Work Text:
Well, Sam tried.
It’s not much of a thought to have in jail, but he’s got nothing but a lot of thinking ahead of him, wasting away in Columbia.
He tried; shoving Nathan back out the door when they got home from school that day, to spare him the scene. Forgetting is easier said than done.
He tried; not crying at the funeral home, though it may have been his anger preventing it anyway. Dad didn’t even fight for a mass at church.
Maybe Sam should have yelled at dad then, and the day they were dropped at the orphanage. God knows he did his fair share of yelling after.
He tried; fighting back to get kicked out and it worked. Nathan would be safe, but Sam needed out.
Samuel Morgan really was going to work more or less honest for a few years then take his brother back. Samuel Drake has to put his own clothes on his brother’s back, then move them onto the next place without incident.
Except now he’s in a Colombian jail with no parole in sight and left Nathan with nothing but pie-in-the-sky ideas about old explorers. God help him, Nathan’s smart, but he’s absolute shit at finding himself food and shelter. The thought of it accounts for pretty much all of Sam’s sleepless nights.
While pacing, he bums cigarettes off guards. Sam’s Spanish isn’t great, but he’s picking it up fast enough and gets the gist of their comments. Too young, too much, too American.
“Thank you for your concern, Nancy,” he mutters between drags.
He gets word from Nathan months later; a note slipped unceremoniously by one of the guards.
Made my bail. When you get out, I’ll be in New Orleans.
They’ve never been to Louisiana; Sam doesn’t recognize the address at all.
Balling the note in his fist, Sam’s mind runs. How the hell is Nathan getting to New Orleans? How the hell did he wind up in jail too?
Sam tried, God damn it. It just wasn’t enough.
----------
After Portugal, Sam thinks about going to see Nathan, but decides to give New Orleans a wide berth instead. His conversation with Victor’s under his skin enough, he winds up dialing his brother instead.
No. Sam hangs up after one ring.
Over the phone’s not going to cut and it might be awkward since no one’s brought up the over several grand he slipped in Elena’s pocket.
If Nathan noticed a missed call from him, there’s no mention of it.
Elena’s phone call a little bit later takes some of the pressure off Sam’s chest. It’s the least he can do by way of atonement, but if they lost the gold somewhere between Madagascar and home, Sam would be within his rights to worry.
The news his brother and sister-in-law are selling their house, buying a boat, and on their way to Malaysia practically sends Sam’s head spinning.
“So are we having all important conversations over the phone?” he asks Nathan.
“Come out and visit us before the dig gets out of control,” Nathan urges with a bit of a chuckle.
Sam needs to stop being so chickenshit. He buys his plane ticket.
He can’t help but be impressed and a little intimidated by the size of Nathan and Elena’s operation and how quickly they got it together.
“You know, when I slipped you the gold, I kind of meant it for a house bigger than where you were,” he says, hugging them each in turn. He winces. Elena could have seen him waiting in the car when he convinced Nathan to walk out on her.
“Not really our style,” Elena laughs as she releases her hug, not calling attention to the shadow that passed his face.
“Besides,” Nathan points out, “This is bigger than where we were living.”
“Just so long as that couch offer still stands.”
As they show him around the boat and introduce him to the crew and what they’ve dredged up so far, it strikes Sam how happy they seem. Are. He can’t make out if that eases his guilty conscious or makes it worse.
They enjoy a pleasant enough dinner, but as the conversation wanes with fuller stomachs, Sam gets antsy.
“Hey Nathan, can we go talk?”
It doesn’t seem like a surprise because Elena and Nathan exchange a look. Elena sighs, and Nathan, rocking back in his chair, lets the front legs fall.
“Yeah, we should.”
On deck, Sam has a rapid mental argument with himself about lighting up torn between wanting to stay on his brother’s good side and soothing his own nerves. His nerves win out.
“Christ, where do I even start?”
“Sam –”
“Stupid question. I’m sorry.” Saying it so plainly burns as raw as smoke in the throat. “It doesn’t make up for any of it, but if I could do it differently, I would have.”
Nathan’s arms are folded, and his expression is neutral. “No, it doesn’t make up for any of it.”
However much this conversation has played out in Sam’s head the past few weeks, this hurts worse.
“Not pulling any punches, huh?” he drags deep.
“What good’ll that do?”
Sam lets his exhale fill the silences.
“So you wanna talk,” Nathan presses. “Talk. Why’d you do it, Sam?”
It’s not Sam’s grown adult brother asking. It’s his baby brother asking why mom’s upset; why dad’s ignoring them.
“I wanted a win, Nathan. I wanted all that time locked up with nothing else to think about to mean something. Rafe talked so goddamn much about what’d you’d done – man, he hated you.” He can’t quite meet Nathan’s eye. “And maybe I did a bit too.”
“You know I would have done all of it with you. Rather would have had you around than set foot in any of those places –”
Sam throws his hands up, “I know, I know, it’s not great. I’m just trying this whole honesty thing.”
“You want honesty? Elena was ready to divorce me this time around. And you know what? I don’t really blame her.”
Nathan’s voice is raised just enough, Sam really hopes no one’s in earshot.
“You two seemed to have worked it out,” Sam points out.
“Yeah, because I’m lucky she’s a damned better person than you,” Nathan says coolly.
Sam can take the scorn and the hatred of anyone in the world, but not from Nathan. Too bad he’s about to ruin any little remaining regard his brother had for him.
Quietly, “I knew you were married.”
“What?”
“When… when I was doing research for Rafe, I looked you up so many times. Saw the rumor going around with other treasure hunters you’d gotten hitched to a civilian. Didn’t really believe it until I saw you and every time you mentioned Elena in the stories… yeah. Definitely not one of my finer moments.” Sam can’t will his voice to not break. “I thought I needed you more than she did.”
When Sam gathers himself enough to look, Nathan can’t meet his eye. “I need you both.”
Sam goes for another puff to notice he’s already smoked the cigarette down to a butt. Putting it out with his heel, “I get it. She’s pretty great. Lucky for both of us she’s better than the two of us.”
It’s getting harder to see by the light from inside, but Sam catches Nathan’s mouth quirk to a grin. “Speaking of luck, you are one lucky bastard Rafe and Nadine Ross didn’t blow your cover sooner.”
Sam lets out a weak chuckle, “You couldn’t hear me audibly praying every time we crossed paths with them?”
Nathan laughs. Sam couldn’t be more thankful even after all this he can make his baby brother laugh.
Continuing, “But luck kinda runs in the family.”
“Fortunately,” Nathan nods, then shivers. “Come on, I’m getting cold and Elena mentioned wanting to see how fast she can get you drunk.”
“To see how fast she can get me to confess to more sins?”
“To prove she can outdrink one Drake. According to her, you look skinny enough to beat.”
Sam scoffs, “I was in prison for thirteen years.”
“So you owe us at least two years’ worth of drinks.”
Nathan puts his arm around Sam’s shoulder and pulls him inside; the night’s chill unfelt.
There’s still more to talk about, but there’s all the time they need.
----------
Things are much more comfortable when docked back in New Orleans. Not that Sam’s prone to seasickness, but calm waters and not having to move around the crew is a plus.
Elena’s deep in doing whatever you do with footage and God knows what Nathan occupies his time with off the boat.
Sam’s trying to give them their space and often finds himself wandering the docks during the day, then the nearest convenience store to stock up on cigarettes. He should be looking for another gig but he can’t go running to Victor again and while Chloe Frazer made it sound like she had something lined up, Sam’s had no word.
He and Nathan return to the boat at the same time that evening, Nathan encumbered with takeout bags.
“I could have picked that up,” Sam says, irritated. It’s not like he’s been busy.
“Nah, it’s fine. Besides, I know what Mexican place Elena likes.”
“I’m perfectly capable of looking that sort of stuff up online,” Sam mutters to himself.
Dinner is almost annoyingly good to spite Sam’s frustration and ends with an awkward jostle with his hosts about who’s clearing the table. Once resolved, Nathan and Elena crash on the couch with the news on.
Retrieving beer from the fridge, Sam can’t help but marvel his brother’s turned into one of those people. He passes beers to the two of them and makes himself as small as possible on the opposite end of the couch. They quietly drink and watch TV – well, Sam zones out a million miles away.
He’s brought back to the present by what sounds like very faint snoring. Sam whips his head around and while Elena is still awake, Nathan’s propped against her, dead asleep.
“Can you believe the lunk?” Sam chuckles.
“I know, right?” Elena gazes down at Nathan longer than Sam’s comfortable. Glancing back at the TV, “I can’t watch any more of this.” She clicks the remote and the screen goes black. “Toss me the controller and hit the power button, please? Nate’s kinda got me stuck.”
Sam doesn’t have the faintest idea what she’s talking about until points at the video game console haphazardly plugged into the TV.
“It’s a bit embarrassing how much this helps me blow off work steam,” Elena says somewhat sheepishly.
“That’s gotta be normal, right?” Sam says completely clueless as the screen pings and dings.
“Nate doesn’t get it,” she laughs, eyes glued to the screen. “Are you as opposed as he is?”
Sam shrugs, “I’ve played an arcade game or two. Those places were great for practicing pickpocketing, more importantly.”
That makes her chuckle enough it looks like Nathan’s stirring, but it’s a false alarm.
Sam gets weirdly entranced by watching the fox run and spin across the screen.
“Jump,” he mutters preemptively, not realizing it’s audible to Elena, who casts a sideways glare at him.
“No one likes a backstreet driver, Sam,” she says but as the level total racks up, she sticks the controller his direction. “Think you can do better?” she dares him.
It’s not the first time Sam’s considered that on paper, Elena isn’t the type he saw Nathan winding up with.
To be fair, he didn’t see his baby brother married to anyone. Brief as their acquaintance was, the Chloe Frazers of the world are – were far more the kind of girl Nathan went for.
But Elena’s got a sharp look in her eye Sam knows pretty well already, and yeah, he can see how Nathan picked Elena Fisher instead.
Taking the controller and jerking his thumb at Nathan, “I definitely can do better than him.”
“Okay with trash-talking him when he’s not awake to defend himself?”
“Absolutely. What do I press?”
Sam eats it a few times, earning some snickers from Elena, but he eventually sort of gets the hang of it. He can feel his eyes drying out and when the level scores come up, he realizes the TV is the only light in the dark room.
“Yeah, you definitely are better at this than Nate.”
“What can I say? I’ve always been the cleverer Drake.”
Elena snorts loudly, “Don’t push it.”
“Whatsgoinon,” Nate mumbles groggily from the other end of the couch.
“Don’t worry about it,” Sam and Elena say in unison.
Sure Nathan’s back asleep, Sam starts the next level.
“I’m coming for your high score next, Fisher.”
Grinning, “I’d like to see you try.”
Yeah, his brother’s got a wife, and Sam’s already getting pretty comfortable having a sister.
----------
After prison, he let himself go a bit. Sam doesn’t have too much of a problem admitting it to himself.
He’s done enough sit-ups and push-ups to last several lifetimes, so sitting around Rafe’s mansion and drinking his top-shelf liquor was more than fun at the time. But when he doesn’t bounce back as fast from India as he did from Libertalia, he’s a bit concerned.
At a bar with Chloe in Brazil, he mentions as much.
“This next job a little easier on the mortal flesh? Because I’m still wheezing from Asav.”
“You could quit smoking.”
“Har har, very funny.”
“The money’s good enough, it’ll be worth the wheezing,” she assures him.
“I don’t know, Victor Sullivan got something nice lined up in the old Soviet bloc that could be worth my time for less running.
Chloe snorts, “Yeah I passed on that one. This one’s better.”
“And split three ways,” he points out, none too passive aggressively.
He’s really trying not to be sore about Nadine Ross coming in, but sometimes it’s about her; sometimes about the Tusk going to the Ministry of Culture instead of the black market. But he’s over it. Mostly.
Leaning back in her seat, “Hate to break it to you Sam, but it’s 2018. Just go to the gym like the rest of us.”
Sam groans but she’s right.
Nathan may be catching up to him in age and he might have a decade on Elena, but clearly their gym time paid off in Libertalia. Sam caught Nathan picking up Elena like it was nothing so she could kick a Shoreline guy in the jaw.
So Sam doesn’t have anyone to do that with and Nathan’s been bulkier than him since he was sixteen, but deadlifting a hundred-twenty pounds could prove useful if he works at it.
Nathan snickers at him when he mentions he’s thinking about joining a gym and Sam’s about to tell him to fuck off when Elena intervenes.
“Take one of our guest passes first. I really think you won’t hate it as much as you think you will.”
“We’ll see about that.”
Sam’s skin crawls when they walk in; everyone’s young and fit and he’s definitely neither of those.
Come on, Drake, he tells himself. You want Chloe to call you first for gigs and if you have to keep working with Nadine, you don’t want to take crap from her.
He moves towards the weights, long denied in prison, but Nathan steers him in another direction.
“I’m not going to a class, Nathan.”
“It’s not a class, I promise.”
Sam rolls his eyes but allows himself to be led. He lets out an exhale when he sees what Nathan has in mind.
“No joke, they’ve got a climbing wall?”
“Not a bad place to start, huh?”
“Not at all.”
----------
Despite his sister-in-law’s polite request, Sam has yet to ditch the cigarettes. If anything was going to work, it should be his impending niece or nephew, but still, Sam hesitates.
Even if the habit has been chipping away at his life, so have most of his other lifestyle choices and this at least has been stress relief for over thirty years.
The news that Nathan’s been seeing a shrink for the past few years is concerning. Nathan can reassure Sam all he wants, but it’s going to worry him. The thought that whatever messed with mom’s head is messing with Nathan’s makes Sam feel ill.
God forbid, it could be messing with his.
Sam’d rather not think about it. So if Nathan gets a therapist and pills, can’t Sam keep his smokes?
He hangs around their house after Christmas. It seems rude to leave before New Year’s and his next lead doesn’t require him to be anywhere before mid-January.
They go out to a bar on New Year’s Eve; Elena enviously eyes Sam and Nathan’s drinks, but hoards the nachos to herself.
“I take it you’re not asking Victor to give up his Cubans,” Sam points out their hypocritical oversight.
Nathan laughs, “No one can tell Sully what to do, you know that.”
Sam scoffs, “And I’m so easily led?”
“Kinda,” Nathan shrugs, wincing when Sam punches his upper arm in retaliation.
“But Uncle Sam,” Elena says in mock baby voice and miming talking with her stomach, “What about me?”
“Low blow, Elena.”
“I’m not above it.”
Sam sighs, defeated. Taking the mostly empty carton from his pocket, he walks to a nearby trashcan, pitching it in with dramatic effect.
“Consider it a New Year’s resolution.”
“You know New Year’s is about the worst time to change habits, right?” Nathan points out.
Sam rolls his eyes as he sits back down. “You speaking from experience?”
“Ow!” Nathan jumps; Elena’s kicked him under the table.
“This means a lot – to all of us,” Elena says to Sam. “Thank you.”
“Don’t mention it.” It surprises Sam what it means to him too.
He doesn’t wake up with a hangover the next morning, but it is one of the worse feeling New Year’s Days he’s experienced in a while.
There’s a small box on the coffee table with a bow that catches the corner of his eye: nicotine patches. Sam reads the attached note in Nathan’s handwriting.
Consider it a belated Christmas present.
Sam inhales deeply. No time like the present.
The patch makes his left shoulder itch like crazy, but hopefully, it’ll be worth it.
----------
Sam feels paranoid; the creeping sensation like when a partner’s about to screw you over.
Chloe and Nadine have been cagey since he missed their last job. It’s not hard to believe Nadine would want him out, but he thought he and Chloe were closer than that.
The hotel rooftop bar isn’t a bad place to mull over his arguments: that the three of them make a good team and he brings negotiating assets to the table they lack. The pair of them taking longer than usual to get out of the treasure-hunting grime though.
Nadine emerges changed first; Sam sits up straighter in his chair. This’ll be a hard sell without Chloe, but he needs a head start.
“I’d say that went well today,” Sam says with a false brightness as Nadine joins him at the table. “Client’s amenable and all.”
“Hmm,” she sort of agrees, looking past him, back to the stairs.
“You can’t punch your way through everything in this business.”
Nadine’s eyes narrow at him in confusion. “What the hell are you talking about?”
“I’m saying I bring an important skill to our little team here. Whatever you and Chloe are thinking, you know I only bailed because of a family thing.”
Nadine leans back in her seat with a chuckle. Waving a dismissive hand, “Listen, I get family things. And relax, no one’s talking about cutting you out.”
Now it’s Sam’s turn to scoff. “I can’t believe you just compared the birth of my niece to your asshole dad.”
Nadine shakes her head, “Yeah, sorry about that.”
It’s sincere, but she’s distracted again, Chloe finally joining their party. Sam’s mostly focused on his palms not sweating as much anymore; he almost doesn’t catch it.
“I’ll go get the next round,” Nadine says hurriedly as Chloe sits opposite Sam, but her hand lingers on Chloe’s shoulder. Chloe’s eyes follow her to the bar.
It hits Sam like a truck. It all makes sense: the looks over the years, the recent awkward chuckles.
“Oh my God,” he hisses at Chloe. “You two?”
“Shut up,” Chloe reaches across the table to shove him, but her flush is undeniable.
“She’s so not your type,” Sam chuckles.
“Cause Nate ever was?” she laughs back. “You work this out on your own or did Elena talk to you?”
“Elena knows?”
“For the most part.”
“I’ll have you know I worked it out myself just now, no additional help required. You aren’t as subtle as you think.”
Chloe looks at him shrewdly, “So is it my turn to bug you about your sex life? You’re dressing more and more like Victor Sullivan these days, maybe you’re getting advice from him too.”
She cuts herself off with Nadine’s return, passing drinks around.
Sam’s grateful for the dodged bullet but can’t help himself. Raising his glass in toast, “To another successful job…”
Nadine moves to drink after the toast; Chloe knows better, eyes shooting daggers.
“… and congratulations, ladies,” Sam finishes.
Nadine chokes on her drink; Chloe shakes her head as Sam smirks through his glass.
“The Drakes really can’t help themselves,” Chloe sighs, but grins, seemingly relieved the secret’s out. Nadine looks like she’s considering hitting Sam, but a smile tugs at her mouth too.
“I’m serious,” Sam reassures them.
“Really?” Nadine asks.
“As a hole in the head. Next round’s on me.”
They all cheers to that.
He’s not out of the team, they seem happy, and as a bonus, this all but guarantees he’ll never have to share a hotel room with them again.
----------
It was a close call that made Sam fall off the wagon, not the cigar Victor begrudgingly gave him at Cassie’s birth.
When a rotted ceiling beam comes crashing down during a retrieval, enough was enough. Sam went through two cigarettes in a matter of minutes and eventually, his hands stopped shaking.
Nathan can swear until he’s blue in the face about the benefits of therapy, Sam knows it won’t take a shrink to figure out why he’s smoking again. No one makes any comments about it which means they’re not mad, they’re just disappointed.
Sam banishes himself to the far corner of his brother’s yard whenever he visits, making sure he’s well aired out before going back inside. He’s not proud of himself, but damn if he didn’t miss it. And it’s just damned annoying Nathan was right all along.
Halfway around the globe, away from disappointed family, Sam and Victor wait outside in an alley for a fencer. While Sam chooses to pass the time with a cigarette, Victor leans against the wall, arms folded.
“You made it longer than I ever did.”
Sam raises a skeptical eyebrow, “Victor, have you ever even tried to quit?”
Victor chuckles, “Nope.”
“Well, easier said than done.” Grinding the butt into the wet pavement, “Where the hell is this guy?”
The door eventually opens and while the fencer does authenticate Sam and Victor’s medieval Turkish gold, he seems to be wrinkling his nose at the lingering smell of tobacco.
Fine, everyone’s gotta be a critic.
Standing in the harsh light of the pharmacy aisle, Sam stares at what he assumes are nicotine patches. Maybe he should work on his Turkish next, but he’d rather not spend years in prison just to perfect it.
He’s halfway to the register when he turns on his heel. He really couldn’t stand the patch last time. He switches out for the box of nearby gum.
He’s relied on the ritual of cigarettes: at the orphanage, in jail, during job downtime, after sex, whenever. Maybe gum can be the next best thing.
If nothing else, next time he sees the family, he’ll have a clean conscious.
----------
“Eight, nine, TEN. Ready or not, here I come!”
Before Cassie, Sam never played hide and seek once in his life. Fortunately, he has enough relevant experience to make him pretty good at it. Problem is, Cassie’s a natural, even with Vicky trailing her everywhere. Sam thought the dog would be a giveaway.
“Hmm, I wonder where you could be?” Sam says, exaggerated. It’s cheap, but it usually makes her giggle and give up her spot.
But Cassie’s doing better today, wising up to his tricks. He gives it a good go for a few minutes, finally catching some movement under a hole in the side stairs.
Feigning giving up, “I think I’ll go inside – oh wait, who’s this?” he catches her small hand, pulling her through the hole. She squeals as Vicky wriggles out behind her.
“I made it too easy,” she laughs.
“Yes, you did. You really have to work at it if you’re going to stump your Uncle Sam.”
Cassie huffs her knotted hair out of her eyes, pure Nathan. A sharpness seizes Sam’s chest, not for the first time.
The Fishers talked a lot when Cassie was born about her resemblance to Elena and while Sam won’t deny it, he can’t help but notice the similarities to Nathan at the same age.
The laughter, the thoughtfulness, the attitude, but thank Christ, never the deep sadness; at least as far as Sam’s seen. All of those things in Nathan that made Sam instinctively ready to fight the world for, to die for his baby brother. Hell, he kind of did.
Sam would do all the same for Cassie without hesitation, but what’s more, he’s doing his damndest to live for her.
Cassie wriggles her way out of his arms, “Put me down, I’m thirsty.”
“Didn’t even give me a chance, huh?” he calls after her. He’s in no rush to follow, but a shriek from the porch sends him running. “What’s the matter? What happened?”
Cassie sits on the porch, seemingly fine, but foot up in the air.
“I got stabbed.”
“Speaking from personal experience, probably not, but let’s check it out.”
Sure enough, she did get poked with something: Sam notices a decently sized splinter in her foot.
“Let me go find where mom and dad hide the tweezers –”
“No!” Cassie sticks her lower lip out and Sam is way too weak for this.
“Okay,” Sam inhales, “Give me a good Hail Mary, Cassie.”
Cassie’s brow furrows in confusion; Sam silently prays, “Could use a little help, mom.”
Cassie does a good job of wincing back tears – Nathan again – Sam winces harder when the splinter’s pulled out. There’s the tiniest pinprick of blood, easily wiped away before the dog licks it off.
“There you go, your first war wound.”
“You’re weird, Uncle Sam,” Cassie sniffs, getting up easily enough and heading inside.
Sam exhales deeply, relieved, then catches the screen door before it slams shut.
Cassie’s pulling a can of soda out of the fridge when Sam takes it from her for himself.
“Hey! That’s mine!”
“Think again, kiddo. Your parents will already be annoyed how much sugar I let you have today.”
Instead he gets her a glass of water and they return to the porch with their drinks in hand and quietly watch the tide come in.
----------
At his age, crashing on friends and family’s couches is getting undignified. Nathan and Elena are way too gracious about it when Sam visits and Chloe and Nadine have been bugging him for years he needs a place.
“Oh, so you’ll come to the US and visit?”
“Not likely,” Nadine brushes him off.
“You’ve been to Hawaii.”
“Barely counts,” Chloe argues.
Cassie keeps talking about postcards she wants to send him from Drake and Fisher Fortune’s digs.
“Put Victor’s address down for me too. You don’t want it to show up at home just because that’s the best place to mail it to me.”
An idea hits Sam like a gun to the back of head.
“Hey Victor, how’s living in your neck of the woods? Not too pricey, right?”
“Oh no,” he says warily on the other end of the phone. “Did Nate and Elena put you up to this?”
“I’m hurt, Victor. I can come up with ways to bug you all on my own.”
Victor lets out a hearty guffaw, “Don’t I know it. And here I was enjoying my quiet retirement.”
The place Sam buys with cash in hand isn’t much bigger than his various apartments over the years, but there’s a garage that looks awfully promising for a motorcycle or two. He buys a bookshelf just for mom’s journals.
Sam brings a nice bottle of scotch over to Victor’s after he’s unpacked his few belongings.
“Consider this a housewarming gift.”
“You’re forty years late.”
Sam pulls the bottle back, “Fine. My place could use it anyway.”
Victor outstretches his hand, “Ah ah – I’m not one to look a gift horse in the mouth. Pass it here, boyo.”
Victor pours two very generous glasses and offers a toast to Sam. “To putting down roots and being two old foagies together.”
Sam chuckles, “Speak for yourself. I’m not retiring any time soon. One of us ought to be paying their bills.”
They sip at their drinks when Victor thinks out loud. “I tried with Nate, but I still can’t believe you brother settled first in Florida of all places.”
“So I got all the taste, huh?”
“I didn’t say that,” Victor wags his finger. “He found himself here eventually after all. And without Florida, there’d be no Elena.”
Sam can raise his glass to that. “Thank God for her, but that Nathan got out of there too.”
Victor smiles, “Amen to that.”
After another drink, and pleasantly buzzed, they sit in comfortable silence before Victor speaks again. “I appreciate the company, Sam. I really do.”
“Don’t mention it.” The thing is, Sam does too.
It’s not marriage and kids, or a legal job, or even really all that much stability, but he has a home, feels at home, for the first time in his life. Better late than never.
----------
“She’s not talking to me,” Nathan despairs when Sam meets him and Elena in the lobby. “I’m really not looking forward to this if it’s becoming a pattern.”
“Wait until she’s a teenager,” Elena interjects, looking up from her notes. “Then things might actually get rough for us.”
“Teenagers can be pretty mature,” Sam sticks up for his niece.
Nathan raises a skeptical eyebrow at him. Sam rolls his eyes. “Fine, you were a pill, but I was raising you when I was a kid myself and you turned out okay.”
“Strongly up for debate,” Nathan says sarcastically as Elena snickers.
It’s not like Cassie to be like this.
Sam makes his way up to the hotel room and raps on the door, “Hey, no hug for Uncle Sam?”
She doesn’t respond, but the door silently opens and an uncharacteristically sullen Cassie greets him. He musses her hair, a usual surefire guarantee at a smile. Her frown remains.
“What’s got you in a funk? I thought coming on digs was your favorite.”
“It is.”
“So what’s the matter?”
Cassie sighs, flopping dramatically on the bed. “Jenni at school said I’m a show off and a snob because of mom and dad’s show.”
Sam sits down on the bed beside her. “Excuse my language, but Jenni can go to hell. You’re not friends with her, are you?”
Cassie scrunches her nose. “No, but I also don’t hate her.”
“Don’t see a shiner on you. You give her one?”
“I don’t like fighting with people, but maybe she’s right and I am a jerk. I can’t go back to school and face her. And who says ‘shiner’ anymore?”
“Listen kiddo, I’ve known a lot of terrible people in my life and you’re not even close to being one of them. You’ve got too good a head on your shoulders.”
Cassie still isn’t appeased. “You’re just saying that ‘cause you’re family.”
“Hell yes, I am. Who knows me better than me? Or your parents? You should tell them what’s going on by the way, they’re worried.”
Cassie rolls her eyes but there’s a ghost of a smile on her face. “I know.”
“You serious about bailing on school though? I hear you on that. Victor’s been trying out classes at the community college. Those people don’t know anything.”
He’s not being subtle.
Cassie flips over onto her stomach, “What classes is Sully taking?”
Sam shrugs, “Some different European history ones. You could take them, easy.”
“Why don’t you, you dork?”
“I don’t need a degree for what I do.”
“What do you do?” she asks, eyes narrowed.
Sam chuckles, deflecting like he does every time Cassie asks. “A question for another time. Promise me you’re not dropping out of school though.”
She rolls her eyes again. “I’m not dropping out, I promise.”
Sam leans over to kiss the top of her head. “Good girl. You’re doing us proud.”
Screw what anyone else thinks, Cassie’s going far.
----------
After lunch, Victor insists he wants to go back to the hotel. Sam hovers until Victor shoos him.
“I just want to catch up on some correspondence I’ve been meaning to finish, nothing nefarious.”
“You better not be. Tell Nathan he has to pay up; he lost our bet.”
Victor shakes his head. “He of little faith, your brother. But then you were always the better gambler.”
“Or I believed in you more.”
Victor rolls his eyes, “Sure.”
Still, Sam isn’t deterred and won’t budge. Nothing’s happening to Victor on his watch.
“I’ll be fine Sam. Go enjoy yourself. I’m not going to keel over on you.”
Sam’s chest clenches, but keeps his tone light. “Well if you do, don’t say I didn’t try.”
“Wouldn’t blame you one bit.”
The door’s almost closed behind him when Sam sticks his head back in. “And tell Nathan to stock up the fridge with less shitty beer before we arrive!”
Victor waves him on.
Havana’s quieter in the late afternoon. Sam prefers the hustle and bustle but can admit this isn’t half bad either as he wanders the streets, reveling in the complete freedom of it.
From the corner of his eye, he spots two kids, probably indifferent to their parents’ rules dart into a narrower alley. It makes him smile to himself.
He turns in the direction of the sea breeze down to the water. After all, he promised Elena pictures.
Taking his phone out, he notices the call he ignored at lunch. His new contact, fueled by ego and rumor, contacted him about the possibility of El Dorado. Sam didn’t correct her, tell her she had the wrong Drake, but gently pushed for a different find in the wilds of Mexico.
Still, he’d like to see all those islands that led to El Dorado one day. He has Nathan and Elena’s notes on all the old finds. Even if there’s nothing left, they’re new unseen vistas to him.
Sam loses track of time staring out on the water for a while. Shaking himself out of the trance, he figures he ought to head back to the hotel and check up on Victor.
The calm washed over him, Sam thinks ahead. A few more days in Cuba; a good long visit with the family and then as long as he wants, anywhere in the world.