. A bird screeched and flew away.

Where?

More sounds on the other side of him. They were playing with him, or maybe there was more than one of them. Nate turned first one way, then the other in a desperate bid for survival, the mouse trying to spot the cat that was slyly sneaking up on it. Arms raised slightly in preparation to fight, he walked slowly backwards while uttering curses under his breath until he stumbled over a log on the ground.

Suddenly, everything fell silent. No more breaking branches or rustling leaves, and the deathly still that ensued was somehow more eerie than all of it. A chill crept up Nate's spine, and the shadows seemed to close in around him despite the sun being now over the tree line. 

Then came the all too familiar sound of the slide being drawn on a handgun, and the feeling of the muzzle pressing into his back between his shoulder blades. His eyes widened, and a familiar female voice spoke the simple greeting- "Hello Nathan."

Chapter Text

"Whoa now! Steady as she goes!" Chloe pressed the brake and the stolen jeep skidded to a stop near a fork in the river. Putting the engine in neutral, she leaned back in the driver's seat and draped her hands loosely over the top of the wheel. "Which way do you think he went?"

The river split at the corner of a mountain, one side winding its way through a shady canyon and the other meandering through an grassy valley. Cutter had his arm resting on the top of his door and was drumming on the rusty exterior of the jeep as he studied both options. After a few moments he lifted a finger and pointed toward the valley. "I say-"

"Ah-ah," Sully interrupted, leaning over both of their shoulders from the back seat. Plopping a cigar into his mouth, he rumbled, "Last time you got to pick, you got the wrong one. It's my turn, and I say we go that way." He pointed down the canyon, then leaned back, lit his cigar, and took a long draw on it.

"He's not wrong," Chloe said, grinning impishly at Cutter before dropping the shifter in gear and giving the jeep some gas.

"That was a fifty-fifty shot," Cutter complained. "And it worked out in the end."

It was a slow crawl over rocks and through gulleys, and occasionally they had to get out and drag logs or push boulders out of their way, but they made steady progress through the canyon. As they went along, Cutter kept a curious eye on the increasingly striking rock formations around them, but said nothing.

About thirty minutes later, they rounded a bend in the canyon. Chloe pushed the accelerator a little harder to ease the jeep up out of a ditch, and then glanced skyward. Her eyes went round as saucers and she slammed the brake again, catching both of her passengers by surprise. "Hey!" Sully cried as he fell forward against the back of the front seat, losing the butt of his cigar in the process. The smoldering stub landed on the cracked vinyl of the front seat and quickly melted through. "Those things are expensive," he complained, rubbing the back of his neck as he leaned back in his seat.

"Well, don't worry- it's about to be put to good use as a seat warmer," Charlie said as he peeled himself off the dashboard and eyed the wisp of smoke trailing up from the hole.

Sully grunted in response and folded his arms. "Yeah, well If it gets too hot up there let me know. There's an extinguisher in the back and I'll be glad to empty it in your general direction."

Looking at Chloe, Charlie asked, "Seriously though, love, what gives?"

She pointed wordlessly, and Cutter and Sully followed her finger toward the tops of the cliffs ahead, a hush falling over them as well. "And I thought I had seen it all," Cutter mumbled.

"Now I know I have," Sully added.

Finally, Chloe shook her head and moved her hand back to the gear shift. "Well, I'd say if Nate came this direction there's almost no possibility he didn't end up in there somehow. Agreed?" Without waiting for an answer, she put the jeep in gear and began driving toward the object in question.

"Molly?" Nate laughed in disbelief. Turning around, he shook his head and put his hands on his hips. "God, you really had me going there for a minute!"

A grin spread across the Englishwoman's freckled face, and she spun her pistol on the tip of her finger before holstering it. Crossing her arms, she leaned her weight on one hip. "Well, god knows you probably deserve it."

Nate scoffed, his smile diminishing a bit. "You have no idea," he said.

Still smiling heartily, the redhead looked him over. "What about it then? You look like hell spit you back out."

"Mm." Nate considered a moment. "I think as long as I keep coming out that end of hell, I just might survive it."

Molly laughed in earnest at that, and flicked her loosely tied, fiery red ponytail over her shoulder. "Really, though. What in the blazes are you on to?"

Frowning at the sun as it rose ever higher, Nate pondered before replying. "I'll tell you that if you tell me how the hell you even got here."

"Oh, please," she said with a smirk. "You're not under the impression you're hard to find are you? I mean, you spent less than forty-eight hours in Xi'an but still managed to blow up Shihuangdi's tomb. That's the type of thing you tend to hear about when you're in the archaeological field in China, so if you were going for being under the radar you're doing a fantastic job."

Nate rolled his eyes at the understating sarcasm that he now remembered was kind of her MO. "Yeah, that's not ever gonna be one of the smarter things I've done." He shrugged. "What can I say? We were kind of under pressure."

"Right," Molly drawled. "So anyway, from there I just did some digging, followed the explosions, and here we are. Some things never change, after all. Knowing you, I was pretty sure that you were on to something big- hopefully big enough to justify the desecration of an important cultural site like the tomb of the First Emperor."

Nate hedged. "I mean, technically it wasn't the tomb. It was a side chamber that served as a hideout for some rogue alchemists. But yeah, it's big." He inhaled deeply and then let it out in a sigh. "I need a gun," he said suddenly.

"Why am I not surprised?" Molly jerked her head in the direction of the tree line. "Lucky for you, I plan ahead."

"I... have been known to plan ahead," Nate said as he walked behind her. "I lost mine in a- in a rock crusher," he said, not really sure himself if that was an explanation or justification.

The woman in front of him paused mid-stride and glanced back. "That... I might be surprised about." She cocked her head to the side but kept walking. "This must be a fascinating adventure you're on."

Scoffing again, Nate agreed. "Trust me when I say that losing my gun in a giant meat grinder is one of the least incredible parts of this trip. By a lot." As he followed her through the trees, accompanied by the rustle of leaves and the snap of branches, Nate studied Molly. It wasn't the way he might have studied her several years back when they first met- not only was he a (technically?) married man now, but his present circumstances had any thoughts of that sort pretty far from his mind. Now as he saw her beige button-down shirt with sleeves cuffed to her elbows over top of some snugly-fitting olive drab chinos, he thought of how little she'd changed, and that's when it hit him. All these people- Sully, Chloe, Charlie, Molly- they all were like pillars in his life. No matter what kind of crazy shit he ended up in, no matter how many times he flaked out on them, they were always there for him. And, for better or worse, they never changed. They were a constant in his life, something comforting, that he felt safe to depend on. At this point, he wondered if anyone could depend on him to be anything but undependable.

They reached a jeep a little ways back in a less densely wooded part, and Molly walked around to the back and pulled a Para 9 from an ammunition box. "Here you are," she said blithely, extending the butt of the weapon to him. "It's new, so try not to scratch it."

Nate raised an eyebrow as he took the gun and used it to fill his empty holster. "Was your humor always this dry?"

"English," she said with a smirk as she hopped into the driver's seat. " But also, I may have learned a thing or two from someone I worked with a few years ago."

Nate smiled ironically as he climbed into the passenger's side of the jeep.

"Where to?" she asked as she depressed the clutch and dropped the shifter into first.

"Upstream," Nate pointed. "I'll fill you in on the way."

"...and then I landed in the river and got washed over the falls, fell unconscious, and washed ashore. And that pretty well brings us to now," Nate concluded his recounting of the events of the last two weeks or so, carefully edited to leave out his personal drama. A twinge of guilt over entirely omitting Elena from the narrative kept gnawing away at him, but he told himself that it was for the better. Molly didn't need to get all wrapped up in that right now.

"Hmm. That must have been some kind of emergency to take you away from going to Alexandria with everyone else," Molly observed as she carefully guided the jeep along the banks of the mountain river.

And there it was. Of course she had to be nosy, Nate thought to himself. "Yeah. Some debts I had to settle." He hoped his lame excuse sounded better to her than it did to him. In his peripheral vision he could see her curiously side-eyeing him, but he pointedly avoided meeting her gaze in favor of watching the scenery. Just when it seemed like she might open her mouth to pry further into his story, Nate spotted something across the river.

"Hey, hold up!" he shouted. She rammed the brake, and the jeep shredded turf as it skidded to a stop near a fork in the stream. The redheaded Englishwoman looked expectantly at him as he pointed, directing her eyes to the soil on the other side which had recently been disturbed. "Tire tracks," he said. Frowning, he continued, "Which means either Chloe and the others came this way, or Floki and Garnier." He looked at her meaningfully.

For a moment her face was grim, then she shoved the jeep in gear and proclaimed optimistically, "Only one way to find out!"

For a while the conversation died, much to Nate's relief, and the only communication was that which was related to traversing the canyon the trail led to. Besides the ruts left by the tires in the soft ground, they also spotted drag marks where branches or boulders had been moved aside to make a path for whoever had gone before them. Nate kept one hand on the Para 9 Molly had given him just in case it turned out not to be friends at the end of those tracks.

The jeep juddered violently as it bounced over a ledge, and Nate pressed his hands against the dashboard to brace himself. Molly glanced over, then asked, "Married man now? See, I told you you'd find someone good. Who's the lucky lady?"

He tried to hide his scowl as his eyes drifted down to the ring on his finger, the one he had left on expressly for the purpose of sparing him any awkward conversations with Sully and the gang. Just can't win for losing, he thought.

"Yeah," he tried on a laugh that he hoped sounded happy. "Her name's Elena Fisher." Glancing at his companion, he said, "You may have heard of her- former t.v. personality for Uncharted History, now investigative journalist?"

"Heard of her. She seems like a spunky woman. She didn't want to tag along?"

Nate was suddenly keenly interested in a rock formation approaching off his side of the vehicle. "Yeah, she decided to sit this one out."

Molly hummed in response, but kept her eyes straight ahead and her expression neutral. Nate scratched uncomfortably at the stubble growing in on his chin and made a face that Molly couldn't see. She wasn't dumb- most likely she could see straight through his bullshit, but he chose not to think about it. Draping his arm over his seat back, he continued to stare at the rocks they were passing. When he first started looking at them, it was mostly just to be not looking at Molly, but eventually the unusual formations of stone caught his attention in earnest. After watching for several minutes in silence, he pointed it out to Molly.

"Hey, d'ja get a load of the mountains here? All the rock strata are running pretty much vertically." He traced his finger through the air to demonstrate. "These all got squashed up out of the ground- like a deck of cards being folded." He furrowed his brows and followed a particularly striking outcropping with his eyes. "Must've been some major seismic activity here at some point."

Molly half smiled and raised one eyebrow. "Coincidence?"

Nate snorted. "Fat chance, right?"

They rounded a long, sweeping bend in the canyon and came out onto an open plain that stretched out for a few thousand feet ahead before diving back into a gorge on the other side. Sunlight washed over them as they emerged from the shadows and Molly and Nate both looked up at the same time, their mouths falling open as if in coordination with each other. Molly's foot came involuntarily off the pedal, but in her shock she couldn't even think to pull it out of gear and the jeep eventually stalled and jerked to a standstill. Neither of them noticed or cared, though, but instead they continued to stare in awe, for up high, near the top of the cliffs at the entrance to the next section of canyons, a huge, weathered, wooden ship was lodged, its dark hull  spanning the gorge like a bridge while its rigging hung down from rotting masts in a gloomy tangle like spider's webs.

"Holy..." Nate leaped up in his seat and stood with his hands on the top of the jeep's windscreen, a look of wonder on his face. Even before he spotted the scowling face of a guardian lion on the bow of the ship, just partially visible above where it was smashed up against the mountain, he knew what he was looking at, but that last clue confirmed his suspicion, and he began to laugh softly.

His laughter broke the trance that had fallen over the pair, and Molly looked quizzically at him. "What's so funny?"

Nate did something of a double take at her, as he was still struggling to pry his eyes away from the incredible sight before them. "It's just," he paused as he struggled for words. "I guess I've spent so much time running around bustling cities and grimy old mines, shooting and being shot at, it's like... it's like I forgot what we were even looking for or something. But this-" he waved a hand toward the ship, "this is amazing! I mean, you know what that is, right? It's one of Xu Fu's ships that he took to find Peng Lai!" His excitement bubbled over as he continued, "This means we're close! Atlantis has gotta be somewhere right around here!" 

Molly's eyes dropped, and she nodded toward an object across the valley from them. "So must our friends we've been following. At least, let's hope they're friends."

Nate looked where she had indicated and frowned when he saw the empty jeep parked near the entrance to the opposite canyon. "Yeah, let's be careful. We'd better get up there."

"How would this thing even end up here?" Molly asked as she climbed the narrow path up the mountain behind Nate. The question was apparently rhetorical though, as she answered herself without waiting for Nate's opinion. "It must be whatever earthquake formed these mountains also caused a massive flood, and these poor blokes got caught in it. Bloody hell, that would've had to be some serious waves..."

As he climbed over a boulder and dropped down on the other side, Nate eyed the ship which now loomed very close in front of them. "Yeah. Almost like an act of the gods, huh?"

From their current position he could see that when the stern of the vessel struck the mountain it smashed a sizable hole near the keel, the exposed portion of which was now just off to their left and down a small slope. He considered using the breach in the hull to explore it, but decided against it in favor of climbing up a slab in front of them and accessing it via the deck. He led the way up the smooth rock face and paused at the top while Molly came up behind him.

Before them, the wrecked barque stretched over the void, its planking grey and rough with age and weather, reaching out till it splintered against the unforgiving cliff on the other side. The deck was broad and littered with the few remnants that hadn't blown away or rotted with the ages: the stump of a mast, some tattered cloth that may have once been a blood red flag or sail but now was a washed out and barely discernible pink color, a spar that was broken at an angle like a discarded toothpick and leaning on the rail, the shattered remains of a cabin, and some moldy piles of rope. Nate gave a wry glance at Molly.

"I'm sure it's still structurally sound enough to walk on, right?"

A breeze whistled through the canyon and the ancient timbers creaked and groaned.

Molly gave a farcical nod of agreement. "Positive. In fact, I'm so sure, I'll let you go first."

"Attagirl." Nate grabbed the edge of the rock and slowly lowered himself down until he felt his toes touch the deck. Slowly, tentatively, he transferred his weight onto the ship, praying that it wouldn't give out. Finally, he pulled his hands away from the cliff. "See? Solid as a rock. Eh, no pun intended."

"Good, cause I don't think I get it if you did intend one." Molly said as she eased herself down behind him.

Glancing over his shoulder at her, Nate gestured vaguely around them. "It's a mountain- ah, forget it."

Their footsteps sounded hollow on the petrified boards as they moved carefully out over the gorge. As he scanned the vessel beneath his feet, Nate became increasingly interested in the many small holes that had been punched in the deck, ranging from about one foot to two or even three feet in diameter. When he took note of it to Molly, she pointed at a rock laying on the deck near the rail.

"Looks like it got caught in some kind of a rock slide?" she said uncertainly.

Nate studied the spherical object curiously. "Is that-?" He began walking toward it to take a closer look.

Molly looked uneasy. "Nate, be careful. Nate!"

Suddenly the brittle planking cracked beneath him and Nate fell into the depths of the ship. A cascade of splinters and fragmented boards raining down around him, he hit a lower deck about ten feet down, landing heavily and rolling over on his back. Dazed from the fall, he groaned, sat up slowly, and squinted up at the hole he had just made. Sunlight streamed through until Molly's face obscured it as she peered down at him.

"Are you OK?"

"Never been better," he lied. With another groan, he started to push himself up until a noise behind him made his instincts kick in, and he launched into a backward roll and came up wielding his pistol.

Sully took a step back, holding his hands in the air. "Whoa, now. Put that thing away."

Standing behind him, Cutter added, "Yeah, might put somebody's eye out."

"Sully? Charlie?"Nate's eyes went wide and he lowered his gun. "Oh, thank god. I was hoping that was your jeep."

Chloe stepped up beside Sully and folded her arms. "Don't forget me, now," she drawled, then scanned him up and down. "Good to see you still in one piece. You look like absolute shit though."

Shoving his gun back in his shoulder holsters, Nate snarked, "You like? I had to go over a waterfall to really nail the effect, but I think it was worth it in the end."

"His jaw still works," Charlie announced. "I'd say he's alright."

"Ah-ha, funny."

"So," Chloe said in an upbeat tone, "now that we're not being shot at at the moment, how'd the visit with the wife go?"

Nate's gaze flicked over to her, his expression going cold as ice, but he was saved from answering her by Molly suddenly dropping down through the hole he had fallen through. Cutter instinctively drew his gun, but Nate waved him down. "Relax, tiger. She's a friend."

Chloe put her hands on her hips and looked confused, her gaze going back and forth between Nate and the new arrival. "I'm sorry... am I missing something? Elena? Did you dye your-"

"This is Molly," Nate interrupted, "Molly Greene. Molly, this is Charlie Cutter and Chloe Frazer."

"Charmed," the redhead said as she shook Chloe's hand. Then to Sully, "Victor Sullivan... It's been a while." She smiled. "It's a pleasure to work with you two dashing scoundrels again."

"The pleasure's all mine," Sully said, shaking her hand in turn. "Didn't expect to have any more help show up on this carnival ride."

"You wouldn't be so lucky," Molly quipped, and then went on to explain to them how she caught up.

Nate wandered away from the conversation to examine the inside of the stranded vessel. The air was musty and stale, and in the dim light filtering in through the gaps in the exterior planking, he could make out more round or teardrop-shaped rocks scattered across this lower deck. He picked one up and turned it over in his hands, feeling its weight and the exceptionally rough surface. Charlie appeared at his side, and Nate waved the spherical object at him."You see these?"

Cutter nodded. "Yeah, I did. They're all over. It's igneous rock."

"I know," Nate said in a low voice. "Lava bombs. There must've been some kind of an eruption long ago, probably caused by the earthquake that shaped this part of the Atlas range."

"You noticed that too," Charlie said, impressed. "That's what I figured. Probably made the tidal wave that landed this mess up here, too. An earthquake of that kind of proportion-" he paused and looked at Nate meaningfully. "I'd say we have our Atlantis story."

Nate nodded. "I was pretty sure even before we stumbled on this thing, but especially now. It must be the catastrophe that sunk Atlantis, which means we're very- very- close."

"Only problem is the timing," Cutter added. "If this is Xu Fu's ship, then these guys would have come along after the sinking of Atlantis."

Nate considered that. "Maybe the eruption happened later? Or there were multiple earthquakes over the years." He and Cutter both shrugged.

"Hey, Nate!" Chloe called. "You see these stiffs over here?" She pointed out a couple of skeletons nearer to the stern of the ship, playing her flashlight beam over the bones.

Nate walked over to see them. "Xu Fu's crew," he said, regarding them soberly. "Were they trying to get in- or trying to get out?"

Chloe side-eyed him, then moved the beam of light up onto the hull of the ship. Near the bodies of the dead crewman were some pictures, crudely scratched on the boards with some sort of chalk. Some parts of the drawing had faded and been erased over time, but the gist of it was still simple enough to make out: Some people gathered around the mouth of a fountain that seemed to be in the shape of a serpent or dragon of some kind and drinking the water that issued from it. Then the people on the other side of the fountain began to look strange and twisted, and more so the further they got from it. Though still obviously human, the figures at the fringe of the sketch seemed malformed in some way, and a bit unearthly. A shiver ran down her spine involuntarily.

"What do you think that's all about?" she asked, visibly unnerved.

Cutter checked to see if anyone else in the group was going to answer, then forged ahead. "I'd be willing to bet that, by the end of this whole mess, we'll know exactly what that is all about."

"And probably wish we didn't," Molly interjected, looking knowingly around. "That's usually how these things go."

Nate murmured his agreement, then pulled out his journal from his pocket. Bending over a partially destroyed barrel, he used the top of it as a desk to sketch the skeletons, the drawing, and even one of the lava bombs, making notes in the margin of his picture, while the others kept poking around the ship's cavernous interior.

"Need a light?" Sully's voice caught him off guard as he appeared suddenly at Nate's shoulder. Nate glanced up. He hadn't even realized until Sully said so how dark it had gotten once Charlie and Chloe took their flashlights away. The light coming through the gaps in the planking didn't really amount to much.

"Sure," Nate muttered, stooping over his work again. "I lost mine when I went over the falls, I guess."

Sully obliged, holding a flashlight on the page. Nate continued drawing, willingly oblivious to the fact that Sully's offer was likely to be more than it appeared. It was almost certain that he wanted to talk, but Nate was caught up in what he was doing, as well as being determined to act like he hadn't noticed Sully's intentions. 

"Sooo..." Sully began, and Nate bristled. "How'd it go with Elena."

"Mm. Fine," Nate mumbled without looking up, his pencil in his teeth. The wind whistled woodenly through the creaking vessel to fill the brief silence that followed, the breathy sound seeming to draw attention to the hollowness of Nate's obviously untrue statement. He silently cursed himself for not being a better actor.

A frown turned up the corner of Sully's mouth, and he folded his arms. After indulging his protege with a moment's silence, he stated bluntly, "Kid, you're lousy at poker. Probably always will be. So I'm gonna ask again: How'd things go with Elena?"

Pencil scratched over paper in silence as Nate finished an aspect of his drawing before finally turning to talk face-to-face with his mentor. "Look, I'd rather not talk about it right now, OK?"

Sully's mustache twitched and a slight growl of irritation rumbled past his lips. "Nate, you're a good kid, but you have to learn the value of having friends, partners, people you can open up to every once in a while." He shrugged, lifting his palms flat in the air. "You've gotta get stuff out sometimes, it's not healthy to-"

"You a therapist now?" Nate asked coldly, cutting him off. "I didn't know that was in your skill set." He paused to glare at him, then added resignedly, "Really, Sully, I'm fine."

"Nate?" Chloe's voice interrupted their exchange. "Nate, I think we found the cargo hold. You want to check it out?"

Nate looked to where her light was shining on a hatch cover toward the other end of the ship. Eager for the distraction, he left his journal on the crate and began walking deliberately that direction, with Sully close behind him.

"Nate, you know I don't buy that bullshit for a minute," he said, his voice lowered to keep the others from overhearing them. "I just want you to know that I'm here to help-"

Nate couldn't take it anymore. Whirling in a fury on his older friend, he snapped, "If you really want to help, Sully, then why don't you-" he trailed off and looked past Sully, his eyes slowly widening. In the silence that followed Nate's outburst, the sounds of footsteps approaching could be heard clearly. "Oh, shit," Nate said, then turned and ran over to the others. Without a word, he reached around Chloe's back to grab a grenade off of her belt, startling her in the process.

"Hey, what the-"

But Nate was already running as the muzzle of the first gun appeared through the splintered hole in the stern. He rushed past Sully, unclipping the astrolabe from his shoulder holsters as he went, then pulled the pin on the grenade, keeping the safety lever depressed, and held the grenade and the astrolabe up side by side.

"Nate, the hell are you doin'?" Sully sputtered.

The first two revolutionaries arrived in the chamber, followed closely by Floki and then Garnier. As more armed goons flooded in behind the two masterminds of the crew, all clearly looking for blood, the French scientist's eyes went round as saucers on seeing Nate and the two objects he held in his hands, and Garnier screamed into the silence, "PUT YOUR GUNS DOWN!!!"

Floki's men seemed confused as to whether he was talking to them or to Drake and company, so the scientist clarified. "I mean YOU, you fools! Don't you see he's about to destroy the astrolabe?"

"Smart man," Nate said dryly, smirking at them. "Saved me the trouble of explaining."

Floki glared at his French counterpart, enraged, but didn't stop his men as they lowered the ends of their rifles to point at the ground.

"Good," Nate narrated. "Now, if we can all just continue to be reasonable here, this is what we'll do: You're going to let my friends walk out the other side of this ship unharmed. After that, I give you the astrolabe, and all bets are off." His eyes narrowed in a warning. "Any false move before that, and I let this grenade blow the key to Atlantis all the way to kingdom come."

The  four adventurers standing behind him all exchanged glances, then began to talk over each other.

"What the hell, kid-"

"No way we're leaving you-"

"Nate, are you crazy?"

"Go!" Nate barked without looking back. "I mean it."

He didn't even have to see their faces to feel the reluctance in the air, but soon he heard the shuffling of uncertain footsteps retreating behind him. Garnier looked as though he was unsure what to do, so Nate raised the two objects in his hands a little to encourage him to make a decision a little more quickly. Meanwhile, Floki was looking back and forth between Mathis and Nate with an expression somewhere between disbelief and seething anger.

"Fine," Garnier said finally. "Have it your way. As long as I get the astrolabe, I could care less what happens to your friends."

Nate smiled in victory. Floki looked affronted. "Oh you've gotta be-" The huge Icelander's body twisted one way, then the other as he assessed the situation and decided he didn't like it. In a movement of such speed as surprised even Nate, he shoved Garnier roughly to the side while whipping out his pistol, and then fired off a couple shots at Nate's retreating friends. Cries of surprise came from them, and Nate's jaw hardened, his hands acting almost of their own accord.

He hurled the grenade toward Floki and simultaneously hit the deck. A cacophony of shouts ensued as  Garnier and the revolutionaries scrambled for cover, but the grenade bounced off of a beam that, between the low light and the heat of the moment, Nate had overlooked, and it bounced back and fell on the ground about halfway between the two groups of people, roughly in the center of the ship.

"Get down!" Nate screamed, and covered his head.

Several stray shots rang out. An explosion from the grenade rattled the ship and the eardrums of everyone present. The sound of splintering, cracking, and splitting wood filled the air, and Nate got that unsettling feeling that you get sometimes when you're in an elevator and it starts to drop. Screams of panic and confusion assaulted his senses, and then there was a series of loud pops as the deck began to pitch. Looking up from the floor where he still was sprawled on his stomach, Nate saw that the explosion had blown a hole in the bottom of the hull, straight through the keel, and now the ship was beginning to fold down in the middle, the strained planking popping out around the stress line much like when you try to break a tree branch and only half of it separates and frays, while the rest of it remains intact.

"Hang on to somethin'!" Sully yelled from above him.

"Did that really need to be said?" Molly shouted back.

The crate Nate had left his journal on ended up on the other side of the divide from him, and as the ship continued to dip down it began sliding across the deck, eventually tipping over and spilling the little leather book from the top of it. Nate watched aghast as his journal skittered across the rough planking, nearly going off the bottom before getting caught on one of the ribs of the vessel. He clipped the astrolabe back to his holsters and hurled himself across the hole, bounced off the deck on the other side, and tumbled down to the bottom, stopping himself on the same rib his journal landed on. He clambered up onto the wooden member and pocketed the book as Chloe called out to him.

"Goddammit, Nate, what are you doing?"

Nate turned around on the narrow ledge he was perched on just as the ship reached the extent it seemed it was going to sag at that moment and it stopped with a jolt. A small shower of loose debris fell in the empty space between the two halves of the ship, which was now a gaping fifteen to twenty feet wide, and Nate swallowed a lump in his throat as he wondered how he would make it back across.

"Nate, look out!" Molly called.

Shaken back to reality by the cry, he looked up to see one of Floki's goons tumbling haplessly down the now-inclined deck and heading straight for him. Nate gave a startled yelp and tried to move out of the way, but the barreling henchman bowled him over and sent him head over heels toward the precipitous drop to the canyon floor below. With a grunt, Nate caught the edge of a shattered plank with the fingertips of his right hand, but only for a second before the combined force of gravity and the weight of Floki's crony caused him to lose his grip, and he spiraled out of the ship and into thin air.

"NATE!" Cutter screamed, and in the same breath grabbed a coil of rope and dove off his perch. With the form of an Olympic diver, Cutter prayed that aerodynamics would work in his favor to catch up to Nate, who was kicking and flailing like a child throwing a tantrum. It was only after he passed the end of the deck and into open airspace that it occurred to Charlie that it would've been nice to know if the other end of this rope was tied off to anything.

Nate was screaming as he tumbled over and over with the erratic movements of his body, thrashing as though it could somehow make something appear in midair that he could grab onto. When an arm wrapped around his rib cage, just under his armpits, and then a moment later his free fall came to an abrupt stop, he was nothing short of bewildered.

"A little help here?" Cutter grunted in his ear, obviously straining with the effort to hold onto a rough rope with one hand and support Nate with the other. Nate was more than happy to oblige, and grabbed the rope with both of his hands.

"I told you all to get out of there!" Nate shouted over the wind that was rushing by as they swung.

"You're welcome!" Cutter called back.

Nate was carefully watching the cliff to make sure they wouldn't swing into it, but spared a frustrated glance at his companion. "That wasn't a thank you!"

"I know," Cutter replied dryly. "We'll talk about that later. Right now, let's get the bloody hell out of here!"

The sounds of gunfire could be heard from above, and Nate could only imagine the firefight that was going on between the two halves of the ship right now. "You're right," he agreed. "Let's go."

The two men began climbing, Cutter first, Nate second, as the rope continued to swing like a pendulum beneath the crumbling barque stuck in the cliffs. They had only made it about five or six feet when another loud crash came from above, and for a moment Nate thought that the ship was finally giving out. A moment later, though, he surmised it was the remainder of one of the masts toppling and punching a hole through the deck when a tangle of rigging and tattered sailcloth dropped out through the breach in the middle of the underside.

"Watch yourself!" Cutter called as a broken piece of a spar swung through the  air from a loop of rope. Nate kicked it away when it came too close to them, the movement adding another erratic curve to their swing. "Grab that rope, will you?" Cutter prodded as they passed close to another dangling line.

"Gladly!" Nate replied, dropping off Cutter's line onto it. They climbed side by side for another few feet when suddenly several of Floki's men came falling out of the ship,screaming as they did, and one of them fell all the way to the ground while the other two snagged some lines just as Nate and Charlie had. The new arrivals swung away from Nate and Cutter, their elliptical paths putting them initially at a distance from each other, but it wasn't hard to tell that that break would only last so long.

"Oh, perfect," Cutter said sarcastically as he watched the swinging goons get closer. "We get to play Tarzan together for a bit."

"Keep climbing!" Nate shouted.

The ropes were moldy and slippery at times, and creaked disconcertingly under the weight of even a single person, but they all climbed up them with as much speed as possible, both pairs of men keeping a close eye on the other. Nate had just glanced up to see how far was left to go when he heard Cutter call out, "Comin' through!" He looked down to see the Englishman land a boot to the underside of one of the thug's jaws as he swung in close proximity. To his credit, the thug did not let go.

"See you in hell, Drake!"

Nate turned and realized that the other man was about to crash directly into him with a knife drawn. Nate managed to awkwardly fend off the attack, but not without feeling the knife's edge graze his stomach.

There was no turning back now: their passing scuffles had altered their paths to put them on opposing arcs with each other, and they would continue to meet in the middle until one side or the other had victory. Nate kicked his feet wildly to try to turn himself as he reached the end of his arc, and then slowly began the trip back. "Cutter!" he yelled. "How do we get ourselves into these situations?"

"Confusing a plan with a grenade will get you every time!" the Englishman shouted back.

"Touche!" Nate focused and planned his attack as he approached the revolutionary, but at the last moment the rope twisted him in a bad way and he was caught off guard, costing him a slash to his upper arm from the goon's knife. He cried out in pain and momentarily let go with the injured arm as he swung to the other extreme of the rope's reach.

"You OK?" he heard Cutter call. The spin had put him facing away from the clash between Charlie and his man, so Nate was glad to hear that he was still in the game as well.

"Nothin' an Ace bandage won't fix!" Nate yelled back. He could see Charlie had pulled a switchblade from somewhere in his jacket, and watched as the Englishman swung back to engage his opponent with a well-placed kick to the gut and followed immediately by slashing his rope. The goon fell to his death with a scream.

"Real sorry to do that mate..." Cutter said without much sincerity.

The wind whistled mournfully through the canyon, combining with the strained creaks and groans of the lines as they grew slack and then tight with the changing dynamics. Determined not to mess up this pass, Nate clenched his jaw and decided on his move. He saw the grin on the approaching thug's face, and the way he was holding the knife blade out flat and to the side, and knew that the goon was planning to do the same to him that Charlie had done to the other revolutionary. "Like hell you are!" Nate mumbled to himself. Letting go with his right hand just before he engaged the thug, Nate batted the knife away and then grabbed onto the man's rope above his head, causing himself to swing around behind the thug and curtailing both of their swings simultaneously. As he crashed against the man's back, Nate brought an elbow down sharply on the hollow spot in his collarbone, and the thug cried out in pain, letting go of the rope. As the man fell the two ropes twisted, spinning Nate crazily for a moment before he let go of the one rope to keep climbing the line he first had.

"Ha! They never taught that in P.E.!" Nate joked as he climbed.

"You had physical education in the Catholic boy's home?"

When the two treasure hunters reached the ship again, the shooting was in full swing, with Garnier and Floki having both disappeared and left behind a handful of unfortunate lackeys to take the brunt of Sully, Chloe, and Molly's relentless firepower. Nate hauled himself up onto a rib to stand, Cutter taking a spot next to him, and they both drew their weapons and joined the assault on the remaining enemies. Soon it was down to just one stubborn revolutionary who had wedged himself in a hard-to-hit spot near a support post at the stern. Nate kept up his barrage of bullets from the Para 9 while he urged Cutter to get the others and start making their way off the ship. Cutter grabbed the rope he had taken to catch Nate and climbed it hand over hand, scaling the deck like a climbing wall at a gym, and soon had made his way to the rest of the gang.

"Go!" Nate called without looking away from his target. "Get the hell out of here!" Still maintaining a steady onslaught of bullets over his shoulder, Nate also began climbing the deck.

Chloe, Molly, and Charlie all began working their way toward the hole in the bow, where they could crawl out onto the mountain, while Sully fired off a few more shots and then turned to follow. But as he turned, the ship lurched again and Sully lost his footing, tumbling down toward the hole in the bottom of the ship.

"Sully!" Nate screamed. He launched off the deck and grabbed one of the ropes hanging down, swung out, and managed to grab one of Sully's hands as he fell past. They swung out together over the abyss and then slowly back, all the while bullets whizzing past them from the one remaining thug. "Grab the rope!" Nate shouted when they came within reach of the line on deck. Sully did, and Nate planted both feet and pushed off again, swinging quickly back toward the other side. The thug gave a startled cry as Nate suddenly appeared beside him, and Nate grabbed onto the man's shirt to try and rip him off of his post.

Another several loud pops split the air, and Sully yelled out, "Nate! Time to get off this thing! NOW!"

Nate wrestled with the thug and was nearly pulled from the rope, but eventually managed to drag him off his perch, sending him rolling down the deck and over the edge. There were more creaking and groans of strained timbers, and the ship fell another several feet. Nate quickly pushed off and swung back to the other side, landing on the rope a little below Sully.

"Hurry it up kid!" his mentor called as he clambered his way toward the top. Nate was right behind him, looking up as he climbed to see if the others had made it out. There was no sign of anyone. Good, he thought.

They were nearly to the top when a crack louder than the rest made Nate's heart skip a beat. The deck turned perfectly vertical, and suddenly the entire ship began to slide. "Oh, Christ!" Nate screamed.

The next few moments were chaos. Snapping, breaking, screeching, crashing, the entire ship slid down the side of the canyon wall, it's plunge only slowed by the friction of being smashed up against its own other half on the other side of the gorge. They hit the ground, and Nate and Sully were thrown around like rag dolls as the barque fragmented, different pieces spinning in different directions, and suddenly they were plunged into the river. The incredible din went quiet as once again Nate plunged below the surface, but the chaos continued as beams and boards and spars randomly plunged like knives into the water around him, which was already a swirl of splinters and debris. Nate kicked like a frog, searching the wreck for his friend while hoping not to be impaled by a stray pole of some kind. He tumbled over as he got caught up in part of the ship's structure as it rolled across the riverbed, but when he came out on the other side he saw him. Sully's dark figure loomed in the water a few yards away, also struggling to get free of the mess they were in. Nate swam up beside him, wrapped his arm around his waist, and pulled him out of the tangled remains of Xu Fu's ship.

Chapter Text

"Sully!"

Nate's face went underwater, then came up again. All around him the river was littered with the debris of Xu Fu's crumbling ship, and he fought and kicked to keep from getting pulled down with the wreckage.

"I'm here kid!" Sully's voice came back to him over the din.

A section of the hull shot to the surface, and the two of them smashed into it and rolled down the side until the river carried them past.

"Crap!"

"This way!"

One moment they were above water, then the next they were below, only to be spit back to the surface as another fragment of the ship rolled over and caused a surge. Nate found that trying to keep track of Sully was almost impossible, but he fought for it nonetheless. He spit filthy water from his mouth as he broke the surface, only to inhale another mouthful a moment later when the end of a beam struck him in the stomach and knocked the wind out of him. His cry of pain was stifled as he was sucked below the churning rapids again, then a hand grabbed him by the shirt and hauled him up.

"Stay with me, kid!"

From what Nate could tell, Sully had found a piece of the deck that he was clinging to with one hand while holding Nate above water with the other. It struck him as funny, seeing that this whole thing had started as his attempt to save Sully, but he was in no place to complain.

The river curved, and the two treasure hunters clawed their way to a low beach at the apex of the bend. Sully walked a few steps out of the water, dripping wet, and then dropped heavily to a seat, while Nate crawled on his hands and knees before rolling onto his back and flopping an arm over his face. They both lay panting and coughing, and Nate closed his eyes after a minute and began imagining himself on some tropical paradise beach far, far away from where he was...

"Nate, move your ass!" Sully growled suddenly and grabbed his arm, yanking him back away from the water's edge.  Nate stumbled in the direction Sully was leading and looked back to see a portion of the ship's bow scrape down the shore, carving off a huge chunk of the sand where he had just been laying before coming free and slowly drifting down the river.

Nate stared, his chest heaving. "Holy... That thing took half the beach with it!"

Sully nodded and put his clenched fists on his hips. "Good riddance. This job's enough of a beach already."

Still watching the disappearing chunk of detritus as it washed downstream, Nate spared a glance at his mentor and scoffed. "That... was a bit of a stretch, Sully."

He shrugged. "Eh, you of all people know it's true."

Nate scowled, but decided not to press the issue. Turning on his heel, he muttered, "Time to make our way back to find the others I guess."

"We could do that," Sully said, not moving from his position. "Or, we could go that way," he pointed further downstream, "and figure out where this ship came from. You know it can't have come up the river without this canyon being flooded, which tells me that the sea must be nearby. The others will catch up. They know where to find us."

Nate stared morosely at him, then shrugged his shoulders. "Sure," he said resignedly.

They trudged in silence, picking their way along the river and forging up onto the side of the mountain when passage on the bank was impossible. Nothing they were passing even registered in Nate's mind, so caught up was he in his thoughts, and he mostly just followed Sully's lead. After a while of this, Sully stopped in the middle of the path and turned to him.

"Alright, kid. Enough of the silent treatment. I know you don't wanna talk to me, but you've been in a funk ever since you've been back from the States, and it's bogging you and everyone around you down." Sully narrowed his eyes at him. "You may not like it- hell, I don't really like it, but we've got a job to do, and we need you Nate." He folded his arms stubbornly over his chest. "So, like it or not, you're either going to tell me what happened, or stop moping around like someone peed on your favorite couch. Deal?"

Nate glared at him and was about to snap at him again, but he stopped himself. He looked at Sully's furrowed brows, his bushy mustache quirked up on one side over the thin, frowning line of his mouth. He cut the perfect figure of a stern but caring father, and Nate felt that thing in him that wanted to just get even more cold and hard give just a little. After all, Sully was the closest thing to a father he had ever had. Nate hung his head and mumbled, "Elena left me."

The silence that followed was long and palpable. It was only after he heard Sully sigh that Nate looked up and saw he had relaxed his stance a bit, his weathered hands returning to rest on his hips. Shaking his head low, Sully said quietly, "That's what I was afraid of." He studied the ground by his feet, then looked back at Nate. "What did she say?"

Swallowing the lump in his throat, Nate struggled for words. He hadn't had to think much about Elena's note since he left it in the trash there in America, and the memory brought with it a dull kind of pain. While he stood trying to muster up the courage to talk, he listlessly drug the pad of his thumb over his belt buckle, cleaning a smudge of mud off of the spade design etched into the bronze. "She was gone when I got there," he began. "Rented a place in New York. She left a note, though. Said she was afraid of losing me, of me dying I guess. She couldn't handle having to worry all the time, so she took off." Nate gave another weary sigh and lifted his head. "She said something about thinking I was going to be a Hercules, but instead that I turned out to be more of an... Atlas, I guess? I think that's what she said..." he mumbled the last part and trailed off.

Sully hummed in response, then motioned for them to start walking again. "She thought that you'd be able to set the load down eventually, or at least share it." Maybe it was supposed to be a question, but it sounded more like a statement to Nate. "That what she was saying?"

"I...I think so."

"Well," Sully pressed his back to the mountain and shimmied along a narrow ledge until the path widened again. "There's no easy way to say this, kid, but... she's not wrong. You should learn to share the load a bit." He looked over his shoulder to make eye contact with Nate but kept walking. "Remember what I was tryin' to tell you back in London?"

Nate was despondent. "Yeah, yeah, rub it in..." He grumbled and kicked a rock, watching it fall to the river with a splash.

"I'm not rubbing it in," Sully insisted. "I'm tryin' to help you get through this whole thing."

"I can't."

With another glance back at his protege, Sully inquired, "Can't what?", as he continued to push forward.

"Share the load."

Sully's eyes narrowed again. "Why not?"

Nate huffed and ignored the question in favor of focusing on traversing the rugged terrain. "Jesus, Sullivan, do you have to keep the pace quite so brisk?"

He raised an eyebrow. "You're not going to tell me you're getting old, are you? That's my card to play."

"No," Nate said petulantly. "It's just that if you have to pursue this interrogation of yours, I'm not all that good at talking about this stuff while bustin' my ass through the mountains."

"No, you're just not good at talking about this stuff period. Mountains or no mountains. Case in point, you still haven't answered my questio-"

"CAUSE I JUST CAN'T, OK!" Nate exploded. "It's my job to do, and it's my problem!"

Sully stopped and turned at Nate's sudden display of emotion, his grey eyes meeting those of his surrogate son. Nate's eyes, though normally a bright and animated sky blue, seemed dark and cloudy, like a thunderhead rolling in, about to unleash a storm.

"Everything good that's ever happened to me I just have to screw up, and I'm not  going to see anyone else get hurt from this!" Nate continued, his exclamation bordering on a rant. "I came back to get you all out of this mess so that you could go home and not have to think about this anymore, and I'll take care of this shit-show of a job." His chest was rising and falling heavily with emotion, and his voice dropped low as he added, "If I'm lucky, maybe it'll be the death of me and I won't have to wreck anyone else's life. You all would be better off without me."

Sully stood stunned for a minute, then shook a reprimanding finger in Nate's direction. "That's some real shitty logic there, kid. This ain't some catastrophe that you need to rescue us from, we're all in this together. We work together, Nate- always have and always will. And you know what?" He made sure to make eye contact with Nate as he continued. "Whether you're Atlas or whether you're Hercules, you've got one thing neither of them had." He paused and inclined himself toward Nate a little more. "You've got friends that have your back. Me, Chloe, Charlie- goddammit, even Molly, apparently- we're all ready to go to hell and back with you. And that's something none of those Greek guys had." He put a hand on Nate's shoulder. It was gentle, but affirming. "You made a bad play, Nate, but you're not out of the game. Neither is Elena. So just make some room under that big open sky for all of us to get under there and help you, and you'll see Nate. We've got this. We'll whip their asses into next week."

Nate stared at him with a torn look, the battle to quell his inner turmoil evident in the cloudy depths of his blue eyes. Finally succumbing to his mentor's fatherly wisdom, he muttered "Guess I don't have much of a choice, do I?"

That got a genuine chuckle from Sully, who dropped his head and shook it in amusement. "Guess not. Looks like you're stuck with us." He smiled warmly, then jerked his head in the direction of the path ahead of them. "Now, c'mon." His eyes sparkled. "Atlantis ain't gonna find itself."

Atlantis... The word sent a shiver down Nate's spine, and electricity through his veins. He was reminded of the thought he had earlier that day and had voiced to Molly, when he told her that he had gotten so caught up in the drama, the tragedy, the rescue that had been this whole mission... there were times he couldn't even remember why he started on it. Truth be told, once Elena had left him, with nothing but his own stupidity and jackass self to blame- there was a lot of things he had a hard time remembering. Hearing the name of the city they were trying to track down was like cold water to the face.

"Yeah, let's go," Nate said, his voice still low, but his mood slowly on the mend.

They resumed walking, and Nate was only a little surprised that Sully went right back to his upbeat gait. In Nate's still relatively glum mood it took some extra effort on his part to keep up, but he was a little glad that someone was there to keep the momentum going.

"So I don't mean to pry," Sully began carefully. "But surely this isn't the first time you two have talked about this kind of thing, right? What did you tell her before?"

Nate scratched the back of his neck and frowned. "Uh... I think I said something about how the only thing it takes for evil to win is for good men to do nothing... or, ya know, something like that..." he muttered.

Sully looked at him with raised eyebrows. "You seriously said that?"

"Hey, it's a good line..."

"Yeah," Sully scoffed. "...the first thousand times it got said."

Nate huffed. "Well, I didn't know I was going to be answering to the cliche police, so..." he gestured in a vaguely dismissive way.

"Somebody's gotta keep you honest," Sully retorted as he climbed over a fallen tree.

Nate smiled. The banter came easy and felt familiar and comforting. It made him feel like he might make it through this after all. Like maybe, just maybe, he could move on from this and never look back. Vaulting a waist--high ledge, he scratched his head and winced at the amount of grit that caked his scalp. "So, what actually happened in Egypt while I was gone?"

""Eh, the usual." Sully shrugged. "Showed up, found the secret entrance into the creepy underground temple, survived a booby trap."

Nate raised his eyebrows. ""What kind of booby trap?"

"A scale that dumped you into a pit of spikes if you weighed more than a goddamn ostrich feather. Sheesh, talk about stilting the odds..."

"Ma'at." Nate offered. "The scales of Ma'at."

"That's the one," Sully agreed.

Scoffing, Nate muttered, "Pretty crazy surviving booby traps is 'the usual', huh?"

"Speak for yourself," Sully answered, pushing a branch out of his way and inadvertently letting it snap back in his protege's face. "You're the guy who fought a whole squadron of planes single handedly from a cable car."

"Oh c'mon!" Nate replied. "That was not a booby trap!"

"Yeah? I'm startin' to think you just like saying the word 'booby'."

Nate opened his mouth to give a comeback, but only ended up laughing instead. "You and your dirty mind." He grabbed a rock and pulled himself up a big step.

"Anyway," Sully continued, "then we found the map, the big hairy villain showed up, started waving guns around, and the rest, as they say, is history."

"Hmm." Nate lowered himself from a ledge behind Sully. "That guy is really hairy, isn't he?"

"Could skin 'im and use him for a rug..." Sully joked.

"Eww."

Nate and Sully walked under a looming rock overhang and emerged from the shadows back into full daylight. And for the second time that day, both of their mouths opened in wonder.

In the plain that stretched before them, two monstrous figures carved from stone stood hunched over, their heads bowed, arms raised, and elbows bent at right angles, their palms pressing flat to the sky above, in a pose clearly mimicking that of men carrying a great load overhead. Each had the stature of a titan, with muscular bodies so carefully and realistically carved that you could almost imagine their sturdy limbs flexing and straining with the exertion of their task. Their jaws were hard set, faces contorted with concentration, but their eyes stared straight ahead, focused on some object in the distance that Nate and Sully were unable to see.

"Well I'll be goddamn," Sully rumbled.

Nate looked on, mouth agape and wonder in his eyes. "The pillars of Hercules," he said with bated breath. "It's gotta be!" He spun in a slow circle, taking in their surroundings. Behind the two titans, on the side of the plain closest to him and Sully, was the remains of the crumbling facade of a stone building that was apparently built into the cliff, with a square-cut header over the door that rested on cracked Corinthian columns. Beyond the statues, the grassy valley was vacant until, on the far side of the plain, a ridge rose up, made of a of large stones haphazardly piled up.

"In front of 'the pillars of Hercules'," Nate mused. "So it must be somewhere close. Like really, really close."

Sully hummed in response and stroked his chin. "What do you think those guys are looking at?" he pondered.

Nate glanced first at Sully and then at the two stone giants that towered over him. "Good question." He scanned the visible horizon. "We should find out." Trotting over to the ruined facade, Nate called, "Here. I'll give you a boost and then you can help me up." With a roll of his shoulders, Nate laced the fingers of both hands together and bent his knees slightly while Sully rested his hands on Nate's shoulders and put his right foot up into Nate's palms.

"Alley-oop!" Sully grunted as he pushed off with his left foot while Nate heaved on his right. The added lift got Sully's fingers to the top of the stone header, and he climbed up on top of it and knelt down. "C'mon, kid. Grab my hand."

Nate jumped up to reach his hand, and Sully helped pull him up onto the large, flat header with him. They both scaled the face of the ruins, using various architectural details for hand and footholds until they stood on the tops of two pillars, about twenty feet apart from each other and directly behind the two statues at the level of the figure's shoulders. Shooting a look over at Sully, Nate asked, "You ready, old man?"

Sully smirked and gave a nod of affirmation. "As I'll ever be, boy-o."

Together they jumped, bending their knees and swinging their arms to get as much lift as possible from their takeoff, and cleared the gap between them and the statues in a giant lunge. Grasping onto the giant stone arm to catch himself, Nate pulled himself up and stood on the Titan's broad shoulder, resting a hand on the neck for balance's sake. The stone felt cool against his palm. "Whoa," Nate breathed as his eyes moved toward the horizon.

Beyond the ridge lay a huge lake, pooled in a bowl-shaped depression in the mountain, with turquoise water that sparkled in the sun, its surface placid but for a few small ripples when there was a breeze. On the far edge of the pristine pool rose the corners of what could only be a gate: broad, square columns of stone jutting out of the water, about thirty feet apart, with just a hint of the top edge of the massive doors between them visible above the surface. The entire arrangement was leaning back at an steep angle, as if it had sunk into the ground at some point, and not far behind it the water ended, giving way to a field of coarse, irregular rock that was black as coal. Nate recognized it as an old lava flow, out of which the crumbling tops of buildings surged sporadically, each of them at strange angles to each other. Finally, in the distance, beyond the strange scene in front of them, the mountains opened up to the shimmering North Atlantic that was dotted with whitecaps and breakers that rolled in toward the cliffs, the roar faintly audible as the salt water crashed against the rocks.

"It's incredible..." Nate whispered, his eyes glassy. In his peripheral he could see Sully lifting himself up to assume a similar position as him on the other statue, and then the older man also paused in wonder and stared at the scene before them. A few moments of silence passed.

Nate scoffed softly and shook his head. Sully looked over at him, and he swept his arm out toward the horizon and spoke in a voice loud enough for Sully to hear, "'If I have seen further, it is by standing on the shoulders of giants'." He paused, still taking in the sight. "If only Newton could have made it this far."

Sully frowned, allowing a moment's reverence for the deceased scientist, then then nodded in Nate's direction with a smirk. "You about ready to put that thing to more use than just bein' a keychain?"

For a moment Nate was puzzled, but then he remembered the astrolabe hanging from his shoulder holsters and his hand moved to touch the bronze. "Yeah. Let's do it."

A sudden commotion from the entrance to the valley drew their attention, and both treasure hunters looked down to see Chloe, Cutter, and Molly spilling onto the grassy plain and staring up at the statues, equally as dumbstruck as they had been. "Nate? Sully?" Chloe called.

"'Bout time you all showed up!," Sully yelled cheefully.

"What'd we miss?" Charlie asked.

One corner of Nate's mouth turned up in a crooked smile as he looked down at the Englishman from his perch on the statue. "Oh, just... finding the lost city of Atlantis is all."

"Yeah, yeah," Cutter groused. "Be a smart-ass, will you?"

"C'mon, kid," Sully said in a lower voice just to Nate, "let's go finish this up," he paused and made eye contact, "together."

Chapter Text

"Wish I'd brought my camera," remarked Charlie, admiring the pristine water as they walked around the perimeter of the pool to get closer to the submerged gate.

"You a photographer?" Chloe asked brightly.

"Yeah, he still uses a Polaroid," Sully chimed in.

"Oh, you're hilarious mate," Cutter muttered.

Led by Nate, the group stopped at a position on the lake about a stone's throw from the gate columns. "This oughta do," he announced, turning toward the water.

"Bizarre, isn't it?" Molly commented as she looked out at the ruined tops of structures that protruded from the lava flow behind them. "Atlantis was destroyed not only by a flood, but a volcanic eruption? And it left this in its wake." She gestured to the crumbling buildings.

Hands on her hips, Chloe joined Molly in her observation of the city. "It was a great day to own a penthouse suite," she said casually.

Nate stared into the sapphire-blue depths of the pool before him, his eyes intent as they scanned the gate and its surroundings. He guessed that the bowl-shaped cauldron formed by the volcano was every bit of a hundred and fifty feet across and probably fifty feet deep, but the water was so clean the bottom was easily visible. He could see where the bottoms of the gate columns sunk into the ground, and the geometric shapes of square cut blocks forming a terrace in front of them, with steps descending down from the terrace to disappear into the volcanic rock that had covered them. Here and there a flash of color from a fish swimming by caught Nate's attention as they darted back and forth in their shimmering paradise.

"Alright," he said. "I'm going in. Anyone coming with me?" He looked around and was met with blank stares. "I'll, uh, take that as a no," he mumbled.

"You're the one with the key, cowboy," Chloe reminded him. "Besides, it looks safe enough. Just go take a peek at the gate and we'll look for anything up here while you do." Chloe said, giving him a pat on the shoulder.

Nate shot a mopey look at his four companions. "Alright, just wait here," he muttered, turning back square to the edge of the pool. "I'll go check it out and let you know what I find."

The water closed around him as he dove in headfirst and propelled himself toward the bottom with strong, regular strokes. Fresh, cold, and cleansing, it was everything Nate had expected from a mountain lake, and he could feel the blood surging through his veins. He pumped his arms and legs in rhythm as he glided over to the gate and followed the submerged structure down. The harsh African sunlight shining through brilliant azure water cast a mosaic of light and color and shadow: blues, golds, and silvers in pebbled splotches, dancing across the ancient square stones, and growing ever darker in their hue as he swam deeper. Nate arched his back and angled his descent to cut over in front of the actual doors instead of just the gateposts, and the bronze astrolabe swung lazily against his thigh. Here, the delicate light show afforded him glimpses of writing and designs carved into the gate's surface, eroded by time and the elements, and further obscured by various bits of seaweed and other marine flora growing on it, as well as patches of mud that clung to the pitted rock. A school of minnows flitted away as he neared the bottom, causing a small cloud of silt to rise up. Close enough now to almost touch the paved terrace, he spotted an anomaly in the craftsmanship on the gate.  

At first it appeared to only be another clump of mud caked on, but then he noticed it seemed to have too regular a shape to be accidental. He swam closer and dug at it with his fingers, clawing away at the edges as he tried to reveal what could be there. Within ten or fifteen seconds, he had uncovered enough to know that the grime he saw was stuck in a distinctly round impression in the gate's surface that looked to be about the right size for what he was looking for, but the muck was caked in hard and his lungs were burning. He needed air. Allowing himself to sink down to the stone pavers below him, he planted his feet and then pushed himself off again to begin swimming for the surface.

He broke topside gasping for breath, treading water while he wiped at his eyes. Sully and the others were looking expectantly at him, and Cutter called, "'ow is it, mate? Any deadly denizens of the deep?"

"Ah, just that giant squid down there," Nate replied, still panting heavily. The water tasted brackish on his lips as it drained down his face. "I'm pretty sure it's asleep, though."

"What?"

"Kidding," Nate said, paddling a few strokes toward shore. "I think I found what we're looking for, but I'm gonna have to clear the mud out of it to know for sure. Throw me that stick, will you?" He gestured to a piece of driftwood on the shore. Molly tossed it to him, and he grabbed it.

"Just watch your back down there, Captain Nemo," Sully warned.

"Will do," Nate replied before taking a long, deep breath and plunging below the water again. Now, more familiar with the territory and knowing what he's looking for, the descent felt easier and went quicker, even with carrying the stray branch in his hand. Soon enough he was at the bottom of the gates again, in front of the mysterious round recess, and he began scraping away at the built-up sludge clogging the hole. By the time his body began giving him the telltale signs of oxygen depletion again, he had cleared enough away to identify the north and west points of the axes that were recessed deeper then the rest of the concave shape, confirming his suspicion that he was indeed uncovering an exact hemisphere of the astrolabe carved into the rock. Reluctantly leaving his work to go refresh his starving lungs, he again pushed off for the top.

This time the questions seemed to start before he had even fully made it above the surface. A jumbled chorus of "How is it?"'s, and "What'd you find?"'s came pouring at him as he blinked away the saline water.

"It's- ahh- definitely it!" he gasped, smoothing back his dripping bangs. "I think I can-uhh- get it in one more go!"

"Alright, kid," Sully rumbled. "We haven't turned up anything up here yet, so we're gonna go check out those ruins while you do that. Just make sure you don't push yourself too far- we don't need anyone drowning, got it?"

"Got it!" Nate wheezed, his voice cracking from exertion. "All good. See you all in a minute!"

Chloe watched as he ducked below the surface again and began to dive deep into the natural cauldron. Her mouth twitched up on the corner with Platonic affection, but also with concern. It didn't take a genius to see that Nate's mood had been off for a while now, and she was worried that something bad had happened between him and Elena. Was this somehow her fault? Should she not have suggested him going back to the States to see her? Maybe Elena would have been better just having some time and distance to cool off...

"Hey, Bright Eyes, ya' comin'?" Charlie called, breaking her out of her reverie.

"Yeah, yeah... Be right there," she replied distantly, turning to jog after them while her gaze remained over her shoulder on Nate's diminishing form. Finally tearing her eyes away before she tripped and fell on her face, she picked her way over a boulder and onto the lava flow and found herself in step with Sully. She was about to keep going by when he stopped her by putting a gentle hand on her shoulder.

"Chloe, hey- you got a minute?"

Despite her sober contemplation of a few seconds prior, Chloe was quick on the draw- a habit she developed in a line of work that required her to never lose her cool. "Depends on what for," she quipped slyly.

Sully frowned and held back, so she stopped as well. "Keep your pants on, I just wanna ask you something," he growled, looking to the side in a way that suggested he was uncomfortable saying what he was about to say. Sighing, he scrubbed a tired hand over his face. "It's just- it's about Nate. The kid's been-" Sully lifted his palms and then dropped them with a huff, clearly struggling to know how to put words to his thoughts.

"A bit down?" Chloe suggested.

Sully scoffed and looked at her out of the corner of his eye. "That'd be putting it mildly." He sighed again and put his hands on his hips. "Look, don't tell him I told you this, but Elena left him."

Chloe's face immediately sagged into a look of shock and grief.

"I know. It sucks," Sully continued. "Though I don't think any of us could really blame her. Nate's not exactly been perfect husband material. But that's the point- he knows he screwed up and he's angry with himself." He looked Chloe in the eye, his expression deathly serious. "I was hoping you could help me keep an eye on him. I'm afraid his grief will make him reckless. I think he figures he's got nothing left to lose."

For a moment, Chloe was speechless. "Oh, god," she said softly. "Yes, yes of course. I've got your back- his back." She shook her head in disbelief. "That's terrible."

Nodding, Sully said, "Yeah, I haven't seen him so down since-" Sully stopped himself, realizing that the last time he had seen Nate this upset was after his brother died in Panama. Fortunately, Cutter and Molly picked that moment to rejoin them, saving Sully any further explanation.

"Nothing there," Charlie announced flatly. "Those buildings are all just full of debris and-" He paused, noticing the looks on Chloe and Sully's faces. "Am I... interrupting something?"

Again, Chloe quickly rebounded. "Ha-ha, no," was her sarcastic reply. Waving back toward the lake, she added, "No trouble, then. Let's just go check on Nate."

Chloe and Cutter took the lead, while Molly lagged behind and playfully elbowed Sully in the ribs. "Might be a bit young for you, but she's got a decent ass."

Sully rolled his eyes. "Oh-ho, look who got an attitude while she was away."

"I blame it all on you," Molly said coyly over her shoulder as she walked on ahead.

The point of the stick struck hollow against the stone gate as Nate, clutching the driftwood in an underhand grip, drove it over and over into the astrolabe-shaped indentation, freeing up the last chunks of mud from it. Each swing sent a flurry of tiny bubbles up in its wake; the effort of working under the water was using up Nate's oxygen quickly, but he was making good headway now. As the last of the grime fell away in a large flake, he tossed the branch aside and hurriedly unclipped the bronze sphere from his holsters. Casting the carabiner away as well, he lined up the thick axis rims with their respective places in the gates and tried to slide it in, only for it to stop an inch or so in. Confused, it took Nate a moment or two to realize that the fine meridian lines tracing between the axes also had their channels in the gates that they had to line up with. As his diaphragm began to convulse and his lungs burned with their need for air, he tried a couple more times in different orientations before finding the right one to admit the astrolabe to half its diameter, the bronze artifact locking into the gate with a click. Nate swam back a few feet in anticipation of the effect, but nothing happened. His brow furrowed.

What the hell?, he thought. Is there something I missed?  Maybe it needs to turn, or... He squeezed his eyes shut against the building pressure he felt in his chest and head.

Time for air, Nate!

His ascent was rapid, nearly frantic at the end when his chest was feeling like it was about to explode. Breaking out into fresh air with a spray of water, his first breath was a ragged gasp, followed by several coughs as he choked on water. He shook his head to clear his eyes and paddled toward the shore to rest on the rocks at the edge.

"Jesus Christ, Nate, you musta been down there for five minutes!" Sully exclaimed as his protege slumped over a boulder near his feet. "I was gettin' worried about you!"

"Are you all right?" Chloe asked with concern.

"Yeah- yeah, I'm fine," he panted, propping himself up on one elbow as he wiped his mouth with the back of his hand. "I got it cleared out and the astrolabe is in place."

"And?" Molly asked expectantly.

"Aaand... nothing," he said sheepishly.

Cutter put his fists on his hips indignantly. "Oh, for crying out loud, mate! You're saying you nearly drowned yourself for something that doesn't even work?"

"Just-just give me a minute, okay?" Nate, still heaving deep and heavy breaths, rolled onto his back and scrubbed both hands over his wet face. After a few moments catching his breath, he sat up, his feet still dangling in the crystal pool. "I think it must turn, or push, or something. I was gonna try some things out, but I was running out of air. I'll get it this time."

As Nate moved to shove off from the side and swim back out, Cutter suddenly declared, "I'll go with you!"

Nate stopped and looked back at him with doubt. "Are you sure you want to do that? I mean, it's no big deal, and I know your claustrophobia-"

"I'm sure," he said with finality. "I'm not just going to sit on the sidelines here while you do all the work, and you need someone down there to help you in case anything goes wrong." He stalked determinedly up to the edge of the water, then in a sudden shift of tone he delicately dipped the toe of his leather boot in while holding his arms out straight to the side and wobbling slightly in an exaggerated show of balance. Returning to a neutral stance, he scrunched his nose and winced at Nate. "Is it cold?" he asked in a small voice. 

With a scoff and a shake of his head at the Englishman's antics, Nate deadpanned, "Just get in or stay on shore, ya' big sissy."

Cutter chuckled and then dove in, and a moment later came up spluttering. "Shit! Th-that's bloody cold!" He hugged himself as he stood in the shallows.

Nate shrugged. "Hey, you're the one who wanted to come."

"I know, I know," Dropping his arms and balling up his fists, Cutter squared his shoulders and braced himself. "Let's just do this and get it done, right?"

They both dove, and Nate swam a few feet down and lingered, making eye contact with Charlie to see how he felt. The big Brit gave him a thumbs up and they pressed on. Nate stayed just slightly ahead to lead the way, but kept one eye on Charlie in case his claustrophobia got the better of him. It was about twenty feet down when Nate saw him make a quick and sudden 180, in an impressively tight turn that would make even Olympic swimmers take note with raised eyebrows, and begin frantically swimming for the top. Nate followed as fast as he could, but by the time he made it to the surface, Charlie was already almost to shore. The Englishman pulled himself out and sat on a rock with his hands planted firmly at his sides as the other three treasure hunters on shore came running over to him. With a few strong strokes, Nate reached the edge of the pool and hauled himself out just as Chloe knelt down behind Charlie and put a hand on his shoulder. 

"Charlie!" Chloe said, giving him a gentle shake as the Brit sat hunched over and gently rocking back and forth on the rock. "Charlie, what's wrong."

Nate stepped closer but stayed a few feet away. He watched his friend's face and noticed that he almost seemed to be avoiding looking at him, and it made Nate's brow furrow in worry.

"No, no, I'm fine!" Cutter said harshly. "Just, just give me a minute and I'll be fine to go again!" He shook his head, seeming almost angry with himself. "Just got a bit overwhelmed there for a minute. I swear though- I swear I'll go! Just give me a minute to catch my breath-"

"Charlie," Nate chuckled uncertainly. "Hey, buddy, you don't have to go-"

"Don't even think about going down there alone!" Charlie suddenly spat, jabbing a finger in Nate's direction. "You're gonna get yourself killed."

"Calm down," Chloe urged, grabbing his hand and bringing it back to his side. "Charlie, I see what you're trying to do and it's admirable, but just stay here and I'll go with Nate! Really..."

Finally ceasing his rocking, Cutter drug a hand down his face and nodded, but remained looking down. "Fine. Go," he said simply.

Chloe cast a relieved glance at Nate and stood up, while Nate gave Charlie a good-natured slap on the back. "There ya go, champ- no shame in that," he said cheerfully. "We've all got our fears. For Sully it's the Pope."

"Yeah, well, for you it's clowns!" Sully pointed out.

"Ugh, don't remind me," Nate muttered as he walked back into the water with Chloe.

"The Pope?" Molly asked incredulously.

"Ahhh, more his hat then the man himself, but that might be splitting hairs..." Sully answered.

Nate and Chloe were about to go under when an sudden exclamation caused them to stop. "Oi!" Cutter called. They both turned and looked at him as he shook a finger in their direction. "Don't even think about not coming back for us when those gates open. Diving or no diving, I'm coming with you."

Chloe smiled at him. "We won't leave you, Charlie."

Chloe kept pace with Nate quite well on their way down, following him down the face of the gate to where the small bronze astrolabe was still lodged in the door. Reaching negative buoyancy just a few feet from the bottom, Nate and Chloe settled down onto the stone terrace and approached the gates.

In the dim light on the floor of the lake, Nate spared a glance at Chloe, who was studying the intricate lock arrangement with wonder. She met Nate's eyes and held both hands up to make a twisting motion. Nodding, Nate stepped forward and took hold of the protruding axis of the device and tried to rotate it first clockwise, then counter-clockwise, both to no avail. Damn it, Nate thought. He took a step backward and scanned the area surrounding the lock to see if he was missing something, but could see nothing of apparent use. His last idea was to try spinning the wheel of the astrolabe the other way. Grabbing onto the thick bronze band again, he gave it a heave, trying to move it on its own axis toward the ground. At first nothing happened, then it began to rotate ever so slowly, becoming more and more vertical in its orientation, until finally it became flush with the face of the door and flat with the other axis. There was a low, bassy thud that could be felt both through the water and through the stones under their feet, and Nate and Chloe shared a worried look as they backed away as quick as drag allowed them. The two gates began to open and the water in the pool started rushing through, sucking both Nate and Chloe forward.

Oh crap! Nate thought as he felt the pull increasing as the gap for the water to escape through got bigger. Hope whatever's on the other side of this isn't gonna kill us! 

The current swept him off his feet and tumbled him head over heels toward the now-open gate, smashing him into the edge of the stone door as it did. He grabbed onto it and held on as the roar of rushing water drowned out everything else, the flow holding him straight out horizontally like a flag in a gale. Nate sheltered his face from debris and the relentless surge of water by tucking his head down in his armpit and he clenched his fingers tighter on the stone, but his grip was failing. His stomach leaped into his throat as his fingers slipped off the algae-covered stone and Nate was swept through the gates, then immediately hit the ground as the last of the water drained out of the lake. Rolling several times from his momentum, he landed on his back in a puddle left behind in a small crater in the rock, staring up at a marble colonnade that soared twenty feet above him. He groaned and pushed himself up on one elbow to look for Chloe, and was relieved to see that she had managed to hold herself on the other gate and was also laying on the ground where the water had left her when it dissipated.

"We made it!" Nate said breathlessly.

Chuckling to herself, Chloe pulled herself up and swept her drenched bangs from her face, leaving a trail of grit instead. "I do believe we did, cowboy." She swaggered toward him and extended a hand to him to help him up. "Come on," she said. "Let's go let the others know what we found."

As they walked back through the open gates, Nate was struck by the enormity of the crater they found themselves in. Without the water in it the bowl felt vast, dwarfing both them and the stone structure they stood in. Nate gave a low whistle and was about to comment on it to Chloe, when he noticed the gate to their left  beginning to lean. In horror, he realized that the huge stone slab had broken off its hinges and was about to fall and crush them both.

"Chloe, look out!" he shouted, pushing her forward suddenly. They both staggered and fell as the ground shook, and when they opened their eyes they found themselves in a small triangle of space left under the bottom section of the stone door, which had broken in half when it fell against the side of the crater and then gotten wedged at an angle across the opening of the gates, not smashing them flat by only a narrow margin.

"Never a dull moment, huh?" Nate said as they both scrambled out from under the broken slab.

"I'll say."

"Hey! Everyone OK down there?" Sully's voice was distant as it echoed down to them from the top of the depression.

"Yeah!" Nate called back, cupping his hands around his mouth and craning his neck to see the three of them. "We're fine. Got the gate open, but it looks like you'll have to climb down now."

Sully grunted. "Fortunately for you, we've all done a bit of that before," his voice drifted back.

The sounds of scuffling could be heard as Sully, Charlie, and Molly started their descent, while Nate and Chloe entered a little ways into the colonnade again, climbing over the cracked pieces of the gate as they did. "Sooo, the Pope?" Chloe asked curiously as she played her flashlight beam along the columns. "I never knew that about Sully."

Nate scoffed. "You kidding? I made that up on the spot! As far as I know, Sully might not be afraid of anything."

Behind them Cutter dropped down, and then Sully. When Molly jumped a moment later, she slipped on a spot of algae and landed on her stomach in a puddle. "Oh, Christ," she complained as she stood up and pulled her now-soaked button down away from where it was plastered on her skin. "Why did I wear a white shirt to go looking for Atlantis?"

"Hey!" Nate called. "Look at this!" He pointed to a fallen column that had some words scrawled across it in what was either some kind of rust-colored paint or blood. Nate chose to believe it was the former. "It's in ancient Greek... says, 'What woes await him who seeks immortality from the Gods in this garden of evil and vice!'"

Chloe's flashlight lingered on the shattered marble and its foreboding message as the words hung ominously in the air. Finally, Sully spoke up. "Sounds welcoming."

"Lost cities never have been much on the warm hospitality," Cutter noted.

Chloe gave a look around at her comrades. "No turning back now, right?" she said, trying to stay upbeat.

"Especially with Tweedledum and Tweedledumber on our tails," Sully growled. "Right before we came down, Nate, we spotted some boats coming in on the horizon. Can't think of anyone else it would be besides Floki and Garnier."

Nate frowned. "We'd better keep moving, then."

As they walked past the end of the colonnade, they met a strange landscape of ruined buildings swallowed in undulating swells of cooled lava, in some places leaving very little space between the ground and the roof of the volcanic cavern. Their path was lit by Chloe and Cutter's flashlights, as well as Sully's trusty Zippo, as they carefully forged ahead into the bizarre wasteland. Ducking under a low-hanging ledge of igneous rock, Sully turned and looked at Molly. "Watch your head, darling." His eyes flicked up and down her body in the flickering firelight.

Molly, still conscious of her wet shirt, gave an ironic smile. "Mmm, thanks for the warning. And I thought chivalry was a thing of the past."

"Now you know for sure it is," Cutter quipped dryly, giving Sully an elbow to the ribs.

"Ow!" Sully cried, turning back around. "Geez, just tryin' to help..." 

Chapter Text

"This is really, reeeeeeally wild, Nate..." Chloe said softly as she panned her light over the formations of lava rock that surrounded them. "I mean- how does this even happen?"

The group of treasure hunters was wading through knee-deep water left behind from the sudden flood they had let through the gates and making their way deeper into the city. Nate hummed in response as he walked. "Well," he began thoughtfully. "When the outside of a lava flow cools really quickly, it can harden and insulate the lava beneath it and allow it to continue flowing. Then the molten lava on the inside empties out of the cooled lava and forms a tube." He looked around at their surroundings and considered the sheer size of the pocket between earth and rock in which they currently found themselves. "They're not normally this big though. There must've been some really colossal forces at work to make this."

"Colossal, as in- an earthquake, tidal wave, and an eruption together?" Cutter volunteered, meeting Nate's eye. "Remember what we were saying back at Xu Fu's barque, mate? I'm thinking this place got swallowed in lava and then deluged with water, and this is what turned up at the end."

Molly snorted, playing her pocket-sized flashlight across a particularly strange outcropping. "And to think this is all supposedly an act of the gods," she mused, her voice trailing off. "Seems a little excessive."

Sully chuckled darkly. "Maybe whatever was in here was just real hard to kill..."

As comments and speculation continued in dampened tones, Chloe clambered out of the deep puddle they were in and slowly turned a circle as she walked, moving her light up and down the walls of the cavern as she did. "Amazing," she breathed. The light traced along bizarre shapes along the ceiling and walls, and she stared at them with fascination.

Then it suddenly fell on the shape of a creature lunging at her from the rock wall.

She screamed and took a quick step back, but immediately tripped and fell. Ripping her gun from its holster as the other four whirled around to help her, Chloe kipped to her feet, holding both her light and her gun trained on the form before her.

In relief, as if frozen in place while emerging from the very face of the volcanic rock, was the shape of a stony face, with one arm reaching out, while the rest of the body remained hidden within the rock. Slight indentations where the eyes would have been stared out with an empty gaze, and a larger indent showed where the mouth had been, now open in an silent, eternal scream. "What the-" Chloe took another step back and flicked her flashlight down to the floor, only to see that the object she had tripped over was a similarly petrified hand reaching up from the floor, only visible down to just below the wrist. She sucked in a sharp, horrified breath and continued backing up. "Oh my god," she breathed.

The light from Sully's Zippo flickered on his face, casting eery shadows as he examined the figure. "Sweet Mother Theresa..."

"What the bloody hell?" Cutter growled, his eyes narrowing. "What is this?"

Nate swallowed, his eyes taking in the disturbing sight. "They got trapped in the lava."

"It's like a whole 'nother Pompeii," Sully said.

"Except creepier," Molly added.

Charlie scoffed. "It doesn't make any sense." He flashed his light around. "How did they get trapped like that? Did the poor bastards just stand there and let the lava harden?"

Nate shrugged. "I don't know." He continued staring for a moment before finally tearing his gaze from the unsettling sight. "Maybe we'll figure it out if we keep looking."

"Well, I don't know about you guys," Sully began, turning around to look further into the cavern at the bases of the buried buildings, "but this isn't exactly what I pictured when I thought of Atlantis. If this is all that's here, we might not be turning up much of anything."

"Maybe there's more to it than we can see?" Molly asked hopefully.

"But where, though?" Nate asked as he moved away from the petrified individual.

Cutter was silent, but, holding his flashlight in an underhanded grip, shifted the beam of light up and to the side with a slight movement of his wrist, his eyes following along with it. "Maybe we should check that portico over there."

Nate spun on his heel and looked where Cutter's light pooled dimly on a dilapidated structure made of a half a dozen marble columns with an ornate stone roof over it. The columns on one corner were crumbling, causing the roof to sink down at an angle on one side, which in turn had caused a large split up the end of the marble, and the whole structure was only just barely visible over a mound of igneous rock about twenty yards away. "Good eyes, Charlie. Let's, uh... check it out."

The group trekked over to the little structure and gathered at the mouth of a square opening cut into the ground below it. As every light source they had was turned to shine down into the shadows, a set of stairs paved with slabs of grey-blue stone was illuminated, sinking about fifteen feet into the earth before leveling off into a passageway.

Charlie looked over his shoulder at Chloe, who was leaning forward on her tip-toes to see over him. "Oi- this the fourth creepy staircase we've found on this adventure, or only the third?"

"At least there were no doors with trick levers to open on this one," Sully pointed out.

"...unless you count those huge-ass gates with the weird key back there," Chloe said dryly, nodding in the direction of the entrance to the city.

"Tough crowd," Sully said as they all started down the stairs. Five sets of footsteps echoed in the hallway as the treasure hunters ventured cautiously into the subterranean passage. The lights revealed that the slate-like paving slabs continued after the stairs, and the walls were made of square-cut stone blocks, with niches set into them every so often. As they rounded a corner in the hall, they passed a stone bowl in the corner, filled with some kind of liquid and sitting on a pedestal in front of a highly polished bronze disk on the wall.

"Hey, at least they made these tunnels pretty wide," Nate said in an attempt at optimism as he admired the handiwork of the Atlanteans.

"Eh, they could use a maintenance crew, though," Sully said as they stepped over a pile of debris where the wall had caved in a little.

"Maybe if we look around, we can find the city planning department and let them know," Chloe added wryly.

Cutter scoffed. "While we're at it, let's ask them if it would've killed 'em to put the whole city above ground, too."

"Judging from the way the city up top looked," Molly interjected as they turned another corner and began to descend again, "I think that, this time, it actually might have."

"Good point," Nate said.

Another twenty feet and the tunnel was completely full of water, forcing them to dive and swim through to the other side. They came out on an incline going up again, and at the top the hall broadened into a long room about fifteen feet wide, with a row of support columns down the middle and multiple doors in either wall, as well as one on the end. As the five adventurers took a moment to gaze in awe at the architecture,  Cutter's flashlight flickered a couple times. He smacked the head of it with the heel of his hand and the light came back on, but it was clearly beginning to dim.

"Damn it," he cursed. "Bloody thing's startin' to die."

"Oh, lovely," Chloe said, sarcasm thick in her tone. "Maybe we can all get stuck down here with no light. That would be about par for the course on these things."

Molly wandered over to a bowl like the one they had passed earlier, this one sitting on a stand in the middle of the room and also filled with liquid. Looking up, she noticed more of the of the polished bronze disks spaced around the perimeter of the room. "Hey, guys? I think this might be worth checking out."

Nate peered over at her find. "Yeah, I saw one of those earlier. What do you think is in it?"

"Probably just water," Chloe speculated as she came over along with the others. "Clearly whatever natural disasters have happened to this place left it with a lot of residual standing water and a major drainage problem."

Sully shrugged and nodded. "Could be a chamber pot."

Nate's brow furrowed and he looked up at the older man incredulously. "A- chamber pot?"

Sully gave another nonchalant shrug. "Just sayin'. You never know."

One eyebrow raised in disbelief, and Nate retorted, "You think they, like, jumped or something?"

"I mean, maybe they just-"

"Children, children!" Charlie cut in, holding up his hands to quell their bickering. "As absolutely riveting- and mature- as this conversation is, I think it's actually some kind of fuel in that thing. You know, like it was meant to be lit?" He leaned forward and gave a tentative sniff. "Smell it."

Now it was Sully's turn to wrinkle his brow. "I'll take your word for it. I am not smelling what's in that bowl."

Nate scoffed and rolled his eyes. "Just give us a light, yeah?"

Sully held his Zippo out at arm's length and attempted to hold it to the substance in the bowl. When the flame came within a couple inches of the liquid, a huge flame suddenly shot up with a whoosh, causing him to jump backward. "Jesus Christ!" he exclaimed, looking from his forearm to the flame that now reached all the way to the ceiling. "I think I just burned all the hair off my arm!"

"It could only be an improvement," Cutter muttered.

Nate stepped back to get a better view around the columns in order to see the whole room. "That's incredible!" he said, looking around the now well-lit space. "Those bronze panels are mirrors that are positioned to reflect the light! The way they're placed in the tunnels must make it to where you can illuminate long stretches of the halls with a single fire!"

"Sooo," Chloe drawled. "No getting caught in the dark after all?"

Nate grinned. "Looks like we're safe... at least for now."

"Lovely," Cutter said, impatient to keep moving. "Now which way do you figure we should go from here?"

"I vote for the door on the end," Molly said.

"Cheap guess," Chloe sniffed.

Molly shot a glare at her. "Anything better to offer, Frazer?"

Chloe shrugged. "Not particularly, no."

They made their way through the door and down the tunnel and lit the bowl they found at the corner, brightly illuminating the hallway ahead. As Nate expected, another bronze mirror carefully positioned at the next bend kept the light going even past the turn of the hall. Another small cave-in partially blocked the way just around the bend, and as they climbed over the rubble, Sully spoke up. "Say... How do we know this whole joint's not gonna come crashing down on us at any moment?"

"Yeah," Cutter seconded the sentiment. "If I'm going to die down here, I'd at least like to be immortalized in lava relief."

"Me too," Sully agreed. "Then my charming and ruggedly handsome features could be preserved for posterity."

"Oh yeah, I can see it now," Nate quipped. "A giant stone mustache sticking out of the wall!"

From the back of the group, Chloe's voice drifted to them. "Ugh, now I'll definitely be having nightmares tonight."

Sully sighed as he hopped off the pile of debris. "Always with the facial hair grief."

Soon, they had ventured far enough that the light from the last fire was growing dim. "Alright," Nate said. "There should be another of those bowls coming up soon." They turned a corner and immediately saw the pedestal broken down and the stone vessel smashed on the floor nearby. "Oh. I guess that's a bust." He turned and looked at the others. "Looks like we'll need any flashlights we still have till we make it to the next one."

Chloe and Molly's flashlights flicked on, illuminating another door about twenty feet ahead. As the group of treasure hunters walked through it, the two women shined their lights around, revealing a room with a high ceiling and a grid of evenly spaced columns standing like a forest of stone trees. As Molly looked on in wonder, her light fell on a large statue of Poseidon standing in an alcove with an arched top set into the wall. "Whoa!" she said, letting the light linger on the sculpture. The columns between her and the Olympian cast shadows across the god's stern features. "Look at this!"

"There's another over here," Chloe said, her light shining on the opposite wall. "Looks like Zeus on this side." She moved down the wall and found a third alcove holding a figure with a three-headed dog. "...Hades."

"Athena?" Molly said, having found a fourth, female statue in the other corner of the room. "Maybe Demeter..."

In the quick glimpses Chloe and Molly's lights had given him as they flashed around the room, Nate had spotted a bowl and pedestal in the center of the room, as well as multiple strategically placed mirrors around the perimeter. "Hey, Chloe," he called. "Shine your light over here a minute?" Sully was standing next to him, and Nate casually grabbed the lighter out of his hand without asking.

"Hey!" Sully protested.

"I'm just borrowing it," Nate assured him, and began walking toward the pedestal with Chloe shining her flashlight for him. Just before he reached it, a faint, almost metallic sound made him pause. "Did you hear something?" he asked, his brows knitting together. 

"Nothin'" Sully replied.

Nate glanced quickly around and hummed uncertainly. Not seeing anything in the prevailing darkness, he kept walking and reached the bowl, then opened Sully's Zippo with a snap. He flicked the striker several times, but it stubbornly refused to catch the wick. "Hey, I think your lighter's out of fluid!" he called.

"Nah," Sully said dismissively. "I just filled it before we left the jeep. Sometimes it just needs a couple tries."

As Nate continued to fiddle with the Zippo, Chloe moved her light to the ceiling to admire the ornately carved capitals over the columns, leaving him in darkness as a result. "C'mooonn," he breathed in annoyance as spark after spark leaped up from the flint but never caught a flame. Finally the wick caught, at the same time as he felt a hand on his shoulder and heard a strange noise like heavy breathing behind him. A chill ran down his spine and he froze on his way to lighting the bowl. "Chloe?" he asked apprehensively. "Is that you?"

"Is what me?" Chloe asked. Nate gulped as he realized her voice was too far away for her to be within reaching distance of him. Her light dropped back down to shine on him, and she screamed suddenly, "NATE, LOOK OUT!"

Nate turned to see an armored man carrying a bronze shield and a sword that was raised high in his right hand. "Oh, CRAP!" he squeaked, then dropped and rolled just as the sword cut through the air where he had just been standing. It struck the side of a column with a crash, then the man used his shield to deliver a vicious backhand to Nate as he was coming up out of his roll. Nate flew backward, the lighter flying out of his hand, and he skidded across the floor until he smashed into the base of a column.

"Ugh," he groaned, shoving himself up on one elbow. "This just might be the trip that finally convinces me I need to see a chiropractor."

The scene in the statue room became immediately frenetic: flashlight beams dipped and bobbed with frantic motions, animal-like snarls and crashes of metal against stone rang out and echoed around the four walls, and a confused jumble of curses and shouted warnings came from Nate's four companions, all bearing witness to a fight that was otherwise unseen as it was waged in near-blackness. Every now and then, Chloe or Molly's lights would catch a flash of the armored man; these brief sightings were invariably followed by shouted profanities and the sounds of a scuffle. After seeing the strange soldier in Molly's light, Nate lunged forward to join the fray, only to be immediately knocked down again by another figure to his right. He landed painfully on his back, and a moment later he saw the flash of bronze and felt the weight of a person landing on top of him. "Shit, there's another one!" he shouted. As the new arrival let out a guttural snarl and raised his weapon, Nate slid his Para-9 out of his holster and fired twice into the man's abdomen, causing him to fly backward.

"Oh, you've gotta be kiddin' me!" Sully roared from somewhere else in the room.

"We've got to get the lights on in here," Molly cried breathlessly, "before we all end up shooting each other."

Nate pulled himself to his feet again and rested his hand against the smooth stone of a column. In the erratic glimpses the dancing flashlights afforded, he spied a brief flash of tarnished brass from Sully's Zippo laying on the floor before it was once more lost to shadow. Gotta get that lighter! he thought. He took two running steps and then dropped into a baseball slide, his tan denim pants scraping on the rough stone, and extended his arm to the side to sweep as big a swath across the floor as possible. He felt the small, square object catch in the crook of his arm and quickly snatched it up with the opposite hand, then shoved himself off the floor again. He stumbled as he transitioned from his slide back into a run but quickly cleared the short distance to the pedestal, praying that the Zippo would be more merciful this time. Once more there was the old, familiar clack of the lighter's case opening, then Nate's thumb struck the wheel and a flame sprung up. Immediately he put it to the contents of the bowl and was rewarded with a huge fire leaping up to the ceiling, filling the room with light by way of the bronze mirrors.

"That's it, kid!" Sully shouted encouragement.

Nate whirled around to see Cutter, Chloe, and Molly all dodging the attacks of the first warrior as he pursued them across the room. He took a step toward them to help, but the point of a spear suddenly emerged from behind the column to his left and thrust across his path, coming within an inch of running him through. He reigned himself in and, without missing a beat, wrapped his arms around the shaft of the spear and pulled back on it, using the column to his advantage to leverage the weapon out of his attacker's grasp. Rushing forward, Nate was shocked to see it was the same soldier he had just shot. "How the hell is this guy still alive?" he shouted as he used his newly acquired doru to beat him over the head. The soldier fell backward, losing his helmet in the process, and Nate froze once more as he gawked at the face he saw beneath it. With ashen, grey skin that peeled and flaked off, deformed features, and large patches of hair gone from his head, the soldier was hideous, even a little horrifying. The man snarled up at him, and Nate saw that many of his teeth were also missing.

"What in the-?" Nate didn't get more time to think or form words, as the warrior lunged at him again with a sword this time. He dodged the attack, then pulled out his gun again and shot several more bullets into the man, only to have him scamper away wounded but obviously far from dead. Behind him the sounds of the other skirmish continued, and Nate looked back just in time to see Cutter land a solid straight kick to the center of the other soldier's bronze breastplate, pushing him back several steps. Before the warrior had time to recover, Charlie pulled out his gun and proceeded to empty the entire clip into the narrow slit in the man's bronze helmet, and the man fell to the ground.

"Stay down!" Cutter commanded, his eyes narrowed grimly. A moment later, the Englishman's expression changed to some mixture of wonder and horror as the fallen soldier peeled himself off the floor and, with a final look a the five treasure hunters, scurried after his partner through the opposite door.

"What in the goddamn hell?" Sully said slowly as he stared after the two figures.   

"It's like- it's like they can't die!" Chloe exclaimed, equally shocked.

Cutter clenched his teeth until his jaw muscles stood out, then swallowed and looked over at Nate. "Nate?" he said in a low voice. "What do you think those things were?"

Nate drew a deep breath, then stooped and picked up the fallen helmet, examining it's distinctive design. "Look. It's a Corinthian helmet," he said, tossing the item to Charlie.

Cutter looked it over, then lifted his eyes back to Nate's. "So they're the descendants of the League?"

"Orrrr," Molly interjected, "they're the originals." She glanced around at her partners' quizzical looks. "Don't forget we're looking for an artifact that supposedly grants eternal life."

Nate's eyebrows shot up at that, and he frowned and looked away.

"I just don't get it," Sully said. "Why'd they run off? Seems like they could've taken us. It's almost like they were scouting us out or something."

"...which means there's more of them still to come," Chloe added.

Cutter scoffed. "There's a thought to brighten up the day."

Nate continued staring down and to the side, deep in thought as the others continued talking, until finally he was pulled out of his musings by Sully speaking to him. "Nate. What are you thinking kid, you've got that 'look'."

Nate's head snapped up. "Huh?" He made a face and tried to brush it off, "Psh, what 'look', Sully?"

Sully shook his head and put his hands on his hips. "You know what I'm talkin' about kid, don't give me that. You're thinking something."

"'The Look'," Cutter joined in. "You know, that real brooding, intellectual, Auguste Rodin's 'Thinker' kind of look." He waggled his fingers in the air as he spoke. "It's a certified trademark of yours by now, I think."

Nate looked scornfully at Charlie, feeling betrayed. "Alright, fine," he sighed. "I was just thinking that if those things can't die, that really explains the catastrophe that happened to Atlantis." Looking around at the puzzled looks he was getting from his comrades, Nate continued. "Just think: suddenly you have this whole group of people on your hands that can't die, which means there's really no way to keep their society in check. You can't kill them, you can't punish them, and all that's left is to smother them." His eyes burned with realization and urgency as he continued. "So the 'gods' send an earthquake to sink the city, then a volcanic eruption to cover it in lava, and then a flood to cool and harden the lava before any of them can claw their way out and escape anyways. Once the city was sealed in like that, the problem was solved, at least until Xu Fu's crew came along. Then they maybe excavated it a little, found the stone, and then the whole thing happened again."

"Waitwaitwait," Chloe held up a hand and stepped forward. "So you're saying- those guys back there we saw just inside the gates- aren't really..." she faltered. Nate raised an eyebrow, daring her to finish the thought, and her face fell. "Oh, god, I think I'm going to be sick."

"So the gods," Sully began, waving a hand, "covered up this city of immortals to protect the world from them, and now we came traipsing along and just opened it wide up, right?"

Nate swallowed. "Yeah. Pretty much."

Cutter looked between Nate and Sully and again set his jaw in determination. "We've gotta keep going. We need to find a way to stop this from getting out."

"Yeah, we do," Nate agreed. "Maybe if we find the Philosopher's Stone we can figure out a way to reverse the affects, or destroy it, or something."

"Not to mention keep the Mad Scientist and the Viking away from it," Sully added grimly.

Nate side-eyed him. "That too." Looking around at the others, Nate said, "It's going to be dangerous, though. Probably really dangerous."

Looks were shared between all present, then Molly smiled ruefully at him and said, "When has it ever not been?"

Nate stared back at each of his friends in turn, taking in their determined faces, and he gave a small laugh in spite of himself. "Alright. Let's go."

Chapter Text

The shadows were suffocating, looming thick with sinister intent as the five treasure hunters ventured deeper into the underground complex below Atlantis. An omnipresent sense of foreboding hung heavily in the air; every pool of darkness taunted them with the hint of concealed peril, and every unexpected noise teased the baleful appearance of the strange guardians encountered earlier. As another pedestal ignited and flooded the tunnel with light, Nate thought he saw something dart across the tunnel up ahead and immediately raised his gun to fire. A rat scurried away into the shadows.

Nate exhaled slowly and lowered his weapon. "It, uh," he swallowed. "It wasn't what I thought it was."

Cutter chuckled and patted him on the shoulder. "Good one, mate."

Sully sighed and rubbed the bridge of his nose as they started moving again. "Sheesh. Those guardian things have me feeling as jumpy as a Russian girl in a room full of Rasputins."

A beat passed in silence. "Wow," was all that Nate said.

"You always did know how to lighten the mood with a well-placed dirty joke, Sullivan," Molly said dryly.

"I'd chalk that up less to his social skills and more to his general state of mind," Chloe snarked.

"Hey!" said Sully defensively.

"Mate, you do know that whole thing with the Czarina was all propaganda, right?" Cutter said, ever ready to lecture on historical inaccuracies.

A few minutes passed more easily in the wake of the light-hearted exchange as they continued to descend further. Coming around a corner, they were met with a huge opening in the wall of the tunnel, like a massive arched window, the low edge of which came almost to the floor, and they peered through it. Nate was surprised to see a square shaft that reached multiple stories above and below them, with numerous other openings along its four walls on different levels. "Whoa!" he said, squinting as he leaned out of the window and craned his neck to look up. He saw patches of light shining through cracks in the stone far above. "It's a ventilation shaft," he said. "Must have gotten covered over during the volcanic eruption."

Chloe leaned out the window as well and flicked her flashlight on, shining it downward. Shimmering ripples of light reflected back at them. "Is that water down there?" she asked.

"Yeah," Nate said. "Looks like it."

Echoes of something like footsteps drifted up to them from one of the openings across from them and down a level, followed by the distant sounds of voices, and then the tunnel in question was suddenly illuminated with the flickering light from the mysterious bowls of fuel. "Someone's comin'!" Sully whisper-shouted.

"Must be Floki and Garnier," Molly hissed back.

The five treasure hunters plastered themselves to the wall out of sight on either side of the window, but Nate ventured to peek around as the voices came nearer and more distinct. Finally Garnier strutted arrogantly into sight, followed by Floki and a handful of goons, the two in the lead carrying some sort of wooden skid between them that had several small crates stacked on top. The goon at the front of the skid stumbled, nearly dropping it except that the one at the other end quickly lowered the pallet to compensate.

"Hlandbrenndu!" The latter thug berated the man who had stumbled. "Watch your step, you idiot, your going to get us all blown to bits!"

Nate chuckled softly and looked and looked at Molly standing beside him. "I don't know what that guy just said, but it did not sound very nice."

"Mmm. My knowledge of Icelandic is spotty," she whispered back, "but I think it was to the effect of 'may it burn when you pee'."

"Huh. that happened to me a couple weeks ago," Sully mumbled on the other side of her.

"The hell with it!" the stumbling goon growled back, setting his end of the skid down on the floor. "We've lugged this damn thing all the way here from the boat, and it's about time we got a break-"

"Silence!" Garnier commanded. He pointed in the direction of the window Nate and the others were looking out of. "There's fires lit," the slight Frenchman said in a lower tone. "Drake and the others are somewhere close. We must be cautious."

Floki looked where Garnier pointed, and Nate could almost see the veins bulging around his scarred eye as he glared across the dark void toward them. He shot a disdainful glance at his French partner, then stepped forward, shaking his fist as he screamed, "Drake! If you can hear me, Drake, know that when I find you, I will kill you- nice and slow- right in front of your worthless friends. You'll pay for everything you've done!"

The seething redhead lowered his fist, his chest still visibly heaving with rage, and spun on his heel to face his men. He opened his mouth to give an order, but was interrupted by Garnier, who asked in irritation, "Are you finished giving away our position with all of your mad rantings?"

Slowly, threateningly, Floki turned and faced his slight partner. "'Mad rantings'?" he repeated in a voice low enough that it just barely carried over to Nate and the others. "Is that what you call my words?" he asked, stepping closer to the Frenchman. "It comes to me to wonder if you're really just jealous. Jealous that you don't have the ability to back up your words with anything." He swatted lightly at Garnier's arm, where the rolled-up sleeves of his white button-down clinging to his damp skin revealed his rather unimpressive musculature beneath. "You're like Napoleon, but not as good at what you do. A sad, little man who tries to make up for his lack of strength with empty talk and fancy suits." He sneered down at him with contempt. "You, my friend, are pathetic."

Garnier glared back at him with fire in his eyes. "At least I'm not a brainless thug with the education of a five-year-old whose only route to success is strong-arming his way into everything," he ground out through gritted teeth. With a mirthless chuckle, he added, "That eye of yours- you probably did it yourself to make yourself look scari-"

His attempt at a dressing-down was cut short as Floki slammed his massive fist cruelly into his vulnerable stomach. The small Frenchman doubled over with a choking sound, and then was immediately shoved against the wall with Floki's bulging forearm across his neck. In a desperate defense maneuver, Garnier sank his teeth into the burly Icelander's bicep, drawing a shriek out of him for his efforts, and when Floki pulled away Nate could see blood streaming down his arm. In an instant three of the revolutionaries had pulled their guns on Garnier and pinned him down against the wall, while a fourth positioned himself in his commander's path as Floki stalked toward the Frenchman with vengeance written on his face.

"Move, you bastard!" Floki roared at his subordinate.

"Sir!" the man said before he was roughly pushed out of the way. "Sir!" he shouted, again forcing himself in between his leader and his quarry. "Is this really the time to be killing each other? We're so close to our goal- what if there's something between here and there we need the man's help with?" The man looked at Floki imploringly. "Please sir, once we get to the treasure we can all go our separate ways, and neither of you will have to see each other ever again!"

Floki, still seething with anger, regarded the man silently for a moment, then sharply gave a command in Icelandic. The three men with their guns trained on Garnier lowered them, and Floki turned to the French scientist with venom. "You had best hope, monsieur, that the next time you do something stupid like that my men are still around to save you, and that I'm feeling as generous as I am right now to let you live!" Looking to his men, the beefy commander added, "We've carried the explosives far enough. Leave them here. Something tells me we won't need them."

As Floki stormed off and his goons shuffled after him leaving the skid of explosives behind, Garnier hung back for a few moments and stared with hatred after them. Finally, the Frenchman also began walking, and soon there was no sign of the drama that had just taken place other than the abandoned crates on the floor.

"Wow," Chloe said, daring to raise her voice a little now that they were gone. "I never thought I'd say this, but good job to that one poor henchman who stood up to Floki like that. That took some real balls."

"Yeah," Nate said softly, still looking across at the now empty window. "Something tells me Garnier's going to keep pushing his luck though, and it's probably not going to turn out real pretty."

"Well, the guy's not the brightest bulb on the porch, despite what he might think," Sully said grimly.

A short time later the group of treasure hunters came upon a round, stone door that had been rolled most of the way closed, nearly blocking the tunnel."Ah, crap," Nate said, looking around. "Now what?" He began running his hands over the door and the surrounding wall, looking for some way to open it. "These doors look like they're made to keep out intruders. The lever must be on the inside, so the Atlanteans could lock themselves in in case of an invasion."

"Look," Chloe said, pointing to where a rock had gotten wedged under the ponderous disk, holding it back from entirely closing and leaving a small space at the bottom corner of the tunnel. "Someone really small could probably fit through that."

Four sets of eyes immediately turned to look at Molly, who stared back questioningly. "What? Why are you all looking at me?"

"Because, sweetheart," Chloe said, "you're the smallest one here."

"Me?" Molly asked, pointing at herself. "Why not you?"

"Well, darling," Chloe said patiently, "you have a smaller-" she leaned to one side and looked over Molly's shoulder, "...you know."

Molly looked skeptically at her. "Fiiine." She got down and slowly wriggled through the opening, grunting as she scraped between the rock wedged in the door and the stone floor tiles. "I hope you all... appreciate... this," she muttered, her words punctuated with the effort of maneuvering through the small gap. Her feet disappeared on the other side of the door, and they could hear her exhale with relief as she stood up. "Made it!" 

"Great!" Nate called, standing close to the door. "Do you see any way to open this?"

Silence came in return. Finally, after an agonizing minute, Molly's voice drifted back, tinged with awe. "Hoooly... You guys should see this! It's incredible!"

Nate ironically shrugged his shoulders and nodded. "We, uh- we'd love to see it, Molly. Just, you know, need this big stone door open... whenever you get around to it."

"Yeah. No rush or anything," Chloe added sarcastically, folding her arms over her chest.

They heard a scuffle and a muttered, "Oh shit!", then there was a mechanical noise and the door rolled aside to reveal a sheepish looking Molly with her hand pushing a bronze button on the wall. "Sorry about that. I... got a little carried away."

But Nate barely heard her as his gaze moved through the door and he saw the vague silhouette of something big, something grand, and something incredible. "Sully, give us a light!" he said urgently, his eyes wide as he pointed towards a couple of pedestals a short distance away. Sully obliged without a word, seeming to also sense the historical gravity of what lay half-hidden in the murky darkness ahead, just waiting to be revealed when he touched his lighter to the fuel. The two bowls went ablaze with a hiss, sending up pillars of sparks and spitting, writhing flames that snaked upward, reaching heights of nearly twenty feet to reveal a rough-hewed ceiling rising yet another ten feet above that. In the primitive, elemental glow coming off the blaze, a stone bridge with low sides came into view, spanning a wide canal just beyond the pedestals. The canal flowed through a channel that entered and exited the chamber through the fanged, gaping mouths of enormous roaring dragon heads, one carved into the stone about fifty feet to their right, the other about fifty feet to their left. At the far end of the bridge were stone sphinxes laying one on each side of the path, and immediately beyond them was a colonnade that ran the length of the chamber, supporting a second-story arcade above it. Still obscured in the semi-darkness, Nate could also make out a large doorway in the shadow of the colonnade beyond the bridge.  

"Who-oa!" Nate exclaimed. "This is amazing!"

"That could be the understatement of the year," Sully said.

Chloe shook her head with wonder. "This feels... old, Nate. Like, really old. Even older than the rest of this place."

"Yeah, look at those columns," Charlie said, pointing at the colonnade. "That detail- it's not Greek, it's more Egyptian in style."

"It could be," Molly said. "According to Plato's dialogues, the first records of Atlantis came from the Egyptians, translated by Solon."

"Look at this," Sully said. He was turned around and facing the wall, pointing up at rows upon rows of writing carved into its surface that stretched as far as they could see in both directions. "This place is like a friggin' Rosetta Stone. There's Chinese, Greek, Egyptian hieroglyphics, and... some other language I don't recognize."

Nate studied the strange writing Sully was referring to, but he also couldn't discern what language it was. "It's almost like it takes elements of all the other forms of writing and combines them," he said. Looking to his right and left in awe, Nate continued, "It's like, over time, Atlantis became a hub- a reservoir of the knowledge and practices some of the most powerful civilizations of the ancient world! As each one discovered the city, they all left their mark on it, contributing to Atlantis' technology and understanding." Gesturing to the sprawling lines of script, he said, "If this could all be translated... who knows what kind of secrets we'd uncover!"

After a moment of silence as the weight of their discovery sank in, Chloe gently placed a hand on his shoulder. "Nate," she said softly. "We'd better keep going."

Reluctantly, Nate tore his eyes away from the lines of script and looked her in the eye. "Yeah, I guess you're right."

The small group crossed the bridge, lighting another two pedestals on the other side near the sphinxes, then approached the imposing set of double doors beyond. They were made of thick cedar planking bound at the edges with bronze and overlaid with gold, and around the awe-inspiring entryway the air seemed charged with anticipation, wonder, and the uncertainty of the ancient mysteries that lay beyond. "Sacred geometry," Nate said, pointing out the pattern of interlaced, gilded circles that graced the heavy timbers. "Common both in ancient Greek and Egyptian architecture." He looked at his friends with anticipation. "I've got a feeling that this is it. Are we all ready to find out what's behind door number one?"

Charlie grinned at him. "Ladies first."

Placing one hand on each door, Nate leaned into them and pushed inward, the ancient timbers groaning on timeless iron hinges as they moved. Stepping forward with resolute strides and squared shoulders, the five fortune hunters walked through the age-old portal and were once again brought to an awed standstill at the scene that now faced them.

If the previous chamber had been big, this room was immense, with the main area of the room set down several feet from a raised walkway around the perimeter, shallow stone stairs that ran between them, and numerous doors along the walls. The recessed center of the room was dominated by stone statues, six of which were fruit trees formed from white marble, full-sized, and in arranged in two rows of three, their limbs heavy with apples cast in solid gold. The rows of the "orchard" branched out from a jewel-encrusted shrine that dominated the wall adjacent to the one where the five adventurers stood, which shone floor to ceiling with sapphires as blue as the sea, rubies as red as blood, and gold as brilliant as the sun. Set into the wall in carefully laid patterns, the precious stones alternately formed ornate designs of sacred geometric symbols, or else appeared alongside images of fearsome, mythical creatures. At the bottom of this opulent display was a statue of a twisting, writhing dragon whose eyes stared challengingly between the two lines of trees. A silver orb about the size of a grapefruit was held in the creature's fangs, while water flowed around the strange sphere and poured out of its mouth into a semi-circular pool in front of it.

Normally, any one of these things would have held Nate's rapt attention, but he found his gaze being drawn to the figure in the center of the two lines of trees, that, in sheer size and gravitas, overshadowed everything else in the room. Nate's eyes settled on the familiar form of Atlas, the world-bearing Titan, kneeling down on one knee and hunched under the burden of an enormous, spherical, bronze astrolabe-identical to the smaller version they had used to open the gates of the city- which rested on his pale marble shoulders. The sight hearkened back to the little statue in the alcove at Delphi, that now seemed like an eternity ago when this adventure was starting and Nate had yet to put the last nail in the coffin of his and Elena's marriage. Nate's eyes glazed over and his stare became distant as he remembered how far he had then felt from the dire straits he now found himself in. Swallowing heavily, he closed his eyes for a moment and tried to banish the images of that day he had so enjoyed spending with his wife, blissfully ignorant of the storm brewing on the metaphorical horizon.

There was two things different about this Atlas from the small one in Delphi, Nate noted. First, this statue had to have been every bit of thirty feet tall, fifty if you included the sphere on top; and second, instead of the tortured, forlorn cry of anguish he had worn there by the Oracle, this time the Titan had an unflinching resolve in his stony eyes, and a square jaw that was clenched in determination. Maybe Atlas was finally reconciled to his awful task, he mused.

"Wow. I could get used to this..." Sully drawled.

Nate suddenly realized that the others had already gone down the steps and were wandering among the man-made orchard, getting closer to the shimmering shrine by the pool. Shaking his head as his focus snapped back to the present, he trotted down the stairs behind them and walked between two of the fruit trees, running his hand over the cool, smooth marble as he did. "Do you have any idea how much money is down here, mates?" Charlie was saying as he cradled one of the golden apples in hand and examined his reflection in its surface. 

"We could all be set for life!" Sully answered enthusiastically.

"And then some," Chloe added casually.

Molly turned and looked, pointing at the two lines of trees. "Nate, are you getting this? This is-"

"Hera's garden," Nate said, finishing the thought. "The golden apples- the serpent Ladon," he added, pointing to the shrine. He nodded as his eyes continued to roam, and added thoughtfully, "Or, if you'd like, the garden of Eden, and that's the serpent that deceives."

"So where's the forbidden fruit?" Sully asked off-handedly.

Immediately, Nate's gaze flicked back to the dragon. "There-" he said, pointing at the orb in its mouth.

Chloe reached the shrine and leaned on the short wall surrounding the pool as she studied the statue. "Nate, do you know what that is?"

"The Philosopher's Stone," Cutter volunteered as he joined her at the pool's edge. Chloe met eyes with him.

"The one and only!" she said with excitement.

Nate and the others had also come to stand by them by this point, and Molly tentatively dipped the ends of her fingers into the water but immediately drew them back. "Brr!" she said. "That's ice cold! It must be spring fed."

"Mmm, maybe I'll take a dip in it here in a second," Sully said sarcastically. "It's so hot in here I'm breakin' a goddamn sweat just standing still!"

"Yeah, what's the deal with that?" Chloe asked. "Shouldn't it be a lot cooler this far underground?"

Cutter looked up and over Chloe's hunched form, then nodded his head toward something across the room. "That's the deal with it," he said. Every one of them turned and looked at the opposite wall, where lines of glowing red magma oozed from small cracks in the stone. "This whole thing must be literally right next to a magma chamber."

An ominous hush fell over the group as the stood mesmerized by the cherry-red liquid rock seeping through the fissures in the rock wall before dropping to the ground into piles of cooling basalt. Sully broke the silence with a heavy sigh. "Shoulda known something like that would be the case." He turned and put his hands on his hips while he examined some of the treasures laying on stone shelves near the pool. "I'm just gonna start filling my pockets now, knowing that sooner or later this whole place is probably gonna go up..."

The pieces were suddenly falling in place in Nate's mind. Looking from the blisteringly hot magma to the pool behind him, he quickly dipped his hand into the water, watching as the crystal-clear liquid drained from his skin. Molly was right- the water was frigid. "Mercury!" he declared, pointing at the silvery, gleaming orb in the dragon's mouth. "Quicksilver. Becomes liquid at room temperature. The only thing keeping it from being a puddle on the floor is all that cold water flowing over it. And I'll bet," he said, looking meaningfully at his comrades, "that mercury poisoning is responsible for making the soldiers the way they are. Remember that drawing on Xu Fu's ship? The water coming off the stone may grant eternal life, but it's not without a price. It's a tainted elixir!"

A sudden clamor behind them made the treasure hunters turn. "Ah boy. Here come the Marx brothers," Sully muttered.

Floki and his remaining handful of thugs stormed into the room through one of the other doors, their guns poised and ready to kill, while Garnier hung back at the rear of the group, his eyes shining, undimmed by his earlier scuffle with Floki. "Move away from the stone, if you know what's good for you!" the Frenchman commanded. "Unless you want your heads blown off your shoulders..."

"Bold words for a couple guys who have only been miserable failures so far," Chloe commented, but stepped back with the others regardless.

"Shut it!" Floki snarled, pointing his pistol at her face. "My patience is wearing as thin as my dead father's hairline, so I would suggest you don't try me."

Nate looked at him baffled. "Has anyone ever told you that you come up with the weirdest analogies?"

While the five adventurers stood with their hands raised at gunpoint, Garnier stepped forward and gazed longingly at the pool of transparent water in front of the dragon statue. When he spoke, his voice was slow and careful, weighing each word before it left his mouth. "Two opposing forces meet again... for a final conflict... at the waters of eternal life." He looked at Nate with a smile, obviously pleased at the thought. "There's something poetic about it, don't you agree?"

"Yeah," Nate scoffed. "When you put it like that, it's almost a haiku. I'll be sure to write it down later."

Garnier chuckled and rubbed his hands together, stepping closer to them. "A haiku? No, no. I was thinking more like an epic tragedy- the type of thing that really belongs in the Iliad. 'The self-deluding hero makes it to the very cusp of achieving his mission, only to die on glory's doorstep.'" With a sneer, the Frenchman added, "A pity, really. No, there will be no 'later' for you, or your friends, Mr. Drake. This is where your story ends." Speaking to Floki with an air of authority that would have seemed more fitting if he had not almost been killed by the man only a short time before, Garnier barked, "Eliminate them! All of them. The treasure is at hand!"

Floki stepped forward to carry out the order, but as he grinned at the group of treasure hunters, Nate could see lurking in his eyes the chill of the animosity he felt toward the scientist. "Time to deal with the pests!" Floki said in a gleeful growl. Despite the gun the Icelander was pointing in his face, Nate did not miss the subtle motion of Floki's other hand moving to undo the buckle on a knife that hung at his belt. "All of them," he added pointedly.

With a flash of cold steel that shimmered in the flickering firelight, the burly revolutionary whirled around and plunged the blade directly into Garnier's stomach. The scientist gasped and lurched forward, only for Floki to catch him on his shoulder, supporting his weight as he sunk the weapon deeper. With his face now mere inches from Garnier's, Floki spoke in a venomously low tone. "You really should have seen that coming, Mathis. It's what I should have done back in Reykjavik. All you've done this whole time is get in my way with your empty boasting and your sniveling attempts at leadership." Garnier grunted in pain and coughed up blood as Floki suddenly jerked up on the knife, and the motion caused a lock of the scientist's hair to fall over his horrified eyes. "If only you had come to me first instead of Drake, maybe we could have gotten along. Maybe. But as it is, you're just a pitiful little dick, always led by your need to seem bigger than you are, with just enough strength to make it almost, but not quite, to the finish line." He smiled devilishly at the smaller man that was leaning against him. "Must be why you've never landed yourself a woman." With a final twist of the knife that elicited another strangled groan from Garnier, Floki retracted the weapon and shoved the man backward. Garnier took a few staggering steps as he tried to keep his balance, his face blanched with pain and shock, and then Floki casually raised his foot and kicked the good doctor, sending him crumpling to the floor against the low wall that encircled the pool.

Floki turned back to face the party of treasure hunters. "Ahhhh!" he breathed in relief and fluttered his arms out to the sides, miming the effect of stress leaving his body. "I feel better, don't you?" he asked, grinning sadistically at Nate while still holding the blood-stained knife in one hand and his pistol in the other. Nate shifted uncomfortably as he looked at the fallen scientist over in the corner, still struggling in the throes of death. "He thinks this is a tragedy?" the burly redhead roared, throwing his arms up dramatically. "I think it's a comedy! It's freaking hilarious that any of you fools think you could have beaten me! Just look!" Without warning, Floki shot the nearest goon in the head, and the man sagged lifelessly to the ground. "I don't need any of you! Not a single one!" he crowed.

Cutter glanced around at the remaining thugs who, hearing Floki's lunatic ravings, were losing their focus on keeping their guns trained on the group of treasure hunters, and instead were warily shifting away from their leader. "You're bloody insane, mate!" he accused, glaring at the brute in front of him. 

"Oh, no no no!" Floki corrected with a grin. "You want to see insane?" He leveled his gun at the Englishman. "Try this!"

"Charlie!" Chloe screamed.

A shot rang out, and Floki was forcibly spun to the side with the impact of the bullet. Then another shot came, and another, and another, each one making the Icelander's body convulse as multiple rounds of lead struck home in his back. With four bullets lodged in his body, the mighty Floki uttered a gasp of agony, dropping both weapons on the stone, then sank down to one knee, and with a final groan he fell dead on the floor. In confusion, Nate and the others turned from the body to see Garnier standing, pistol smoking, the front of his shirt and pants soaked with blood, and a jewel-encrusted goblet in his left hand. Nate stared, his heart sinking as he looked up at Garnier's face and noticed that, behind the wild-looking strands of hair hanging down, his eyes had a strange, dark look to them that had not been there before. "He drank the water," Nate said, his voice low.

Pitching the goblet carelessly aside, Garnier drug the back of his hand across his mouth and raised the gun at Nathan and his friends. "Now," he said, his voice labored and raspy. "for the rest of you!"

Floki's men whirled around to point their guns at him, but the scientist just laughed. "Shoot me, you idiots! See how far it gets you!"

No one had the chance though, for it was at that moment that a savage, animal-like growling filled the room, and everyone turned to see the guardians of Atlantis swarming through the doors. Sword edges flashed, spear points gleamed, bowstrings creaked, and the hideous guardians fanned out to begin advancing toward the small group of survivors. "Oh, not good!" Sully said, taking a step back. "It's those Greek guys again!"

"Not just them!" Molly shouted, pointing at some of the guardians that were smaller in stature and dressed in the shenyi of the Qin dynasty. "Look! It's Xu Fu's men, too!"

The few remaining thugs turned and opened fire on the new threat, but the guardians were advancing quickly while the bullets failed to stop them. "Time to break for it!" Nate shouted, then turned heel and ran. Garnier disappeared through one door while Nate and the gang ran through another, and behind them they could hear the sounds of carnage as the hapless thugs were quickly overpowered by the guardians, their screams soon falling silent along with the gunfire.

"Nate!" Sully roared as the path began to incline steeply. "What do we do now?"

"Whatever you do, don't stop running!" he shouted back as the hideous noises grew closer behind them.

Chapter Text

"Move, move, move!" Nate yelled as he ran behind Sully, Chloe, Charlie, and Molly through the labyrinth below Atlantis, followed closely by the savage noises of the guardians. The adventurers rounded a corner at breakneck speed and were immediately halted by a cave-in that blocked off the tunnel ahead.

"Oh, now we're dead!" said Sully.

"Look!" Chloe pointed at a small gap at the edge of the pile of rubble. "It looks like we can squeeze through there."

Leaning back to peer around the corner, Nate saw the advancing guardians just a few dozen yards away. "Chloe, a grenade!" She handed him one and he ripped the pin out before lobbing it towards the creatures. "That'll slow 'em down for a few seconds."

The resulting blast shook the tunnel, and the shrieks of the guardians could be heard in response as the shrapnel settled. Nate looked back to see Chloe and Charlie had already squeezed through the hole, and Molly was part way through. "Careful!" Chloe called, her voice muffled as it came through the rock. "It's one of those ventilation shafts, so don't fall when you get through. We can jump to the ledge on the other side, I think."

Sully disappeared out the other side, then Nate stooped and put his head and shoulders through the gap in the rubble, squirming as he maneuvered his large frame out onto the narrow ledge of the window that had been covered over by the collapse. He was about halfway through when he heard the guttural sounds of the guardians close behind him, and with a yelp Nate drew his legs in and leaped to his feet just as he heard the crash of a sword against stone. His sudden motion set him off balance and he nearly fell to his death in the shaft, except that Sully put his arm out to steady him. "Easy kid," he said gently.

"Thanks," Nate replied.

Standing in the window across the shaft along with Chloe and Molly, Cutter clapped his hands and motioned for them to follow. "C'mon, lads- 'aven't got all day."

Sully shook his head and scowled at the jump. "Well, you know what they say, 'One small step for man, one big-ass leap for an old guy like me'!"

Nate watched as his mentor threw himself across and grabbed the top edge of the knee wall on the other side. "That's... not how that went," he said, mostly to himself. Once Sully pulled himself safely up, Nate readied himself and launched into the air, stretching his arms out to catch the other side. His fingers closed on the stone and his arms caught the weight of his body, then there was a series of cracks as the wall unexpectedly crumbled beneath his grip and he lurched backward. A cry of shock came from his lips as he desperately reached for something to hold onto, and suddenly a hand closed around his. A millisecond later, Nate slammed against the rough-cut wall of the ventilation shaft, and he looked up to see Cutter holding him with both hands clasped tightly around his own.

"C'mon, mate," he said as he heaved Nate up. "I gotcha."

"Thanks!" Nate said as he set foot on the floor again and brushed himself off. Ruefully he noted that it was the second time in less than a minute he had been narrowly saved from falling to his doom.

"Hey, Nate!" Sully called from where he was looking through a hole in the wall a few yards down the tunnel. "Come have a look at this."

Nate trotted over and saw that the hole had been punched in the wall by a stone column that had fallen and was now sloping down from the tunnel where they were to another level about twenty feet below. Past the base of the column rose the regular, geometric forms of mud-brick buildings; some were whole, some were crumbling or covered with lava flow, and all were arranged around a grid-work of streets that ran between them. Here and there, statues of gods or other monuments were visible over the low roofs of the buildings, while a large crack in the ceiling high above let sunlight stream through into the ruined settlement below. 

"Check it out," Nate muttered to himself as he carefully walked down the sloping column with a wary eye on the crack in it's middle section. Reaching the end, he jumped down to the ground and jogged into the town as the others made their way down behind him. "Looks like we found suburbia!" he called over his shoulder as he ventured down the main path through the town. Passing a loose collection of bronze wheels, a couple axles, and some rotting boards that marked the final resting place of what had once been a cart, he joked, "Was that the ice cream truck?"

As he passed by a house that was partially swallowed up by hardened lava, he stopped upon seeing a face and a pair of shoulders sticking out of the rock, the figure's mouth frozen in a scream. An involuntary shiver ran down his spine.

"God, I'm never gonna get used to that." Chloe's voice came from just behind him.

He briefly looked at her over his shoulder. "This little settlement must have been some kind of a refuge for the Atlanteans, for in case the above ground city fell under attack." He scanned his surroundings and added, "Looks like it got caught in the eruption, though. The lava must have come in from up there." He pointed to the split in the ceiling. After a moment's silence, he shook his head and said softly, "We'd better keep going. We need to make it back to the surface and find a way to close those guardians in here- once and for all."

Leading the way with long, deliberate strides, Nate quickly made his way down the street in search of a way out. Passing a fallen and broken statue, Nate turned down a side street and immediately had to climb over a mound of lava rock with several more entrapped Atlanteans. "There's gotta be a way outta here," he muttered to himself as he turned another corner and splashed through a large pool of standing water in the road. Calling out to the others, he shouted, "Let's split up, see if we can find some route to the gates."

The group fanned out through the settlement, searching the ruined city for an escape. "Anybody ever see that city planning department?" Sully asked wryly as he scrambled over a lava flow and its victims.

"There's some kind of stone oven over here," Chloe called from a distance.

"Oh, lovely," Cutter snarked from somewhere more close by. "Maybe we could throw in a quick pizza, I'm right starved."

Molly's voice drifted through the air in response. "Yeah, I'm feeling a bit peckish myself."

"Hey guys?" Nate called without looking back. "Let's stay focused, huh? If more of those things show up, we're gonna be screwed."

"Fortunately for us," Sully replied from wherever he was, "we'll probably hear them coming a long time before they get here. With all that armor, they're about as subtle as the 1812 overture."

Nate stuck his head inside a partially burned-out house and peered at the cracking mud-brick and wood construction. "Don't forget that one that sneaked up on us in that room with the statues. We should keep our eyes and ears out in case they don't just come kicking down the doors or something," he called back as he ducked back onto the street and ran between a line of buildings.

It was at that exact moment that a loud crash like a door being kicked open rang out across the room, followed by the metallic clanging of armor jostling from heavy movement. Nate vaguely heard Sully say flatly, "I rest my case."

"Crap!" Nate hissed, picking up the pace as he sprinted to the end of the line of houses. He pulled out his Para 9 and checked it for ammo. "Where did those things come from?" he shouted. Bursting out into the street, he was immediately assailed with arrows and covered his head with his arms while he skidded on the loose gravel, slid across the road and into another alley, and flattened himself to the wall right next to another stony victim of the volcano. "That was way too close!" he muttered as he peeked around the edge of the house and fired at the guardians. More gunfire joined his, and Nate saw Charlie a short distance away behind another building.

As the guardians continued to advance despite the barrage of bullets coming at them, one in particular raised a strange looking device shaped like a bronze tube with a pot on one end, a dragon's head on the other, and a trigger underneath it. As Nate watched in confusion, the ashen-skinned and armored guardian squeezed the trigger, and to Nate's shock the weapon belched a veritable inferno which rushed toward them with the roar of a gusting wind. He yelped and ducked back behind the cover of the wall as the blaze raged between the two lines of buildings. "What the hell is goin' on?" Sully roared over the din.

The wall of fire receded as the guardian released the trigger, but it left behind a smattering of flaming resin that coated the walls, the street, and even floated on top of a puddle, though the heat of the fire was rapidly evaporating the water. Nate stared, momentarily forgetting the line of zombie-like soldiers marching towards them. "Charlie!" he shouted over to the Englishman who was cautiously looking around the corner of the house he was hiding behind. "Do you realize that that's Greek Fi-"

"I know what it is!" Cutter snapped back. "But these chaps are coming your way to give you an up-close demonstration, so you might want to move your arse, mate!"

Snapped back to the present by Cutter's urging, Nate glanced back to see that the guardians were indeed nearly upon him. "Shit!" he hissed, and then turned and sprinted down the alley away from the road.  His footsteps echoed off the mud structures on both sides of him and his feet pounded the ground as he turned out onto the road on the other side and was immediately stopped by another group of guardians. "Oh crap!"

The wall to Nate's left was half-collapsed and partially enveloped with a lava flow in which multiple people were partially submerged. As the guardians raised their weapons to fire, he leaped up onto the coarse stone and scrambled toward the roof of the house. "Give me a hand, pal?" he said as he used one of the eery appendages sticking out of the volcanic rock for purchase. He rolled onto the building as the blustery sound of the flamethrower filled the air once more, and Nate saw the resulting firestorm pass by as he came up on the opposite side of the roof. "Greek Fire!" he muttered to himself as he leaped across the alley to the next house. "Crazy... That explains what's been in those bowls!"

Charlie blind fired around the corner of the house at the mutated soldiers, while Sully did likewise from the alley across the street. "These guys are a real pain in the butt!" Sully roared over the sound of his revolver.

"Oi, you got that right!" Cutter replied. When there was a lull in the return fire he ventured a look around, only to be instantly driven back by a fierce volley of arrows. "Bollocks!" he muttered as he loaded a fresh clip in his gun. As the missiles continued to barrage the mud walls that were their cover, he glanced over at Sully and shouted, "Seems like this little town here has more in common with American suburbs than Nate realized!"

Sully managed to glare at him without ever letting up on his attack on the guardians. "I don't want to hear a goddamn thing about gun control from you, Double-Oh-Charlie!" he called back.

Cutter snickered to himself as he began unloading his gun on the enemies. A flash of olive and tan caught his attention, and he looked up to see Chloe leaping from the rooftop and across the alley he was holed up in, landing on the adjacent roof with a roll and a puff of dust. Moments later, Molly followed her.

"Care to join us, loves?" Chloe chirped as she casually tossed a grenade down into the street. Cutter and Sully both ducked back in their respective alleys and flattened themselves to the walls while the blast went off, temporarily subduing the Atlantean attackers.

"Thanks a billion, Chloe!" Sully yelled gratefully as he shoved his revolver into its holster and leaped up to grab the edge of the building. Cutter did likewise, and soon was on the roof with the two female members of their expedition.

"Let's go!" Chloe shouted, sweeping an arm to signal that Charlie should follow. He ran several steps until he reached the edge of the building, then threw himself to the next and landed heavily in a crouch as Chloe and Molly were already bounding over the alley ahead. He was just about to get up and keep running when an earthenware bulb, roughly the size and shape of a large onion, sailed overhead and then plummeted to the mud-topped roof. On striking the building, the clay sphere shattered and sprayed flaming liquid for several yards in all directions. "Shit!" Cutter shouted as he rolled to the edge of the building. Still curled up as small as his large frame allowed, he pressed himself up against the mud-brick parapet at the edge of the house, shielding his head and face with his arms as he watched the fire consume the roof just a couple feet away.

"Charlie!" Chloe called. He looked over to see her standing at the corner of the adjacent housetop, a brazenly open target as she rained vengeance on the Atlantean guards with a blazing pistol. One of the mutated soldiers raised another Greek Fire grenade to throw at Charlie, but a well-placed shot from Chloe shattered the weapon while it was still in his hand, showering both the guard holding it and those around him with the hellish substance within. Taking advantage of the momentary lapse in return fire that caused, she turned and looked directly at Charlie, her ink-black bangs falling over her wide eyes and giving her a look of desperation. "Charlie! Move!"

Cutter couldn't help but give the smallest of grins in return, despite the absurdity of everything. "Aye-aye!" he said as he stood and leaped from the parapet. Crossbow darts sailed past, missing by only the barest of margins as he flew through the air and landed solidly on the roof next to Chloe, who still put her arms out to catch him just for good measure. Up ahead, Nate was also traversing the city by rooftop, ducking every now and then as arrows shot close to him.

"We've spotted the door those things came through," Chloe said breathlessly. "Follow Nate- we need to get out of here, NOW!" She nearly pushed Cutter forward as she spoke, while simultaneously breaking in to a run herself. He took just a moment to look back, and saw that the guardians were beginning to try to scale the buildings themselves, and some of them were now actively aflame due to the foiled grenade, making for a sight that he was fairly certain was one of the most unsettling things he had ever seen in his life.

"Don't have to tell me twice," he muttered as he began running from the immortal soldiers.

Springing off the parapet of the housetop, Nate flailed through the air as he cleared a particularly wide roof gap and crashed down on the opposite side. He rolled to get back on his feet, then spun around to make sure that the others were still behind him. "Come on!" he shouted as he picked up the pace again. "The door's just over here!"

Immediately he spotted Chloe and Molly making quick progress across the tops of the settlement and Charlie not far behind, while behind him an entire house was in flames. Nate winced when he saw that a couple of the guardians that were in pursuit had apparently gotten some of the incendiary liquid on them and now resembled some sort of deranged, living voodoo effigies as they carried on despite the fire that clung to them. It was as he watched the grotesque figures scramble up the side of a half-burned out structure that it dawned on him that he hadn't seen Sully yet.

"Sully?" Nate called, cupping his hands around his mouth. "Sully!"

Over the general commotion of the cavern, Nate heard the sound of his mentor's signature revolver firing repeatedly, and he spotted the older man crouched behind the crumbling parapet of a roof as he fired on a group of guardians that had surrounded him. "They've got me pinned down, kid!" he yelled. "I need backup!"

Just then, Nate saw one of the Chinese guardians with a flame thrower slung over his shoulder begin scaling the side of the building Sully was on. Nate's eyes went wide with horror, and he began pumping his legs as hard and fast as they would go to get to his surrogate father. "SULLY!" he screamed as he again launched over the alley.

The clay and mud masonry crumbled beneath his feet as he touched down and Nate fell forward, landing on his stomach with his top half on the roof while his legs dangled below him. The impact knocked the wind out of him, and he groaned as his stomach twisted in pain. "Come on, Nate, get up!" he chided himself as he staggered to his feet and forced his body back into a run despite the protests of his gut. Seeing Xu Fu's soldier make it to the rooftop and reach for his hellish weapon, Nate pulled out his Para 9 and paused on the parapet of the roof to take aim. Two clean shots connected with the soldier's chest, stunning him for a moment, and Nate jumped across the gap and kept running. "Almost there, Sully!" he called.

The older man turned to see what Nate had been firing at and immediately leaped to his feet when he saw the approaching guard. "Jesus Christ!" he yelled as he pointed his gun and fired.

Only two more buildings stood between Nate and Sully, but the Atlantean was quickly advancing on Sully despite his attacks. "Back the hell off, ya' dirty rascal!" Sully roared. The guardian gave an almost careless backhand, as if swatting at a pesky insect, and knocked the gun out of his hands. Sully took a step back, but in the next moment a kick to the chest sent him flying to the edge of the building. As he groaned in pain and the guardian lifted his flamethrower, Nate piled on every bit of steam he had and reached the edge of the final house between him and his mentor. With an angry cry, Nate was airborne and coming down on the Atlantean with such force that both of them tumbled over the far side of the roof and into the alley below. Screaming as he pushed the guard in front of him, Nate closed his eyes as they hit the side of the next building over and smashed through the crumbling mud and wood wall, landing inside the house on top of a pile of debris. "Glad that was your back and not mine!" Nate yelled as he rolled off of his opponent and grabbed him by his shenyi robe, then hauled him to his feet so he could deliver a brutal punch to the face. As the guardian staggered backward with the ferocity of Nate's attack, Nate grabbed the flamethrower from him and turned it around on its owner. He squeezed the primitive trigger mechanism and winced as it unleashed a storm of fire on the guardian.

"Sorry, pal," Nate said afterward as he climbed out the hole they had knocked in the wall, "but you guys do not make this easy!"

Outside, the group of Atlanteans were split between maintaining their attack on Sully and investigating the new threat that had just come crashing in. As the hideous soldiers turned their attention on him, Nate pulled the trigger on the flame thrower and swept it slowly back and forth, driving them back by the sheer intensity of the fire. "Sully!" he shouted over the roar, "get out of there!". When the guardians were sufficiently stunned and disoriented, Nate slung the bizarre torch over his shoulder and turned to run toward the door, while also keeping an eye on Sully who was above and just a little ways in front of him.

A crash and a snarl behind made him look back to see that the burning guardians were close behind him and taking aim with their crossbows. Nate cursed and willed his legs to move faster.

"Up here, kid!"   

He looked up to see Sully crouched on the corner of a building and reaching down to him, ready to pull him up. Nate jumped, grabbed his hand, and was hauled onto the roof just as several darts ricocheted off the wall where he had been only milliseconds before. "Great timing!" Nate said breathlessly. "Thanks!"

"Not too bad yourself!" Sully returned the favor as they began sprinting along the tops of the houses, clearing gap after gap on their way to the exit. "You know, if someone woulda' warned me it'd be like this, I'd have brought some marshmallows!"

"Guess we'll have to stick with roasting wieners instead!" Nate yelled as he launched into another jump.

Reaching the end of the settlement, Nate and Sully bolted across the last stretch of open ground between them and the door in a half-crouch, as the other three who had already made it provided cover fire on the guardians that were quickly enclosing on them. "Hit the button!" Nate screamed at Sully, who had reached the exit first. The round stone that sealed the entrance against intruders began rolling shut as Nate raced with a smoldering guardian that was so close behind him he could nearly feel the creature's breath on his neck.

"Nate!" Chloe called frantically.

"Time to get skinny!" Nate shouted as he dove through the last remaining sliver of freedom just before the stone closed, crushing the guardian that was chasing him while it was halfway through, a Greek Fire grenade clutched and ready in its hand. "I'll be taking that," Nate said, grabbing the clay orb as he scrambled away. The entrapped, immortal being snarled and growled like a rabid dog, it's eyes positively venomous as it glared at them, unable to move. Knowing it was only seconds until the other Atlanteans pushed the button to open the way again, Nate turned and said, "Chloe! Would you do the honors?"

"Gladly!" she said, pulling the RPG off her back that she had snagged from Floki's goons as they were leaving the treasure chamber. "Step back, everyone." A rumble echoed through the chamber, heralding the door being opened again, and the entrapped guardian lunged forward while a single rocket streaked from the muzzle of the RPG and exploded. Striking the wall of the cave just above the door, the rocket's blast caused a cave-in that both buried the guardian and covered the entrance permanently. "Thank god for small favors!" Chloe noted blithely as the dust settled. "Though that was my only rocket-" she sighed and tossed the empty gun away. "It was fun while it lasted."

Cutter shook his head and rested his fists on his hips, still breathing heavily as he said, "Those things are right dangerous. We've got to keep them contained in here somehow!"

"Hear, hear!" chimed in Molly.

"He's right," Sully rumbled, turning to Nate. "We'd better quit messin' around down here and find a way to block that gate before these guys get out!"

Nate's countenance instantly fell, and he looked suddenly moody and sullen as he moved his gaze past Sully to a narrow stone bridge behind him. The bridge spanned a deep chasm which stretched desolately into the darkness in both directions, while on the other side, a small landing with a door lay waiting, beckoning to them to cross. "Yeah," he said somberly. "Let's go."

The rag-tag group of treasure hunters moved across the bridge in near-silence with Nate straggling at the back. Any noises they did make echoed forlornly through the craggy canyon like ghostly voices of Atlantis' sorrowful history, lending a chill to the air that wasn't just from the coolness of the cavern. When the group had nearly reached the opposite side, the now-familiar crash of stoneware breaking and the whoosh of fire igniting made them turn suddenly. Four pairs of eyes widened as they saw Nate standing on the opposite end of the bridge, with a veritable wall of flame between him and them.

"Nate!" Sully snapped, unable to keep the concern from his voice. "What the hell are you doin'?"

Grimly, Nate looked at them through the flames. "I'm making sure those guardians don't get out."

Chloe scoffed in disbelief. "And how exactly do you plan on doing that? You just going to go in there and ask them real nicely?"

Nate didn't reply right away, and instead turned slightly away from them so he could view the rock wall behind him where Chloe's RPG had opened a hole into another tunnel above. "The explosives Floki's men abandoned in the tunnels: if I set them off, it should trigger a volcanic eruption, maybe even a tsunami," he paused and looked directly at them, "and seal up Atlantis for good- the same way the gods did."

Molly's expression was a mixture of concern and confusion as she called to him, "You'll never have enough time to make it out once you activate those explosives!"

Turning to again fully face them, Nate said simply, "I know." The flickering firelight threw an ominous cast on him, accentuating his seriousness. 

"Goddammit Nate!" Sully exploded, jabbing a finger at him. "Don't even think about going back down there! There's other ways we can do this!"

Nate only began backing away from them in response. "I'm sorry I dragged you all into this," he called, his voice strained.

"No one dragged us into this!" Sully shouted. "Nate, don't do this! Nate!" He lunged forward but had to stop a few paces away from the blistering heat of the fire. Nate turned and ran the other way, then threw himself onto the cavern wall. With all the agility befitting him, he quickly scampered up the rock face and disappeared into the opening of the tunnel, and just like that was lost to sight of the four standing helplessly on the bridge. "Sonuvva b-" Sully trailed off, his anger giving way to despair as his voice dropped with pain. "Goddamn it, kid, why do you have to do stuff like this?"

After a moment, Chloe put a gentle hand on his shoulder. "Sully," she said softly, but urgently. "Maybe we can find another way through the tunnels and meet up with him." She met the older man's troubled face with earnestness in her eyes. "Either way, we've got to keep going! If these guardians get free, they could wreak havoc on the world." Swallowing as she tried to affect a confidence she didn't feel, Chloe added, "Nate- he's a legend, Sully, and he's been through a lot of crazy stuff. He'll think of something."

Charlie and Molly looked on with grim expressions while Chloe watched him searchingly, pleadingly as he stared after his protege. Finally, Sully tore his gaze away from the last spot he had seen Nate and turned back to the others. "You're right," he mumbled, his head hung dejectedly. He swallowed hard, lifted his chin, and heaved a heavy breath. With a hard-set jaw he said, "Let's go."

Chapter Text

Over the thirty-plus years of his life, Nathan Drake had been called many things. Some he was proud of, others he shrugged off with a joke or a flippant remark, while still others made him squirm at the unflattering truth behind it.

And then there was another category of titles with which he had reached a kind of emotional impasse, acknowledging that they weren't the healthiest ways of being, but nonetheless was who he was. To separate them from himself would be like trying to take the grain out of a piece of wood...

A low wheeze alerted Nate to the presence of a pair of guardians in the tunnel ahead, their breathing ragged and labored- sounding in a way he could only guess was a side effect of the tainted water coming off the Philosopher's stone. He slipped the flame thrower off his back and approached them stealthily, taking advantage of the deep shadow that clung to the underground labyrinth.

...Joining the ranks of that last category of titles were such things as Nate's impulsiveness. People had been warning him about his tendency toward precipitate action for as long as he could remember, and sure, it had gotten him in some binds, but just as often it had also been the start of his achievements. Thus, he had determined to live and let live when it came to that particular flaw...

A blast of flame roared from the dragon head-shaped muzzle of the archaic weapon and overtook the two Atlanteans, throwing them into a panic. In the scuffle, three Greek Fire grenades went rolling across the floor-miraculously intact- and were scooped up by Nate as he dodged past the smoldering soldiers and escaped down the hall. "You really thought this one out, didn'tcha?" he muttered as he ran down the uneven stone. "Locked yourself in a tunnel complex with a bunch of immortal guys who all want to kill you... no real idea where you are or where you're going... left all your friends behind." He stepped around a lava flow and it's half-enclosed resident. "Absolutely brilliant..." 

...Another such attribute was his ever-present need to play the hero. Ever since he was little, Nate was keenly aware of the feeling of letting people down: his mother who committed suicide, though he was still too young when it happened to really understand it. His father, when he surrendered him to the state. The nuns at the St. Francis boy's home, who were always telling him he was a troublemaker and on the path to destruction. His older brother, dying- practically in his arms- as they escaped a Panamanian prison. It was that feeling of letting people down that often made him want to try so hard to prove himself. 

Eyes scanning the gloom for any signs of enemies, Nate followed the tunnel as it began to slope sharply downward, all the while using the small cords tied around the necks of the grenades to hang the little stoneware spheres from his shoulder holsters. Though nothing could truly kill the immortal guardians of Atlantis, he found that Greek Fire was the most effective deterrent. The incendiary weapon disoriented them and often bought him a good half-minute or so to escape. It was unpleasant, but under the circumstances it would have to do.

...He sinned, he was a sinner. But, like his impulsiveness and hero complex, it was a part of what made him who he was. He helped people because he was a sinner with a heart. It always seemed to be the least he could do- a token gesture towards maintaining some universal balance. He cared about many people, even the ones he let down, and putting his neck on the line for them was a way he could prove that he cared. But at times he wondered if his heroics were to justify his own existence to himself, as much as to anyone else... 

"Oh, crap!" Nate exclaimed when, at the bottom of the steep incline, he ran headlong into a mixed battalion of the League of Corinth and Qin dynasty warriors. A frantic and disorderly skirmish ensued where Nate's pistol blazed relentlessly as he fought to extricate himself from the fray and get far enough away to use a grenade. A spear point drove into the wall mere inches from his face, and Nate dropped and rolled as an armored Qin warrior attempted to hack him in half with a sword. Finally breaking free, Nate bolted down the hall while tossing a grenade over his shoulder. The guardians cried out in surprise, and the noise fell further and further behind as Nate ran to put distance between himself and the stunned garrison. Ducking through a door, he slammed his fist into the button to close it behind him and breathed an audible sigh of relief.

"Oh, thank god!" he panted as he walked away.

...Frustratingly, the universe was not rewarding his latest- and almost certainly last- good deed with any feelings of nobility. In fact, when he separated himself from his team and accepted his task as a suicide mission to save the world, he only felt like he was choosing the lesser of two evils. On the one hand, he could escape with his friends and go on to live another day, while letting free an unstoppable army to wreak havoc on the earth. On the other he could save the planet from an evil it would never even know about, while causing anyone who still cared about him both grief and anger over his insistence on being a hero- even if that group of people was only the four who had come to Atlantis with him.  

In other words: he could shrug the sky off and go be a normal person for as long as it lasted, or bow to the crushing weight of responsibility and accept his ultimate fate to carry the heavens on his shoulders- no matter what the sacrifice.

"Hey, are those the stairs we came down to get to this hell-hole?" Chloe asked, pointing into the gloom.

Cutter squinted. "Looks that way."

Growling in frustration, Sully clenched his fist so tightly his knuckles turned white. "God-damn it!" he said, his mustache twitching in anger. "We've only gotten further away! There's no way we'll catch up to Nate now!"

Chloe cast a worried look at him, then at Cutter. "At least we know where we are now!" she said, keeping her tone as upbeat as possible under the circumstances. "We can find our way back to the shrine if nothing else, and from there we could follow Floki and Garnier's tracks."

"Don't forget, mate, that Nathan also has probably no clue where he is," Charlie offered as Sully continued to seethe. "It's going to take him some time to find those explosives."

Sully huffed. "Some kinda comfort that is- those guardian things could easily kill him before he ever gets there."

Chloe frowned. "Just try and stay positive Sully," she pleaded, her eyes shining as she looked at him. "Please?"

Sully furrowed his brows at her, his gaze grim but steady, then his shoulders slumped again as he heaved a long, slow sigh. "You're right," he muttered. "Let's keep going."

"Hey guys?" Molly, who had been strangely quiet since leaving Nate, asked the question haltingly, and the other three turned to look at her. "Do you hear that... that noise?" 

In the silence that followed as the four inclined their ears to the tense hush of the tunnels, the unmistakable sound of clanging metal and raspy breathing could be heard making slow but steady progress in their direction. "It's the guardians," Chloe said. "They're heading for the surface!"

"If they get out, everything Nate's trying to do will be for nothing!" Cutter added.

Sully looked over his shoulder at the stairway leading up into the dark cavern above, and knew beyond that it was only a short distance to the very gates of Atlantis. The creases at the corners of his mouth deepened as his expression contorted into a scowl of determination, and as he slipped his revolver out of its holster Chloe couldn't help but think that he looked like he had aged about ten years in the last hour.

"Looks like this is where we make our last stand, boys and girls," he said as he pulled the hammer back on his gun. "Let's make it a good one."

The slope leveled off and became a short landing before a closed door, and in the darkness Nate could make out the shape of something leaned up against the wall next to it. What I wouldn't give for a flashlight- or even Sully's goddamn lighter, he thought to himself. Sure, he had lit some pedestals with the flamethrower, but not as often as he would have liked to. It felt ridiculous, aiming a raging inferno at a bowl of fuel- akin to using an RPG to go pigeon hunting, or sending in the army to arrest a jaywalker. Also, he still didn't really know how to tell how much fuel the strange weapon had, and he would rather use it to roast guardians than light lamps.

"This feels familiar somehow," he muttered to himself as he neared the sealed entrance. On closer inspection, Nate saw that one of the bronze mirrors had fallen against the wall and was covering the button he needed to access in order to open the door. He hooked his fingers around the edge of the thick bronze disk, braced one foot against the tunnel wall, and grunted as he strained his muscles to move the unwieldy object. The mirror fell against the opposite wall with a deafening crash that resounded through the tunnel, and Nate  exhaled through pursed lips. "Those things are heavier than they look," he commented to himself as he pushed the button on the wall. There was a grating noise of stone on stone as the door rolled aside, and Nate stepped through the opening while the sound was still resonating in the tunnel.

Before him rose marble trees, their milk-white limbs aglow in the flickering light of the several pedestals around the room, and beside him a jeweled column rose to touch the ceiling. "It's the shrine room," Nate said as he stepped around to the front of the chamber's extravagant focal point. "I've come full circle!" He looked into the forbidding eyes of the serpent, then at the little quicksilver ball held in its mouth as the crystal water of the spring washed over it, then back at the towering form of Atlas behind him, and he found himself spellbound over it all. There was something fascinating about it, and the latent power held in the room- like the ground he stood on was a place where the natural met the supernatural, and heaven dipped down to touch earth.

Nate shook his head vigorously, shaking off the trance that had fallen over him. "All right, this is good," he muttered to himself, turning back toward the middle of the room. "I found the shrine, and I know which door Floki and the others came through. I can just follow it back, and-"

A low noise echoed through the chamber, and Nate turned to see a door opening across the way. Garnier strutted through- his normally impeccable hair hanging disheveled over his face, a large bloom of drying blood staining the front of his clothes- and the French scientist smiled at Nate, his dark eyes soulless and unfeeling as he casually drew his pistol.

"Garnier," Nate said grimly. He noticed that the Doctor's skin was already turning an ashy gray from the affects of the Philosopher's Stone.

"Ah, Mr. Drake!" he said, his voice low and raspy.

The scientist opened his mouth to say more, but Nate cut him off. "Yeah, yeah, 'two opposing forces, final conflict, waters of life, yada yada." He slipped his gun out of his holster but kept it at his side. "I know the spiel." He felt his pulse quicken, and the blood began to pound in his ears as he and Garnier began circling each other on the outskirts of Hera's garden, in the sunken center of the chamber where the corpses of Floki and his men still littered the floor between them.

Deciding to switch tacks and try reasoning with him, Nate called out, "You've been poisoned, Mathis! That water is the reason the Atlanteans are the way they are."

"Hardly the time to try to develop a relationship on a  first-name-basis, Mr. Drake," Garnier slurred. "Besides, do you think I don't know that?"

Nate looked at him pleadingly. "Get to the surface now and go find a hospital! They might still be able to reverse the effects!" Despite the sincerity of his plea, Nate's every nerve was taut and ready to react should the Doctor decide to attack.

Garnier smiled ironically. "Reverse the effects of eternal life?" He chuckled mirthlessly. "Why would I ever want to do that?"

"Reverse the poison that will make you into a deformed, drooling beast of a person," Nate retorted, ducking as he passed under a low-hanging branch laden with golden fruit. "Is that really what you want to become for the rest of eternity?"

Mathis sneered at him. "You want me to leave so you can take the Stone for yourself!"

Nate scoffed in disbelief. "I don't care about the treasure, Garnier!" he said, slashing an arm through the air for emphasis. "What I care about is those guardians who are currently making their way to the surface, and are going to destroy the earth if they make it out of here. We need to seal this place up for good, man!" He locked eyes with him again, and continued, "I promise- I won't take anything if you just let me go! Get whatever you want from here and get out, I'll destroy Atlantis and keep the power here from taking over the world!"

"Why would I trust a common thief?" Garnier asked, his face becoming enraged. "I'll never let you destroy this place, this sacred stone, this city of wonders!" he growled. "They all belong to me!"

The Frenchman lifted his gun and fired at Nate, who leaped behind a tree for cover. The bullet clipped the stone, breaking a chunk off the edge as it ricocheted with a ping toward the edge of the chamber. Pressing his back to the cool marble, Nate sighed. "That's what I was afraid of." He peeked around the edge of the carved trunk as Garnier sent several more shots his way, and he frowned as he considered his options.

"I can't kill him even if I tried... but I've gotta at least get that gun away from him!" he said, his mind racing to formulate a plan. Uttering a growl of resignation, he unhooked one of the Greek Fire grenades from his holsters. "Here goes nothin'!" he said as he jumped out from behind his cover, ducking bullets as he hurled the clay orb at his opponent.

Gunfire drummed out a harsh, staccato rhythm- the relentless beat of a few treasure hunters' resistance to the advancing guardians of Atlantis, and the accompanying muzzle flash was stark in the dim confines of the tunnel. Cutter squinted bloodshot eyes against the grim light as he ducked back and fished in his jacket pocket for a fresh clip after ejecting the spent one on the ground. "I'm not sure," he said as he jammed it in and pulled the slide, "how much longer we can keep this up."

"You mean," Chloe called through mostly-gritted teeth, eyes fixed down the barrel of her .45 Defender, "how much longer our ammo will last-" she fired her last shot and pulled back, "or our lives?"

"Exactly."

Sully blasted a guardian in the face as it tried to rush them. The immortal creature was thrown back by the force of the shot at close range and bowled over several others behind it in the process, creating a temporary but effective roadblock. "It's gettin' pretty hot down here!" Sully roared as he took aim again.

Taking advantage of the momentary lull in the attack the Atlantean pile-up had afforded, Cutter risked a glance over his shoulder. "We've got to get to the top of the stairs! It'll funnel them together even tighter and also give us the advantage of being above."

He looked back just in time to see a Greek Fire grenade sail towards them and then shatter in mid-air, dispersing it's flaming contents while it was still a ways off. Chloe smirked, her gun still poised for the shot that had saved them all from burning alive, then she replied, "I reckon that's a good idea, Charles."

As Sully finished reloading and began firing again, he glanced to the side and then did a double-take. "Don't suppose anyone's seen Molly any time recently?" he growled, his face contorting into a scowl as he glared down the sights of his revolver.

Cutter and Chloe looked over as well and saw that the British girl had indeed disappeared without a trace at some point during combat, with no sign except the vacant tunnel they had come from to indicate what direction she might have gone. "Jesus Christ, could this get any frickin' worse?" Chloe spat.

"Don't tempt fate!" Sully advised, only a little sarcastically.

Cutter swore under his breath as he squeezed off another few shots at the guardians. "She must have gone after Nate!" he called. Having emptied his gun again, he shouted to his comrades, "Take position at the top of the stairs! You two should be able to hold them off from there- just aim for their fire grenades as much as you can. I'm going after the other two!"

Sully shot him an exasperated look. "Are you out of your mind, Cutter?"

"I'm not letting another person die here today!" he called, already running down the empty tunnel.

"Charlie?" Chloe shouted at him, torn between keeping her eyes on the enemy and watching Cutter's retreating back as he ran down the hall away from them. "Charlie, wait!"

"Back in a jiffy, luv!" was all he said in reply, calling over his shoulder without looking back.

"Christ alive, how many selfless martyrs did we pack on this trip?" Sully asked in frustration, his teeth gritted against the kick of his revolver. Grabbing Chloe by the arm, he retreated up the stairwell with her reluctantly in tow to take their post at the final frontier of Atlantis.

Chapter Text

The premise of the contest, Nate knew, was ridiculous at best, and suicide at worst. Essentially, the fight was pitting the mortal against the immortal, the vulnerable against the invulnerable, and man against the Gods.

But life had never dealt him fair odds before. Why should it start now?

Nate's last Greek Fire grenade smashed on the stone paved floor, spraying liquid hell in every direction, and Garnier shielded his face as he ducked to the side, narrowly managing to stay out of the affected radius. Cursing under his breath, the scientist quickly scanned the room for his opponent, his dark eyes squinting into the searing haze coming off the flames around him. 

Nate lunged, catching Garnier by surprise as he put him in a headlock from behind. The scientist uttered a strangled cry while Nate used his free hand to wrench back on the arm with the gun and strip the weapon from the Frenchman's grip. Clattering to the stone, the little pocket-sized gun was briskly kicked aside with the toe of Nate's boot, and it skittered into the middle of the inferno left behind from his grenades. As Garnier tried to elbow him in the side, Nate tossed the smaller man to the floor, only to join him a split-second later as his feet were knocked out from under him with a sweep of Garnier's leg. The Frenchman was first to get to his feet, and Nate lurched as one of his spit-polished oxfords collided violently with his gut, knocking him down on his face again. An instant later the offending footwear came down sharply on his hand and crushed it, causing him to drop his gun. "Ah! Not good!" Nate grunted, leaping to grab his gun a split-second after Garnier's foot sent it also sliding into the flames.

"Alright," Nate huffed as he stumbled to his feet while cradling his throbbing fingers. "Flag on the play! Finger stomping is definitely a foul."  He raised his fists defensively as the two of them began circling each other again. "Also, that was pretty much a brand new gun, and I know someone who's going to be absolutely pissed."

Garnier glowered at him. "What's foul is your willingness to destroy the very cradle of human life without any qualms for the knowledge that would be lost!"

"We can't allow those guardians to get out, Garnier," Nate attempted to reason with him. "They will absolutely destroy the world, and there's no way to stop them!"

"And that's worth destroying humanity's chance at immortality?" Garnier asked in a rage.

Nate set his jaw, his gaze steady as he replied, "Sometimes we have to make sacrifices for the sake of the greater good."

Scoffing, the Frenchman shook his head scornfully. "What do you know... about sacrifice?" He caught Nate by surprise as he suddenly stepped forward and threw a right hook that struck his jaw. It lacked the power of Floki's musclebound pile drivers, or even of someone with combat experience, but it was a punch nonetheless, and Nate staggered back. He recovered just in time to catch Garnier's second blow, capturing the scientist's fist with his left hand while delivering a punch to his gut with his right. Garnier gasped as the wind was knocked out of him; Nate grabbed his shirt with both hands and kneed him in the stomach, causing him to stumble backward as he struggled to catch his breath.

Faster than Nate expected, the French scientist recovered and leaped forward again, assailing him with a barrage of punches and kicks and knees that came with such ferocity Nate was driven back toward one of the stone trees as he desperately blocked the attacks coming at him. "Do you want to know what sacrifice is?" Garnier growled, his voice throaty and grating as the toxin in the water continued its work on him. "Imagine living in the shadow of your own brother and his 'successful' business ventures." He threw a punch, Nate blocked it. "Imagine watching everyone swoon over his accomplishments and how much he's made of himself, all the while knowing the strings he's pulled, the people he's bribed, the lies he's told to get where he is!"

A kick connected solidly with Nate's midsection, and he flew back against a tree and fell to the floor. As Garnier lashed out again, Nate rolled to the side, coming up on the Frenchman's right, and punched him in the face. Enraged, Garnier retaliated sloppily with a blow that Nate easily eluded.

"Imagine living in the eclipse of such shallow achievement, knowing that you yourself are far more intelligent, far more deserving of praise, and have worked far harder to show it- only to be overlooked by everyone! Imagine having your every move hampered by bureaucracy and ignorance, your genius forestalled by imbeciles who refuse to acknowledge the legitimacy of your scientific breakthroughs. Imagine being on the very cusp of glory and recognition, only to be thwarted- time, after time!" Another punch was blocked by Nate, but the angered Frenchman followed up immediately with his other fist, and Nate doubled over in pain. Garnier brought his knee up sharply, catching Nate under the chin, and Nate staggered back.

"You're getting slow," Garnier commented dryly. "I thought you were supposed to be good at this."

Nate wiped blood from his mouth and scowled. "You know what? How about you try fighting off an army of revolutionaries, a squadron of planes, being in a cable car as it gets shot down, and then going over a waterfall? Then come back and see me, and we'll revisit the topic."

The two men rushed at each other again, clashing in the shadow of Atlas, and each strike, each desperate and savage blow, was charged with the finality of a decisive battle to turn the tide of the future. Nate was mercilessly barraged by Garnier, and as the damage he took was slowly but steadily wearing away at his stamina he found himself slipping more and more into a defensive position. By contrast, the effects of the contaminated water from the Philosopher's Stone meant any hits he landed on Garnier did little or nothing to stop him, or even slow him down, and the scientist almost seemed to be getting more fervent and empowered as the fight wore on. As Nate ducked his head and used his battered forearms to absorb another bombardment of hits, Garnier resumed his impassioned monologue.

"Imagine, then, that after stumbling onto the scientific find of the millennium and beginning a noble quest to secure the very end to death itself, you are once again foiled at every turn by an idiot barbarian, his band of discount revolutionaries, and a rag-tag bunch of pretentious and meddling treasure hunters who think they're some kind of heroes!" The last word was punctuated with a particularly vicious hammer punch that clipped the top of Nate's forehead as he tried to block it. "Tell me," Garnier continued, his impassioned ranting settling into a deadly calm for a moment. "Being the thief that you are, what have you had to sacrifice recently?"

Nate's mouth settled into a frown as he looked his adversary in the eye. "More than you know, pal." Springing suddenly forward, he threw a straight punch at the scientist, who batted it aside. In a flash, Nate followed up with an uppercut to the underside of his chin, then grabbed Garnier by the collar and threw him. The Frenchman caromed off one of the marble trees, skidded across the floor on his side, and stopped up against Floki's corpse.

As Nate ran toward him, Garnier looked over at Floki's knife- still coated with blood- and snagged it from the Icelander's lifeless grasp. He slashed it through the air and Nate leaped aside, bending at the waist to avoid the evil-looking blade. "Whoa, watch it!" he cried as it passed unnervingly close to his midsection, grazing the tan denim of his pants as it crossed his thigh. Garnier lurched to his feet and thrust the crimson-covered blade at him; Nate grabbed his wrist and directed the tip of the weapon harmlessly to his side, then with his elbow he struck the Frenchman just under his left eye.

Garnier cursed, clapping a hand to his bruised cheekbone, and Nate dashed for the line of trees, intending to skip out on what was clearly a losing battle. He placed a hand on the silk-smooth carving as he pushed past, his eyes on the door, when suddenly a grenade dropped just a few yards ahead and he had just enough time to duck back behind the tree trunk with a startled yelp before the explosive went off. Shrapnel launched in all directions, pelting the carved tree and raining through its branches while Nate covered his face and eyes with his arms. His ears ringing from the explosion, Nate looked up as the dust settled and was startled to see the stone branches over him moving. Then came the sound of crumbling rock, and the tree he was hiding behind began to tilt towards him.

"Oh crap!" he yelled, leaping aside as the exquisite marble statue toppled and smashed on the floor. A piece of the rubble spun through the air and landed on him where he lay curled up on the ground, the rough edge slicing across his shoulder and gouging his cheek as it bounced off. Nate cursed, then rolled aside and pushed himself to his feet. His eyes followed several gold apples as they bounced and rolled across the floor before coming to rest near the figure of Garnier, who was smiling grimly at Nate as he grabbed the pin of another grenade.

"Oh no, my friend. You know nothing about sacrifice," the scientist said, his voice low.

"Hey, those things are not toys!" Nate yelled as a second grenade hurtled towards him and he took cover behind another tree.

"Oh, bloody hell!" Charlie muttered, shining his dim light at the fork in the tunnel ahead of him. "How am I s'posed to know which way she went, now?"

Indecisively, he shone his flashlight down first one tunnel, then the other, the meager beam of his dying light barely penetrating a dozen yards in the thick darkness. Something glinted on the ground as he switched it between the paths again, and he quickly turned it back to investigate.

"Hello," he muttered as he stooped down and picked up the little brass shell casing and turned it over in his fingers. "It's from Molly's gun!" Looking up and further down the tunnel, he noticed another shell a little ways down, jogged over to it, and picked it up as well. "She left a trail of them," he mused, shining the light down the hall and spotting the tell-tale glint of at least two more shells. "A trail of breadcrumbs..." his brows knitted together as he started running. "Either she was afraid of getting lost down here," he said to himself, "or she wanted to be followed!"

Nate lunged aside and rolled as yet another marble tree was destroyed by the onslaught of grenades Garnier had plundered from the bodies of Floki and his men. At this point, nearly the whole orchard had been flattened, and Nate was starting to worry about what he would do once all his cover was well and truly gone.

"You know, I feel like- at least in spirit- this still breaks some kind of responsible forestry laws!" he called out. Garnier responded by lobbing yet another grenade at him, which Nate again rushed to get away from. As the blast faded, Nate added, "Being a scientist and all, it seems like that would- maybe- ... bother you more than it does?"

He scrambled for more cover and tripped on a loose rock, landing on his backside on the ground. As Garnier picked up another grenade Nate clambered to his feet, using the rock wall of the cavern for support, and took a weary step back. The hair on the back of his neck prickled with a sudden, intense heat, and he stopped in his tracks.

"You! Will NOT! Stop the forward march of progress!" Garnier screamed at him. "And I will make my mark on the world of science!"

Nate risked a glance over his shoulder and was confirmed in his fears. Lava oozed from the wall behind him, a searing, red-hot menace taunting him with its imminent appearance. Garnier's mind, Nate knew, was far too enraged, not to mention distorted by the water, to notice or care about the repercussions of what he was about to do.

"Oh, shit!" Nate yelled, making a break directly toward his opponent as the grenade sailed past and landed at the foot of the wall.

The explosion racked the chamber, the shock wave making Nate stumble, and as the noise died down it was replaced with the increasing sound of crumbling and breaking rock. Nate did not have to look back to know what was happening.

"AhhhhHHHHH crapcrapcrap!" he shoved himself to his feet and barreled blindly toward the raised portion at the perimeter of the room. In the flurry of movement, he saw Garnier running beside him and felt the scorching heat of the lava as it caught up with them just as he set foot on the bottom step. Screaming, Nate flung himself forward and rolled hard against a stone wall, banging his knees and his head as he did. For a moment the world swirled in front of him as he rolled onto his back and stared upward, then the indistinct shapes suddenly snapped into crystal-clarity in the form of Garnier looming over him with the blood-stained knife poised to drive into his stomach. "Gah!" Nate rolled onto his side, barely avoiding the blade as it came down, then he kicked out with his left boot and caught Garnier's collarbone. As the scientist recoiled with the force of the kick, Nate grabbed onto the knee wall surrounding the pool in front of the serpent and used it to clamber to his feet, but before he could get away he felt the knife bite into his skin. An explosion of pain radiated out as it sliced from just under his left arm, around his side, and down his back to his waistline before finally deflecting off his leather belt. Nate cried out in pain and collapsed to his knees while holding himself up on the wall with his arms, his vision swirling for a moment as the raw, burning sensation washed over him.

A casually-delivered kick to his shoulder sent him sprawling on the ground again, and Nate gritted his teeth against the pain. Turning over once more, he saw Garnier standing over him once more, this time with the knife held at his side and a satisfied smirk on his face. "Such a valiant effort," the Frenchman tutted. "Only to be wasted in the end."

A gurgling noise from off to the side briefly caught Nate's attention, and he looked over to see a bubble of volcanic gas belch up from the surface of the lava, which had risen to about the level of the second step down and then apparently stopped. The heat scorched his face, making his skin feel raw, and he let his head flop wearily back onto the stone floor.

This was not how he was hoping this would go.

"You see, Mr Drake, how futile it is to continue fighting," Garnier said with a patronizing smile. "You cannot defeat that which is invincible."

Nate frowned and pushed himself up on his elbows. "Maybe not," he said, his voice quavering as he dug deep for resolve. "But I can sure try."

Garnier scoffed and glowered at him. After a moment he spun a quarter turn on his heel and faced the serpent statue. "A noble sentiment," he said flatly, his voice betraying that he thought otherwise. "I'd admire you... if it wasn't so utterly stupid."

Nate watched as Garnier took a tentative step over the short stone wall and into the pool. Alright, he thought. As long as he's gonna do his whole villain monologue thing, no harm in taking a break for a minute, right Nate? Get nice and rested for... round two... Inwardly, he groaned at the mere thought of it.

Garnier sucked air through his teeth as the frigid water soaked his pant leg halfway up his calf, but after a moment he put his other leg in and then waded over to the stone serpent from which the water was flowing. "Sadly," the scientist continued, "your inordinate qualms about the dangers of this artifact are not only laughable, they're tragic in their own right." He reached out and stroked his fingers gently across the polished surface of the Philosopher's Stone, watching the water divide around his fingertips as it flowed around the mercury globe, and his expression turned to one of tenderness, like he was caressing the face of a lover. "After all, if you die here, you die next to the very thing which grants eternal life." He snorted in derision. "Such a fool's errand you're on."

He cupped his hands around both sides of the little sphere and gave it a tentative pull. "Now, the power within this stone will be used to truly benefit mankind!"

Nate eyed the stone warily. "III, wouldn't do that if I was you." he warned.

But Garnier wasn't listening. Eyes rapt on the stone, he wriggled the quicksilver orb free of the serpent's fangs. "With this stone," he said, holding it aloft with a look of crazed wonder, "I will cure humanity of the one sickness all have been infected with- death- and with its ability to turn common objects to gold, I will render poverty a thing of the past! I will solve all of mankind's problems, and by the end of it everyone will know my name! The glory I so deserve will be mine- eternally!"

As Nate looked on, Garnier turned to face him, leering down at him. The lava cast an eerie glow on his greying, ashen skin and the dark, dark bloom of red blood on his white shirt, and for a moment Nathan was really, truly, afraid. This was not the frail, timid scientist who had been chasing him across the globe. Not anymore, that is.

Nate was in deep, deep trouble.

Then he saw the way the stone was starting to lose it's shape, becoming soft and malformed as the intense heat of the chamber melted the volatile mercury. Garnier noticed too, and looked in incomprehension as drips began to run down the side and the stone sagged in his grasp. "What the- what is going on?" the Frenchman sputtered.

A rumbling and a crash made Nate look out over the room. The multiple explosions had caused the cavernous chamber to become unstable, and two chunks of the ceiling fell with a hiss and a splash into the lava below. Nate clenched his teeth grimly and looked back at his opponent as the Philosopher's Stone continued to liquefy, running down the scientist's arms, staining his sleeves as well as his very skin a disturbing, silvery gray color. "NO!" Garnier cried in horror as the object of his desire was reduced to a puddle on the ground. He dropped to his knees, his palms flat in the pool of mercury as he hung his head and nearly whimpered, "It cannot be! How did this happen?" He slowly lifted his hands to look at them, agonizing as he lingered on the glistening silver residue that now coated them.

Taking that as his cue, Nate set his jaw in determination and pushed himself to his feet. "I tried to warn you," he said. "Being a scientist and all, you should know what happens when you expose mercury to this kind of heat." He rolled his shoulders and assumed a fighting stance. "C'mon, Frenchy," he bit out, leveling a death glare at him. "Let's go."

Garnier lifted his eyes and looked at Nate from behind his wild bangs, pure hate oozing from his pores. With a roar of fury, he flung himself forward, slashing the blood stained knife twice, while Nate carefully dodged. Locking hands with him, Nate wrestled Garnier back toward the pool, but both men were suddenly knocked off-balance by a violent tremor that shook the ground. As the two men staggered away from each other, Nate glanced back in time to see a huge rock fall from the ceiling and strike the statue of Atlas on the crook of its arm. The marble cracked, then split apart as the titan's muscular limb fell in two and Atlas' forearm dropped into the lava, upsetting the balance of the celestial globe that symbolized the sky on his shoulders. Nate's eyes widened, his mouth opening in an "o" as he watched the massive bronze astrolabe tilt, then roll across Atlas' broad shoulders before dropping off and landing in the lava with an catastrophic splash, sending ripples radiating out in every direction.

"Oh, you've gotta be shittin' me!" Nate yelled.

The astrolabe continued to roll, coming towards them along with the waves of lava. Nate and Garnier both leaped onto the knee wall around the pool as the first swell of molten rock washed over the floor they had stood on, but it was unclear whether they would be so lucky to escape the next where they were. Screaming as the incoming lava rushed toward them, Nate and Garnier both leaped out from the wall and just barely managed to reach the bronze axis band of the astrolabe as it passed close to them. Nate flailed as the giant ball continued to roll, and for a moment he thought it would tip too far and dump them both off. Then it stopped. Nate pulled himself up, windmilling his arms as he fought for balance on the awkwardly-pitched band, and then looked down the axis about fifteen feet where Garnier stood, wielding the knife and with a look of absolutely venomous murder in his eyes.

Nate sighed. "Ahhh, this is gonna suck!"

"Yeah, this totally sucks, mate!" Chloe yelled over the sound of gunfire. Each bullet disappeared into the raging inferno that the stairs had become after shooting several Greek Fire grenades out of the sheer necessity of keeping the guardians at bay. "Worst bloody job ever! Even if any of them make it back, there's no way they'll make it up the stairs now! All three of them are bloody deadmen!"

Sully stoically stood beside her, firing his revolver at any flash of movement he saw in the flames. "Well, knowing Na-" he stopped, his mouth snapping shut as he squeezed off a few more shots. Chloe glanced over at him in concern, but after a moment he continued, his expression as stony as ever. "Knowing the way things usually go, this whole place is gonna come crashing down around us at any moment!" he growled. "With any luck, maybe it'll open up a hole in the floor that Cutter and the girl can climb through."

Chloe frowned, casting another look askance at Sully as she considered the sheer force of self-control in those words that steadily and deliberately avoided the mention of his surrogate son. Popping the clip out of her gun and immediately replacing it, she asked, "How much longer d'ya think we can hold out."

Sully ducked back out of the mouth of the stairwell so he could reload, and he looked at Chloe from under furrowed brows. "I dunno," he said gravely. "But I know that they had all better hurry!"

The knife flashed, blows swung, and the two men continued to spar on the narrow bronze band above the roiling magma below. Nate's thin Henley was drenched in sweat and clung to him like a second skin, his body ached from the constant punishment, and his head was beginning to feel woozy- and he knew the poisonous volcanic gases were starting to get to him. In short: if this didn't end soon, he was One. Screwed. Hombre.

Nate shoved the blade aside as Garnier took another stab at him, but he was too slow to dodge the headbutt that came right after. As he reeled back, the scientist swung again and punched him off the edge, only for Nate to grab hold as he fell. More stones fell from the roof of the chamber and the astrolabe rolled, pitching the band just as Garnier attempted to stomp Nate's fingers. While the Frenchman grabbed onto one of the wire-like meridian lines to anchor himself, Nate hooked his feet on either side of the now-angled band and slid down the outside of the axis to a spot below his opponent. The giant sphere shifted again, coming more into level, and Nate pulled himself up as Garnier turned and scowled at him.

"You're nothing but a pathetic little insect, buying yourself measly little moments of time before your inevitable defeat!" the enraged scientist growled.

As Nate, winded and weary, gained his footing again, he made a half-hearted attempt at formulating a comeback, but found that his well-spent brain was unable to conjure up something. So instead, he settled for the pettiest of childhood retorts straight from his days in the Catholic Boy's Home: "I know you are," he panted, "but what am I?"

Garnier rushed at him with another flurry of punches and slashes, driving him back along the axis until a hit got past Nate's defense. Before he could recover from the punch to the jaw, Nate felt his adversary grab the back of his shirt and throw him, and a moment later Nate found himself dangling from a meridian wire with one hand. The astrolabe rolled again as another tremor shook the floor, and suddenly Nate was lifted high above Garnier, flailing to grab on with his other hand and swinging his body to build momentum. As the giant orb began to shift once more, Nate flung himself off and came down on top of Garnier with a crushing blow that sent him sprawling backward and nearly over the edge. The Frenchman angrily picked himself up,  and Nate shook his head and tried to ready himself for another round.

"Alright," he wheezed as he eyed the crazed scientist. "For being such a small guy, you're pretty good." Leaning on one of the meridians of the astrolabe to support himself, he faced Garnier, his chest heaving. "You gotta admit, though, the whole 'not being able to die anymore' thing is kind of a big advantage. Just sayin'."

Garnier charged. Nate braced himself, his addled mind giving directions to a body that felt like it was swimming in molasses. Dodge! Block! Watch that knife... Block, punch, dod-

"AGHHH!" Nate's scream pierced the air as white-hot pain blinded him for a moment. The shock of sudden, overwhelmingly intense pain rendered his thought processes a kaleidoscope of nauseating color that swirled inside him, unable to grasp what had happened or even do anything besides groan weakly. As the stars cleared from his vision he looked down and saw Garnier's fist pressed to his chest with something in his hand. A knife. He had a knife in his hand. That knife was now buried in Nate's chest.

Certainly explains the pain, Nate thought sardonically.

"Ugh!" he grunted in agony as the Frenchman drove him back against the perpendicular axis, keeping the blade firmly lodged in his chest as he did. Nate felt the color draining from his face even as the blood soaked his shirt, and Garnier leaned in close, his uncannily gray-colored face inches from Nate's. "Finished!" he hissed, his toxin-induced graveliness thick with venom. Retracting the knife suddenly, he stepped back as Nate slid down the bronze beam into a crumpled sitting position. The scientist ran a hand through his hair, slicking back the bangs that had fallen over his face, and he smiled in satisfaction. Nate groaned, his chest rising and falling rapidly with shallow breaths as he locked eyes with the Frenchman. "You may have cost me the stone," Garnier spat, "but you will not cost me my dream!" Raising the knife again, he added solemnly, "Goodbye, Nathan Drake."

In the next moment, several things all happened at once. Garnier lunged forward to deliver the finishing blow, Nate summoned the strength to stick his leg out to fend him off, and a massive chunk of the ceiling dropped, striking off the top of the astrolabe with a deafening clang. As Garnier ran stomach-first into Nate's foot, the bronze sphere also tilted dangerously from the impact, throwing both men to the side. Nate weakly grabbed for a handhold as Garnier fell, tumbling down the axis and bouncing off a meridian line before plummeting into the lava below, his scream going silent as he disappeared beneath the surface. As the astrolabe rolled, the thick axis band came to rest right on the spot the scientist had fallen, pinning his body to the ground as it stopped. Then- the room fell silent.

Acrid black smoke drifted up, swirling around Nate as he dangled from a meridian line, still in shock from what had just happened and the hellscape that surrounded him. As his fingers began to slip, he realized he was only hanging from one hand and reached up to take hold with the other. Nate saw that the giant sphere had ended up close to the raised stone around the perimeter and by the pool, and he began to swing his body to gain momentum. Every movement sent shooting pain throughout his body from the stab wound, but he gritted his teeth and pushed through. Flinging himself from the astrolabe, he tumbled clumsily through the air and half-landed, half collapsed on the stone before rolling ungracefully against the knee wall and banging himself up even more in the process.

For a moment, he just laid there. Eyes closed, eyes open- he could hardly tell the difference. Everything was black and red and hurting. Slowly, agonizingly, he drug himself up the knee wall at the edge of the pool, pausing as dizziness overwhelmed him when he was on his knees. "Stupid!" he cursed himself in frustration. "I'll never make it to those explosives- I can barely even stand up!" When the feeling subsided and he opened his eyes again, he found himself face to face with his own reflection, staring back at him from the still spring water. He looked terrible: face ghostly white and covered in sweat, his shirt soaked with blood... It was a man half-dead that stared back at him from that inordinately tranquil, frigid pool of water. "

If you die here, you die by the very thing that grants eternal life..." Garnier's words came back to him, the Frenchman's mocking tone drifting through his mind. Maybe he was right.

Nate spotted the goblet Garnier had discarded earlier laying in the corner. Rising carefully to his feet, Nate walked shakily over and picked it up, then bent down and swiped it through the water to fill it. The cold water almost seemed to burn his overheated, clammy skin as his hand came in contact with it, making him inhale sharply. He lifted the cup, staring into the deceptively pure-looking water as it shimmered inside, and he stopped. He thought about the horrifying implications truly eternal life held for all those Atlanteans buried alive in the lava, and for those that still would be if he succeeded. The implications it held for Garnier, trapped under a giant astrolabe at the bottom of a sea of fire, and for him, if he drank this. Because, after all, the only thing worse than dying in a volcano is not dying in a volcano. But Nate's aching, weary body told him that he didn't have it in him to make it much farther, and if he didn't activate those explosives then everything he had just done was for nothing, and both his friends and the world were doomed. So he shut his eyes, took a deep, steeling breath, and told himself, "It's for them. For the gang, for Sully, and-" He stopped, watery eyes snapping open as he swallowed a lump in his throat. "For Elena!" Then he lifted the goblet, putting the gilded edge to his mouth, and tilted his head back until the cold, cold water touched his lips.

BANG! The cup flew forcefully from his hand, spinning crazily through the air before landing in the lava with a hiss of steam as the gunshot rang through the chamber, violently splitting the relative silence. Nate cried out and clutched at his hand as it throbbed with the painful shock waves of the impact, and in confusion he looked for the source of the shot. From the side, through an open door, Molly Greene strode determinedly into the chamber, her .45 defender still smoking and raised from firing. "DON'T- drink that!" she warned sternly.

Nate gawked in confusion. "M-Molly?" he sputtered. "The hell are you doing here?"

"Relieving you of your duty," she said flatly as she lowered the gun to her side. "And I won't take 'no' for an answer."

Nate stared. "No!" he said suddenly, shaking his head. "No no no! Not happening!" He crossed his arms over his chest. "Go, Molly. Get out of here- now!"

Gritting her teeth, Molly replied, "Nate, I told you- I will not take no for an-"

"And I won't take it either!" he said, raising his voice. "I got us into this mess, Molly, and I'm going to get us out! Now go!"

Molly scowled at him, but suddenly her scowl turned to a coy smile. "Fine," she said, slipping her gun into its holster. "But if you want me to leave, you'll have to make me!" She mirrored Nate's pose, crossing her arms and jutting one hip out defiantly.

Narrowing his eyes, Nate growled in frustration as he regarded her stubborn behavior. Why did everything have to be so god damn hard? With anger fueling his battered body, he stormed over and grabbed her by the arm, expecting her to resist, but instead she peacefully followed him as he led her to one of the open doors at the edge of the room, muttering a string of curses under his breath the whole way. "Goodbye, Molly," he growled as he moved to push her out into the tunnel. "I'm sorry you had to get involved in this."

Suddenly, though, she pulled away and slipped behind him all in one quick movement, and before he could react she shoved him forward through the door instead. He spun around to face her and was met with a very determined look and the barrel of her pistol. "Leave, Nathan," she said, calmly yet forcefully. "You still have more life to live."

He scoffed in disbelief and shook his head. "What are you talking about?" he said in a low voice. "My whole life's a goddamn train wreck!"

"Nate!" she interjected sharply. He met her intense, even gaze, her green eyes burning into his blue ones as she said, "Never argue with a woman who saw your future."

Nate stared speechlessly, unsure how to respond as the weight of her words sunk in. As he looked on dumbfounded, Molly suddenly looked behind him and then seemed to reach a decision of some kind. "It's been an honor, Nate," she said, her stance relaxing as she took a small step toward him. "I'm sorry about this."

His brows furrowed in confusion, then she abruptly pistol-whipped him and he slumped unconscious against the wall of the tunnel. Molly lingered a moment, casting a final, affectionate look on him, and then she slipped back into the chamber and shut the door from inside as footsteps approached from down the tunnel.

Chapter Text

It was at least the third tremor Charlie had felt- none of them very significant, but enough to be noticed. The first time he had passed it off as a figment of his imagination or the result of taxed nerves, the second time he acknowledged that maybe there was more to it than that. Now this third time, Charlie's mouth quirked into a frown and he quickly shone the flashlight around the tunnel to check for any signs of an impending cave-in. Did Nate already set off the explosives? the Englishman wondered. Am I too late, and now I'll get trapped down here too?

He shook his head, determinedly pushing the thoughts from his mind as he quickened his pace down the hall. Surely if that was a volcano erupting, he'd be feeling more than just a few slight quakes he thought to himself. Still, he broke into a run, reminding himself that either way his time was running out. "Nate?" he called into the darkness. "Molly?"

Turning a corner, he ran nearly headlong into an Atlantean that was forever encased in volcanic stone, his flashlight aimed directly at the tormented expression frozen on the creature's face. Shivering involuntarily, Cutter pressed his back to the wall and squeezed by, muttering encouragement to himself as his claustrophobia flared up for a moment. Then he was off again, racing against time and the stubbornness of his teammates in an underground labyrinth that felt like something straight out of Dante's hell.

It was a couple minutes later when vague sounds in the distance caught his attention. He slowed, straining against the sound-distorting nature of the subterranean complex to hear what and where it was. "Are those... voices?" he murmured, stopping entirely for a moment and furrowing his brows. Somewhere, not too far away from the sounds of it, two people were conversing in heated tones. Also, it sounded like one of them was a woman.

Cutter bolted, racing at breakneck speeds around curves as he sprinted toward the sound of the talking. One of Atlantis' stone doors slammed shut, and he leaned even harder into his run, coaxing every drop of speed out of his body that he could. "Molly!" he shouted. "Nate!"  His flashlight beam bobbed furiously and he skidded on the grit that covered the floor as he rounded a nearly ninety-degree turn.

On the other side of the bend Cutter spotted a figure slumped in the corner and he abruptly reigned himself in, his progress slowing to a trot and then a standstill as his eyes trailed over the limp posture of the figure, the pale and clammy-looking skin, and the large bloodstain visible on the person's tattered shirt. Cutter hung back reflexively, swallowing hard as the conflicting emotions of recognition and denial swirled in his mind and he stepped forward hesitantly. "Nate?" he asked, his voice barely above a whisper.

Cutter's knees hit the ground as he dropped down beside Nate and panic washed over him. "Nate?" He put a hand on his fallen friend's shoulder and shook him, but got no response. "Oh, shit- please don't be dead, mate!" Charlie murmured, eyes wide with worry. He lifted him to a sitting position, Nate's head lolling to the side as he propped him against the tunnel wall, and put two finger's on Nate's neck to check his pulse. Charlie exhaled through pursed lips and uttered a silent thanks to anyone who might be listening. There was a pulse. It was weak, but it was there.

"Don't worry mate, I'm gonna getcha out of here," Cutter said. He rose to his feet and looked at the sealed door in front of him. "Molly?" he shouted, then banged on the stone. "Molly, can you hear me?" From inside, there was a tremendous crash that shook the ground again, and Charlie gritted his teeth.

Making the call to leave someone behind- even someone he had only known for a matter of a day or two- was not something he could ever prepare for. The times he was on a team with someone, they were in it together to the end. Through all the dodgy situations he had been in (and he'd seen his share), the only times he had ever left someone behind is when they had either double-crossed him or were clearly, indisputably, dead- and only on a couple occasions had he even had to do that. But to know that an ally was on the other side of a locked door, alive and well, but out of reach and on a course to their inevitable doom, with no time to even find an alternative route to get to them? It made Charlie feel sick to think about. 

"Molly, damn it, open the door!" he screamed, pounding fruitlessly against the heavy stone. "Bloody hell!" he growled in desperation, sliding his palms down the door and leaning his bald head against the cool rock. Another crash, louder than the others, interrupted his sullen musing, and Cutter clenched his jaw in indomitable determination. Swallowing painfully the lump in his throat, he gave one last look at the sealed entryway and put his chin up. "Impossible woman to thank," he noted.

The tunnel shook violently, causing Charlie to stumble into the wall. "Alright mate," he said as he pushed himself upright again, "time to get you out of here!" He crouched down, pulled Nate's right arm around his neck before lifting his bulky frame in a fireman's carry. Grunting as he adjusted the nearly 200 pounds of deadweight on his shoulders, Cutter exclaimed stoically, "Bollocks! Let me guess- 'It's all muscle', right?" He began trudging down the tunnel, muttering to himself as he went, "You definitely owe me one after this, mate... I'm gonna be calling this favor in, you can count on it!"

With steely resolve, Charlie carried his fallen comrade through the winding tunnels of Atlantis, following the trail of bullets Molly had left behind back toward the surface. The occasional trembling of the ground kept his adrenaline flowing, and Cutter made excellent time despite having to carry Nate, arriving quickly at the fork in the tunnel where the bullet trail had first begun. Shrugging his load back onto his shoulders, Charlie started down the tunnel he had come down originally when suddenly he heard the unmistakable sound of clanging metal and heavy footsteps coming his way. "Oi! lovely," Cutter breathed. "These bastards again." He looked hesitantly over his shoulder at the second, unexplored, tunnel behind him and pulled out his gun just as the first of the Atlanteans came around the corner. "'ello, boys!" he growled, then pointed his pistol and began unloading it on them. The guardians screeched and snarled viciously, the sudden attack throwing them into a momentary frenzy as they blindly reacted, but soon enough darts were flying from their crossbows and Charlie turned, running as fast as his cumbersome burden allowed down the other tunnel. "Oh no, oh no, oh nononononono-" Cutter ranted to himself as one of the bizarre Atlantean flamethrowers unleashed its fury behind him. He stumbled, and blind-fired over his shoulder in hopes to buy time, but when he did chance a look behind him he saw the savage guardians rushing towards him regardless of the flaming resin that coated the tunnel, their swords and spears flashing in the ominous light of the flames.

"We're not in Kansas anymore, Toto!" Cutter shouted to his unconscious companion as the tunnel pitched suddenly downward. Sliding down the gritty slope in a half-crouch, he used his momentum to launch back to his feet at the bottom, but was mortified to see that on the other side the tunnel sloped immediately up again at just as much of an angle. "Oh, I'm sodding well in it now!" he grumbled as he started up the hill with the Atlanteans close in pursuit. Ducking as another dart whizzed past his head, Charlie fired over his shoulder again until the slide on his gun popped back, alerting him it was empty. Breathing heavily with exertion, he jammed it back in its holster and slogged onward, having slowed nearly to a walk as he made it close to the top of the incline. "Anytime you wanted to wake up, mate... it'd be right lovely," he panted.

The otherwordly grunts and growls of the guardians seemed to be nearly on top of him as he finally reached the summit and immediately burst into an arcade of sorts; Cutter cut right and half-ran, half stumbled along the row of columns, hoping that by some stroke of luck he would find his way out. Muttering encouragement to himself, the Englishman rounded a bend in the arcade and was confronted with another group of guardians coming from the opposite direction. He immediately stopped, wide-eyed and nearly panicking. "Oh, not good. Not bloody good," he said to himself, glancing over his shoulder at the guardians coming up behind him. Trapped between two squadrons, he looked out through the arches at the edge of the balcony and saw that the arcade was positioned about twenty or so feet above the river, similar to the chamber outside the Shrine Room they had encountered on their way into Atlantis, and Charlie swallowed thickly. As the lead Atlanteans in both groups leveled their flame throwers and readied to roast him alive, Cutter squeezed his eyes shut, mentally bracing himself for whatever might happen next, and then threw himself out of the arcade with a scream.

Two walls of fire collided violently behind him, bursting out through the arches and splaying in all directions as Charlie sailed through the air and crashed into the frigid river below, the combined weight of him and Nate driving him instantly toward the bottom. Fighting the overwhelming urge to panic that his claustrophobia brought on anytime he was more than a foot or two submerged, Charlie clawed his way determinedly upward, hauling Nate along with him, and soon he broke the surface, spluttering and taking in gulps of both air and freedom. Gasping as he shook his head to clear the water from his eyes, Cutter looked upward to see both flamethrowers now pointed directly down at him, with multiple archers lined up on both sides of them.

"Oh, come on!" he exclaimed desperately. "Give a fellow a break?" As he splashed his way toward the bridge and the waiting shore just twenty feet away, there was a roar from the flamethrowers and Cutter looked back. The place on the river he had just been occupying moments before suddenly became engulfed in evil-looking Greek Fire, which danced nightmarishly on the very surface of the water. "Shit!" he hissed, and looked up to see the guardians again homed in on him, and he was pretty certain he wouldn't be able to out-swim them for long. As the horrifically-disfigured Atlanteans again unleashed their hellish attack, Charlie spoke with the calm resignation of a man who had come to terms with his fate- "Deep breath, mate," he said, ignoring the fact Nate was currently unresponsive. Then he dove under the water.

The roar of the flamethrowers was muffled as Charlie plunged downward moments before the surface became awash with flaming resin. Cutter dove deep to avoid accidentally encountering the deadly substance, and he focused all of his willpower on not dissolving into a panic as the water closed in around him. The pressure in his ears grew and his surroundings became darker and more unfamiliar as he descended, and Cutter found himself squeezing his eyes shut against the anxiety that threatened to overrun him. No time to lose your head, Charles, he thought to himself. You've got to get Nate out of here first-and do it before he drowns! 

Charlie paused mid-stroke to tread water and look upward, and his heart sank at the dancing myriad of angry oranges and reds that played on the water above him as far as he could see. Terror rushed upon him, trying to overwhelm him as he suddenly knew what it felt like to be trapped under ice, only this situation seemed even deadlier somehow. He gritted his teeth and kicked out violently, propelling himself towards the bridge, his only hope in finding a patch of water that was not currently ablaze to climb out of. As he swam he repeated his go-to mantra for surviving such claustrophobic and frightening encounters- It will all be over soon, it will all be over soon. Coming on the tail end of that thought, though, was the unwelcome thought that, indeed, it would all be over soon- one way or the other.

Growling deep in his throat as he staunchly resisted such panic-inducing ideas, Charlie fought his way through the cold, inky water, dragging his unconscious friend with him. His lungs burned with the exertion of pulling so much weight, and Nate's limp form felt heavier with each passing moment. With hope born of absolute desperation, Charlie looked up again and saw that the orange and red painting the surface looked just as vibrant here, and only then realized that the amount of reflected light would make it almost impossible to tell where a safe place to surface was.

It will all be over soon, it will all be over soon...

Hoping against hope, Charlie surfaced, and astoundingly was not immediately engulfed in flames. Sputtering, gasping, coughing, and very nearly sobbing with relief, he swiped at the water draining down his face and immediately struck out for the shore, and moments later was pulling both himself and Nate out onto dry land. Teeth chattering uncontrollably, Charlie lifted Nate by his armpits and drug him through the door and out into the tunnels beyond. "C'mon mate!" he said, his voice low and hoarse as he fought to bring his shivering under control. "C'mon, breathe!" Flopping Nate down on the floor, Cutter placed his hands on his chest and pushed down hard. "Come on, come on!" the Englishman growled, watching with rising concern as he pressed over and over again without response.

Suddenly, with a gasp, Nate's head lurched off the ground, and he hacked and choked until he coughed up some water. "Oh, thank god!" Charlie breathed through gritted teeth. Nate's head lolled to the side again, eyes still closed, and Cutter smacked his cheek lightly as he moved to lift him up again. "Alright mate, it's gonna be OK!" he said reassuringly, even as another compulsive shiver went down the Englishman's spine. "We're gonna be just-"

A low, bassy rumble interrupted him, shaking the ground beneath their feet. It was no louder than the others before it, but it was somehow more thorough, the shock waves much more complete, and even as Charlie's heart sank with realization, a much, much louder explosion came right on its heels.

"Bollocks!" he exclaimed hoarsely as the tunnel began to shake violently around him.

When the reverberations of the latest explosion resonated up through the earth, Chloe knew that that was it. This was the Big One. It rolled up from deep within the ground like the harbinger of the awakening of some horrific monstrosity, and she and Sully momentarily abandoned their vigil at the top of the inferno where their battle was being waged to exchange a knowing glance. Before either of them could open their mouths to confirm their own thoughts, nature did it for them, and the already unstable geography of Atlantis came alive with a vengeance while an ear-splittingly loud explosion ripped the last vestiges of security away, bringing the crisis at hand into a glaringly sharp focus.

"That's our cue!" Sully shouted while struggling to maintain his footing as the ground heaved beneath his feet. Chloe fell on one knee, and when he pulled her up their eyes met. She was taken aback by the grim determination there. "Come on!" he roared. "There's no use staying any longer, or we'll all be dead!"

As he ran on wobbly legs towards the gates of the city, Chloe threw one last longing look behind her. Her eyes became glassy as conflicting emotions raged, ready to erupt into despair at any moment. Leaving her teammates was just too hard.

"Chloe, let's go!" Sully's voice reached her more sternly this time. Torn between the two prospects, Chloe glanced over her shoulder before taking one last look toward the tunnels below. Of course they're not going to make it out, Chloe, she scolded herself as she finally decided to let the reality sink in. No one can even make it up those stairs with a fire like that!

Setting her jaw in a hard line, Chloe turned and began making her way toward Sully. She paused to keep her balance as a nasty tremor swept through again, causing a section of ground to her right to suddenly collapse. A massive slab of granite fell down into the tunnels below, pivoting on one corner and throwing up a massive cloud of dust as it stopped, coming to rest in a downward slope. As Chloe swallowed and stared at the destruction, a silhouette suddenly appeared through the cloud, an irregular form moving with quick, determined strides in their direction.

Chloe's eyes went wide. "No f-(a well-timed crash drowned out the next sound) -g way!" she breathed.

"Chloe!" Sully barked. "What the hell are yo-" Seeing the figure emerging from the chaos he stopped and stared, looking possibly even more flabbergasted than his Australian partner, as Charlie Cutter strode up to them with Nathan Drake draped across his shoulders.

"Oi!" Cutter said curtly as he reached the two of them. "What're ya bloody well standin' there for? Let's get the hell out of here!" The he proceeded to storm past them.

Shaken out of their stupefied trance, Chloe and Sullivan turned heel and followed as the Englishman marched out of Atlantis. "Is he-" Sully asked falteringly when he caught up.

"Yeah, he's alive!" Charlie called back.

Chloe was pretty sure she saw the ten years Sully had gained earlier in the day immediately fly away on distinctly mustache-shaped wings. Then a moment later another thought seemed to flash across his face. "What about Molly?"

"She set the explosives off!" Cutter shouted as he ducked under the half-collapsed stone gate. "Hurry, these things are gonna give at any moment!" Sully hesitated, casting a doleful look behind him, but then kept moving as Charlie said.

Sure enough, no sooner had the treasure hunters made it through the entrance to the fabled city than the monolithic gates cracked in pieces from the ongoing quakes and collapsed over the opening. Beyond them, the world was in an utter uproar. Cliffs were crumbling, red-hot lava spewed high into the air, and streams of magma coursed down the sides of the mountains around them, a few rivulets even making it into the crater where they were. From somewhere water crashed over the rocks and sprayed in all directions, a mercifully cooling mist in the midst of the searing heat that surrounded them.

"Come on!" Chloe beckoned to Cutter. "I'll give you a hand getting Nate up the side of this!" Taking Nate's right arm over her shoulders, Chloe helped Charlie lift his unconscious form between them, and they made slow but steady progress up the side of the depression. 

It was when they were almost at the top that a mighty roar made the treasure hunting gang stop and look up. To their right, from the direction of the sea, an enormous wave was looming, overshadowing them, and mere moments away from crashing down on top of them. "Oh, crap, here it comes!" Sully yelled.

The next instant they were all swallowed up and engulfed in the foaming, swirling waters of the north Atlantic as it rushed around them, sweeping them off their feet and washing them down the canyon. Losing all sense of orientation, Chloe flailed blindly in an attempt to find the surface, vaguely aware of the fact that at least Nate was still with her, though she couldn't tell if Charlie was. By a stroke of luck, the dynamic motion of the wave suddenly spit her out on top, and she choked on salt water as she struggled to stay afloat. "Cutter? Sully?" she cried, still blinking the water from her eyes.

"We're here!" Charlie's voice came back. A moment later she spotted them both within a hundred foot radius of her.

"Ah!" Chloe exclaimed. "That was a real doozy!"

"Not near as much as that's gonna be!"

Chloe turned to look where Sully was pointing and was horrified to see a forty-foot boat being lifted in its entirety, riding on the crest of a wave and poised to slide down the other side and crush them all within seconds. "Oh shit!" she screamed.

As the water flowed onward, the four treasure hunters slipped into the trough of the wave and the ebb revealed a rock formation between them and the barreling forty-foot behemoth. Sliding down the wall of water, the boat smashed broadside into the rocks with a terrific crash and the screech of tortured steel.

"You were right!" Chloe panted as her feet suddenly touched stone. "That was more so!"

The water dissipated, if only temporarily, and the small group found themselves sprawled on the ground below the precariously perched boat. Cutter lifted his head, then dragged himself to his feet and pointed to the vessel. "Don't know about you, mates, but I think I'd rather ride all this out on that thing then just as I am."

Sully scoffed. "Yeah, it's probably still slightly more likely to float!"

The adventurers scrambled up the jagged rocks to the rail of the boat, the little vessel creaking and groaning the whole time, threatening to come dislodged and fall at any moment. Cutter and Chloe carried Nate between them again, and Sully vaulted the railing onto the deck before turning and reaching down to take Nate. "Here! I'll lift him up!"

Another wave came crashing through the mountains and the ocean began to swirl around the base of the rocks again, rising quickly, so that by the time Sully had Nate by his arms and was dragging him onto the deck, the boat was already lifting off once more. "Go!" Cutter shouted as he pushed Chloe before him, making sure she was safely aboard before trying to get on himself.

"Charlie, hurry!" Chloe called, leaning over the rail to take his hand as the current pulled the vessel away from the rocks. Cutter leaped and grabbed her hand with both of his, and his feet scrabbled against the slick metal hull of the boat as he tried to gain a purchase. "I'll pull you up!" Chloe shouted.

"Better do it now!" Sully roared. Cutter glanced in the direction the boat was moving and gulped when he saw that it was about to crush him between the thick steel hull and the unforgiving side of a cliff.

"Chloe!" he screeched.

She swiftly jerked upward on his arms, pulling him up with remarkable strength just milliseconds before the hull made contact with the sharp rocks. Another ear-piercing squeal shrieked through the air as the boat scraped down the side of the mountain, before finally striking a log and bouncing away from it. "God, that was close!" Charlie exclaimed breathlessly. 

Chloe didn't answer and only looked ahead with a stoically assessing gaze. "Sully, are you getting those engines going?" she called.

"Workin' on it!"

She continued to stare at a set of evil-looking rocks that loomed ahead of them, their jagged and pointed sides promising an merciless encounter that their battered boat surely wouldn't withstand- and they were coming closer by the second. "Might want to get cracking," she said, glancing at the enclosed pilot house. "Cause those rocks are-"

"I know, I know!" he shouted back through the window, his voice flustered. "Does this look like some sort of pleasure trip to you?!"

Chloe watched with growing dread as the vessel slipped within a dangerously close range of the rocks, then with a splutter the boat's engines rumbled to life and the props instantly churned the water behind them to a froth as Sully rammed it hard into reverse. "Yeah!" Sully yelled over the din as they slowly clawed themselves off their impending doom.

Chloe let out a cheer of her own as she stood along with Cutter and dragged Nate into the pilot house, the two of them laying him down on top of the plain wooden chart table that stood in the middle of it. "Always believed in you, Sully," Charlie said, clapping a hand to the older man's shoulder as he stepped up behind him.

"Yeah, well, we're not out of the woods yet, kids," Sully growled. His gaze was steely, his lips quirked in concentration beneath his mustache, and Chloe noticed his grip on the wheel was white-knuckled. Bucking and pitching wildly on the unpredictable waves, the little boat made its haphazard way through the  treacherous canyon toward the ocean while all around them the sky was raining fire and chaos. Lava bombs fell on all sides, and some even on the deck, and every foaming breaker carried the threat of concealed ridges that could disembowel the vessel in a heartbeat.

Then Chloe spotted it. A narrow opening between two cliffs, through which Sully was doing his damndest to coax the hapless vessel as it was tossed about like a rag doll. And when she noticed the flow of lava rushing down the mountain on the left, heading straight for their path of escape, she realized exactly what Sully meant about not being out of the woods. As the stakes of their entire expedition were, in a moment, focused all the way down to a piddling fifty-foot gap between life and death, Sully leaned forward intently, the accumulative sum of whatever Navy training he had received giving him tunnel vision to shut out anything except that one passage of clear water that was about to be flushed with molten rock. White-faced and wide-eyed, Chloe and Cutter watched the lava advancing impossibly quickly, and for agonizing moments it seemed as if they might reach the passage at the exact same time as the wickedly hot magma, and all be burned to a crisp.

"This is gonna be close!" Sully roared, jamming the throttle into its furthest forward position.

Then somehow, miraculously, the boat shot through the passage and into open sea a split-second before the lava reached the bottom of the cliff and flowed into the water, creating a roiling and deadly mixture of elemental power that spouted steam and gas like an alchemist's cauldron. In sheer ecstatic relief, Chloe collapsed onto the co-pilot's chair and washed a hand over her damp brow. "Unbe-lievable!" she cried, looking back just in time to watch the pillars of Hercules collapse into the maelstrom. "I can't believe we made it out of that!"

Sully snorted and threw a troubled glance behind him. "Yeah. Almost all of us."

She frowned as the weight of his words sunk in, but was immediately brought back to the present when Sully began barking orders. "Cutter! Can you check the bilge and make sure the pumps are keeping up with whatever water this thing's taking on? Chloe, find us a first aid kit and let's see if we can keep Nate alive till we can get to civilization." Reaching into a cubby nearby, he pulled out a chart and unrolled it on top of the instrument panel. "I'm gonna try to find us a place where he can get some decent medical attention."

"Aye aye, captain," Chloe murmured humorlessly, both her and Charlie turning to leave the pilothouse as Sully mulled over the chart and adjusted their course by the big compass behind the wheel.

"So this must be the boat Floki and his crew brought, huh?"

Chloe turned to Charlie, realizing that his question was the first thing to break the silence that had been over the pilot house for almost ten minutes. "Seems that way, yeah."

Sully looked behind them and saw that the volcano was now nothing more than a dark cloud of smoke on the horizon. Satisfied that the autopilot was holding and that they could well and truly say that they were in the clear, he sagged back into the pilot's seat, wearily scrubbed both hands over his face, and heaved a heavy sigh. After abruptly pivoting the chair around, he stalked over to the chart table where Nate lay motionless on his back. Standing over his protege, Sully watched his chest rising and falling rapidly, then frowned and looked over at Charlie. "God- he looks like reheated hell."

Cutter grunted and leaned forward, resting his elbows on his knees. "Reckon he probably feels it, too."

Examining the place where Chloe had cut Nate's Henley away to apply bandages and a compress, Sully tsked and shook his head. "Took a goddamn knife to the chest... Jesus Christ..."

Chloe appeared by Sully's shoulder, concern on her face. "How long until we reach land?"

Sully glanced back at the charts he had sprawled out. "We're headed to Agadir- it's the closest city that's big enough to have a hospital that can handle this kind of trauma, but it's probably a good six hours from here." Glancing out the window, he added, "Maybe a little less if the weather stays fair like this."

Chloe met his eyes compassionately. "All we can do is hope, right?"

Sully stared at her, stone-faced, and his mustache twitched. "I guess so," he sighed.

"Ugh, no... no, get out of here... Go!" The sound made all three of them look to Nate, who was suddenly shifting fitfully on the table, his face troubled, though his eyes remained closed.

"Nate?" Sully said, leaning forward. "Nate! Hey kid, it's OK!" He put his hand on his surrogate son's shoulder.

Nate groaned but seemed to calm down for a moment, then suddenly his eyes sprung open. "Molly! Where's Molly?"

Swallowing hard, Sully looked around for support, but the look on his face was all Nate needed to see. "She's dead," Nate mumbled, leaning back again and clapping a clammy hand to his forehead. "Oh, god..."

Giving a look of fatherly compassion, Sully could only offer the simple consolation, "I'm sorry."

"Ugh, she's dead... she's dead...," Nate mumbled over and over as his eyes fluttered closed again, and soon his mutterings trailed off. Chloe and Cutter gathered around him as he drifted back out of consciousness.

"That's right, mate," Charlie said softly. "Just get some rest."

"You did all you could do," Chloe added, giving Nate's hand a gentle squeeze.

Chapter Text

Elena watched the stream of steamy, golden liquid flow into the mug, swirling as it filled it to just below its delicate rim. The sunlight streaming through the large window to her left shone through the glass cup, dancing through the crystal-clear sides and the amber tea within while lazy swirls of condensation rose from its surface. The light reflected in Elena's hazel-green eyes as she received the warm beverage from her gracious host.

"Sweet- as life," the elderly man said as he placed the mug in her hand and smiled a smile that seemed to touch every corner of his face with wrinkles.

She smiled warmly back. "Merci."

The teapot was then rinsed dutifully and more water put on to heat.

It wasn't Elena's first time having Moroccan mint tea, but the tradition never failed to intrigue her. Who originated it? How old was the practice? And who said life was always sweet, anyway? But as the weathered old man across the table from her settled in and the conversation began in earnest, she pushed these musings aside in favor of the things she actually came over from Saudi Arabia to talk about: economy, politics, religious and racial tension, rumors, the word from on high, the word from down low, the word on the street. Somewhere in the course of it all, the old man added more grounds to the pot, beginning the slightly longer infusion for the second round of gunpowder-green and mint leaf tea. More than once Elena caught her mind beginning to drift, moving to mull on the meaning imbued in the next two cups, and growing somber as she dwelt on the evanescence of life and the pitfalls of love. When both of their mugs were drained, the old man refilled them with the second, stronger brew and spoke the words that were already swirling in Elena's mind as he passed her cup back to her.

"Strong- as love." Elena received the warm mug from him with a cordial smile, but when her wedding ring clinked against the glass she looked down at the little gold band like it had bitten her. How strong is that, exactly? she wondered. As her host rinsed the teapot again, Elena wondered whether what she had had with Nate was really love after all, and if it was would it be strong enough to revive at some point, or were they well and truly finished? Was love strong enough to bridge the miles between them, both literal and emotional, and to hold them together even while he was marauding around the globe in search of treasure and adventure?

Tea leaves were once more added to the pot for the third and final infusion- the cup that was "bitter as death"- and a dark, brooding cloud suddenly overshadowed Elena's mind. Would love be strong enough to surmount her own grief should Nate's foolhardiness ever get him killed? Like a sucker-punch to the gut, this last thought made her insides start to churn over and knot together as she stared at the slowly darkening water in the pot and wondered whether, if they left it to steep for a hundred years, a pot of tea would ever be as bitter as such a final and ultimate parting as death.

"Madame Fisher?" the soft-toned, elderly voice inquired. Elena jolted back to reality and her eyes darted to the man across from her. He was looking at her with kindly concern, and asked her gently, "Madame Fisher- is everything alright?"

She stared back in dumb silence for a moment before she finally managed to pull herself together enough to reply. "Sorry, Monsieur Jamal, I just-uh... I'm just feeling a little funny," she said lamely. "Is there a restroom I could use?"

"Of course." The convivial old man nodded.

He pointed her in the right direction, and Elena smiled gratefully at him as she excused herself from the table. When the bathroom door closed behind her, Elena fell back against it and took a deep, deep breath. Would anyone let her know if everything turned out okay, or if they were all even still alive after that adventure she had left them on? Or was she now "out of sight and out of mind"? Elena let out a frustrated huff and slipped her phone from her pocket. She wasn't ready to reach out to Nate yet, but she needed to know whether they had all made it out alright, or if they were still traipsing around the planet in search of lost relics and ancient cities.

Her thumb hovered over the keypad on her screen as she silently ran the possibilities through her mind. Should she text Sully? Scowling, she decided against it on the grounds that he was too close to Nate, and would likely inform him that she had. Charlie? Maaybe, but she didn't really know the guy all that well...

Chloe, she decided. The Aussie was friendly enough to tell her if something had happened, but sufficiently removed from Nate to not spill to him. Besides, Elena thought, Chloe knew what it was like to break up with someone she cared about. Elena sent the text and then let her head fall back against the cool wooden door and closed her eyes. What am I thinking? she chided herself. For all I know, they're still running around getting shot at and dangling from cliffs! Who's to say anyone will write back right now? Then another thought came, making Elena gasp and her eyes snap open. What if Nate left me and hooked back up with Chloe, and now she's-

A alert from her phone arrested her downward spiral into despair. Hurriedly, Elena pulled up the text to see the simple message from Chloe: We're all ok. Found Atlantis.

Letting out a sigh of relief, Elena scrubbed her hands down her face and slipped her phone back in her pocket without even bothering to write anything back. They were okay. They were okay, and they found Atlantis. She laughed humorlessly. Another one for the books of the legendary Nathan Drake.

As she returned to the table, Elena's eyes wandered to the window where a bustling, lively city passed by unaware of her inner turmoil. In a detached way, she wondered what Nate was doing right now, and where he was. As a group of obviously-tourists strutted excitedly through her line of vision, pointing and laughing loudly, Elena reflected that of all the places she could picture him being, this city was not one of them. Modern, touristy resort town, full of golf courses and five-star hotels? No, Agadir was not the kind of place she could ever picture Nathan Drake visiting, if his life depended on it. 

The dark-colored bourbon flowed into the glass, swirling and frothing as it filled the tumbler to the brim. From his perch, slumped with chin on the bar and peering over his forearms which were crossed in front of him, Nate stared into the rich amber beverage and watched glumly. Sparing him a less-than-impressed side glance, the short, balding man behind the bar finished filling Nate's glass for the umpteenth time, capped the bottle, and set the drink beside him. Nate couldn't help noticing that he placed it close enough to be within his reach, yet far enough away to make a subtle statement that he thought it was about time Nate stopped. Such token gestures were the closest the barkeep would ever come to cutting him off, though, so Nate ignored it.

"Thanks," he rasped as he sat up.

The bartender frowned at him, then raised his arms in a shrug and turned away.

Nate reached for the drink, but just before he grabbed it a large, calloused hand snatched it away. "Are you supposed to be drinkin' like this while on those painkillers?" a familiar voice growled.

When Nate looked up he was met by Sully's stern face looking at him, his bushy brows furrowed reproachfully. "I stopped taking them," Nate said, his words slurring a little around the edges. "Made me feel like crap."

"And a stab wound in the chest doesn't."

Nate shrugged carelessly. "Ya' get used to it."

As a group of patrons passed by the two of them, Sully leaned in and said in a low voice, "I must've been through every bar in Agadir looking for you, kid." Taking a quick look around, he added scornfully, "Figures I'd find you in the seediest one of the bunch."

"They don't ask questions," Nate mumbled, hunching over. "Won't make anyone leave until they're getting carried out on a stretcher."

Sully snorted. "That's the issue! You just spent a week in the hospital, kid, and now here you are working on drinkin' yourself to death." His tone softened a bit as he continued and he looked intently at Nate, who continued to stare at the counter. "Look, I know it's been rough. But this ain't healthy, Nate- and you know it. You gotta find a better way of dealing with all this. Go get yourself a job, somethin' you can put your focus on and get your mind off of your problems. Otherwise you're just going to waste away," he paused and gave Nate a knowing look, "and we both know you aren't meant for that."

A few beats passed in silence, and then Sully gently put a hand on Nathan's shoulder. "Look- Nate- I'm gonna go pick up your tab. Don't just sit here and drown yourself. Go do some digging, find something to do. It's like I told you before: you may have lost the hand, but you're not out of the game."

Nate gave him a reluctant glance out of the corner of his eye. "Sure, Sully," he mumbled, still hanging his head. As his mentor walked away to pay the bill, Nate sighed and buried his face in his hands. He knew Sully was right, of course. It wasn't healthy how he was being right now. But he was also wrong. This wasn't the type of thing that one of their regular grab-and-go jobs was going to make him forget. The kind of work they had been doing before Atlantis, lifting trinkets from collectors and small-time museums, were getting so familiar he felt like he could do them in his sleep. No, if he was going to find a job he could lose himself in and get his mind off his problems, it would have to be something that he could really sink his teeth into, something of some substance- and preferably something that he found personally interesting. Sighing again, Nate lifted his head, his hands stretching the skin under his eyes as he drug them down his face with a groan. As his blurry vision readjusted, he caught his own reflection in the streaky mirror on the back of the liquor cabinet behind the bar, and his eyes settled on the silver ring that hung from his neck.

That was it! In a moment of clarity, his booze-addled mind suddenly realized the one job that fit that description to a T, and the obvious answer to his dilemma.

It was a couple weeks yet before the crew felt like they had had enough time to rest and recuperate after the rigors of finding Atlantis, but soon enough the day came when they knew it was time to get moving again. After all, the adventure may have been over, but picking up the pieces was a project in and of itself. Fortunately for them, Sully, Chloe, and Charlie had each filled their pockets with treasure from the shrine in Atlantis just before Floki and Garnier came barging in and everything went to hell. Between that and finding a decent buyer in Casablanca for the Greek Fire flame thrower Nate had had strapped to his back when he was carried out (though they sold only as a historical curiosity, making sure to carefully discard the fuel prior to selling) they each came away with a small but respectable fortune. Chloe and Charlie bought tickets to London to start tracking down Kate Marlowe and the Hermetic Order; Nate and Sully promised to meet up with them by the end of the year, got on the next train to Cairo, and then picked up Sully's plane at the airstrip near Alexandria where it had been abandoned all those weeks ago. Though Nate and Sully knew they both needed to get home to pay their respective bills before they got evicted, they agreed to take care of one piece of unfinished business first.

It was a little bit surreal for the two partners in crime to, in broad daylight, knock on the door of a private residence they had previously robbed. When the groundskeeper Atticus answered the door he was in noticeably better spirits than when they had first met him while trying to sneak off the property in the middle of the night. When the tall, dark Greek informed them that Doctor Adamos had since passed away, Nate and Sully both offered their sincere apologies. Nate then held out the journal of Isaac Newton, expressing his intention to return it to its rightful owner. To both of their surprise, Atticus politely pushed it back and told him that he knew Milos would want him to have it.

When the two treasure hunters were back in the air and on their way home, Nate did some quick calculations with the time frame Atticus had given and reached the conclusion that, though it was hard to say with certainty since they had all lost track of time during the course of their adventure, it seemed very likely that Adamos had passed on the very day they had entered Atlantis. The revelation left both of them a little shaken.

Working out the logistics of making a trip back to such a remote area took several months, but both Nate and Sully were determined to pay their respects somehow. Eventually they made it back to the site on a brisk day in autumn, with a nearly cloudless slate-blue sky stretching above and a fresh breeze blowing in from the sea. The wind caught the sides of Nate's jacket as he picked his way across the cooled lava flow with a small bouquet of flowers in his right hand, his eyes searching the bizarrely foreign and wild-looking landscape. It was unsettling and strange, how different it all looked from the last time he had seen it. Stranger still knowing he had been there unconscious when it all of it happened.

Nate stopped at a spot he knew was directly over where the crater and the gates of Atlantis had once been. As he waited for Sully to make his way over from the valley where they had landed the plane, Nate stared out at the whitecaps forming and breaking on the North Atlantic, the distant roar of the waters carrying on the crisp gale. After a few moments his gaze turned to the unusual shapes of the charcoal-colored rocks around him. "So many unbelievable things..." he mumbled to himself as his mind turned to reflect.

"Much have I seen and known; cities of men

And manners, climates, councils, governments..."

Agartha, Quivira, that demon-snake temple in Ethiopia, El Dorado, Shambhala, Atlantis... The list was extensive. All these adventures, and all the stories that went with them...

"I am a part of all that I have met..."

Could he ever be happy apart from this? Apart from this world of adventure, discovery, and danger?

Did he even know who he was apart from this?

"Yet all experience is an arch, wherethro' Gleams that untravell'd world whose margin fades..."

Some seagulls cried as they flew overhead. Nate watched them pass and sighed through a frown. With the fingers of his left hand, he began to fiddle, channeling all of his angst into the small object he spun and flipped between them. He was sure of it: he could never, never settle down and still be happy.

"How dull it is to pause... not to shine in use! As tho' to breathe were life!..."

Nate heard Sully's footsteps approaching. His mentor's voice came, soft and low, from just behind his shoulder. "Chloe and Charlie send their regards," Sully said, sotto voce. "They wanted to be here, but obligations in London kept them."

Nate simply nodded. He stooped, and somberly, wordlessly, lay the bouquet of flowers on the surface of the lava flow. Sully's lips quirked into a rueful expression and he shook his head sadly, his eyes fixed on the arrangement. "She was a good partner," he said finally, exhaling heavily. "A good friend."

Nate frowned, his gaze fixed but distant as his thoughts continued to sweep him along. "That she was," he said.

"Death closes all: but something ere the end

Some work of noble note, may yet be done

Not unbecoming men that strove with Gods..."

With almost every story of adventure and heroism, Nate mused, came a story of someone he had hurt, someone he had let down. It was like a trail of broken promises, broken hearts, injury, and death that followed him wherever he went. Sam, Dr. Winters, Karl Schafer, Molly...

"Tho' much is taken, much abides..."

And, of course, Elena. His lovely, adoring wife, his marriage with whom he wrecked because of his own short-sightedness and selfishness. Nate shook his head slowly. "Everyone I've ever know, everyone I've ever cared about, I've always ended up hurting," he said, his voice so low Sully almost didn't hear him. "Everything I touch... turns to shit."

Sully opened his mouth to refute, but thought better of it. He'd give the kid his moment, then later offer him some fatherly guidance to get him squared away.

"They all would've been better off without me," Nate murmured. Over and over his fingers turned the small, round object they held, rolling it around like the bitter thoughts that churned in his mind. Sully suddenly noticed it, and his eyes widened.

"and tho' w e are not now that strength which in old days

Moved earth and heaven, that which we are, we are;"

Nate paused, ceasing his restless fidgeting and holding the slim item poised delicately between the tips of his thumb and first three fingers. Sully looked from Nate's hand to his face, and then back down to his hand.

"One equal temper of heroic hearts,"

Nate's fingers parted ever so slightly, moving only a hair's breadth, and suddenly it fell. Flashing gold in the sun, twirling and spinning as if in slow motion it fell through the eternity of space that was the two or three feet between Nate's hand and the ground.

"Made weak by time and fate, but strong in will..."

Sully watched in astonishment as Nate's wedding ring hit the stone and bounced, shining brilliantly as it flipped up into the air, turned once over, and seemed to linger for an instant before falling again and finally coming to rest, the vibrant gold band standing in stark contrast to the charcoal-black below it.

"To strive, to seek, to find,

and not to yield."

Briefly staring at the horizon again, Nate ran the tip of his tongue over his lips and turned away. "C'mon, Sully," he said darkly as he began walking back toward the plane. "We've got a score to settle."

Sully looked on as his surrogate son strode resolutely through the canyon, across the fantastic formations of rocks. Kneeling down, he picked up the ring and placed it in the center of his weathered palm, his storm-grey eyes lingering on its polished surface. As he slowly stood, Sully's eyes slid over to stare at Nate's back as it moved ever further away, and the corner of his mustache twitched in concerned consternation. At last, with a final, sad shake of his head and a look between Nate and the ring, Sully slipped the little gold band into the pocket of his cargo pants and trudged off towards the plane.

Chapter Text

Whoo-ee! What an experience this has been for me, and hopefully you, too! It's a little hard to believe that, over a hundred and twenty thousand words, fifty-plus nameless goons, eight countries, six heroes, two villains, one lost city, one magic stone, one hero fallen, and OVER one year from the time I started writing this, we've finally reached the end! Well, as could be expected with such an undertaking, there's been some interesting behind-the-scenes work that's happened, and I decided to compile some of the highlights here for anyone who's interested. The idea to do so came from the final chapter of imperfectconstellation's work "Fortune Favors Us", which is a great story to check out if you haven't yet! To imperfect, if you're reading this, here's a shout out to you- thanks for the idea, and it will be returned (mostly) unharmed!

Atlantis was the last city I wanted to be finding in this story:The driving force behind this tale was exploring the falling out between Nate and Elena, as well as the effects of Nate's "heroic responsibility" on his relationships- which is where Isaac Newton and the "shoulders of giants" motif came in. When looking for a lost city to be the backdrop of these themes, I decided early on "anything except Atlantis", as I felt like that location was too cliche at this point, having been done so many times before. Naturally, then, it's exactly the one I ended up doing, because in the end it suited the needs of the narrative best. *Shrugs*

The Philosopher's Stone was the last artifact I wanted to be finding in this story:For reasons similar to why I didn't want to do Atlantis, I also didn't want to make this story a search for the Philosopher's Stone. So- naturally- I did it anyway, because it best suited the plot and the Isaac Newton alchemists thing.

The original plot leaned way harder into the Far Eastern/ Peng Lai thing: I have a soft spot for the beautiful antiquity of China in particular, and this story originally had way more of it set in Asia. I changed it because it was starting to feel too much like I was ripping off Among Thieves. Come to think of it, many ideas were discarded to avoid resembling UC2 too strongly...

Rika Raja was in the first draft: Back off, RR fans, I offer no apologies! :) Molly Greene's role was originally filled by Rika, in a sort of semi-redemptive arc for her character in which she realized that Nate tried to save her brother and she decided to help him out to atone for double crossing him in Eye of Indra. Nate was going to find her in a tavern in a remote mountain village he stumbled into after going over the waterfall. I discarded that idea mostly because 1: it seemed too similar to ending up in Tenzin's village in UC2; 2: it seemed out of character for the Rajas; and 3: there's been enough "villain redemption arcs" in Hollywood lately, IMO. Also, I thought it brought nice closure to Molly's character and went a little ways to why she was never mentioned later in Nate's adventures, and it made the ending that much more angst-ridden! :-)

Floki was originally missing a hand: Floki's character was based on this logger guy I met once who, unlike Floki, is actually a fantastic person. He had a scar across one eye and was missing his left hand, and I just thought, "Man, this guy is epic! I've got to make a character like that in this story!" Eventually, I decided that having one hand gone would be too much of a handicap for who I needed Floki to be, though, and settled for just the eye scar.

Regrets?: Only one- that I didn't make use of the legend about the Atlantis library underneath the Sphinx of Giza, as opposed to an invented temple ruin outside of Alexandria. I'm not even sure why I didn't, I think I just forgot about it... Oh well, I kinda liked the whole booby trap with the scales, anyway, and it gave me a great opportunity to insert some gratuitous self-references! :D XD