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Stealing notepads from motels becomes common. Money’s tight to the point of nonexistent, so Nate doesn’t expect to buy any paper for his doodling habit, but stakeouts while Sam talks his way in and out of jobs are long and boring, and Nate has to pass the time somehow.
Nate used to draw the adults and other kids at the orphanage as well as odds and ends all over the church. Now he draws passing strangers as he loiters outside buildings he’s not old enough to enter, waiting for Sam to emerge. Then notepad and pen get shoved in his back pocket and the Drakes move on to the next place.
One day, a job goes south on account of some missing information and Sam starts including Nate more to cover his ass. No one’s gonna notice a kid.
Sam shoves a bound notebook in Nate’s hands, “Listen, I’ll do the talking, but you write everything they say down. Think you can do that?”
Nate lets out an indignant huff. Hell yes, he can.
As Sam rattles on with the guy hiring him, Nate puts his feet up against the edge of the table and starts imagining their namesake: meeting Queen Elizabeth, exalted with gold.
Nate doesn’t want to meet any queen and while piles of gold would be great, mostly he wants to go places and not have to look over his shoulder or think too hard about what’s next. Thank God that’s Sam’s job.
“Nathan!” Sam’s voice tears Nate’s eyes away from the page and yet another Renaissance ruff. “You get all that? We’re going to Columbia,” Sam says, striding for the door.
“Hey Sam, you know what else is there right?” Nate calls out as he scrambles up after his brother.
He smirks. “Why do you think I said yes to this?”
Nate’s journal is quickly filled with ideas how to chase down Drake’s expeditions.
It’s Nate’s first own treasure notebook and it’s far from his last.
----------
They take awkward group pictures on a disposable camera throughout Dawn’s sleepover party, faces smeared with lip gloss and ice cream cake. Elena smiles widely, but she’s pretty sure she blinked when the flash went off.
Still wound up by sugar, no one’s falling asleep in the basement.
“There’s a ghost over there!” Jen yelps.
“No there’s not,” Dawn says uncertainly, looking at the dark corner.
Elena’s heart is pounding as she winds the camera. If there’s something there, it’ll show up in the photo. They all scream and laugh when the flash goes off.
Unable to sleep, the PlayStation goes on and they play until eventually everyone nods off.
Elena blinks, exhausted from sleeping on the basement floor. She shoves the camera in her backpack along with her pjs and forgets about it.
Aunt Anne visits the next month and spots the camera gathering dust on Elena’s dresser.
“You still have a few shots left. We should finish this off and get them developed.”
Elena loves adventures with her aunt, even if it is just to the park across town. She takes some pictures of ducks on the pond, of an interesting statue, and even sneaks one of strangers on a bench.
“Go stand by that tree,” Elena directs Aunt Anne. Aunt Anne beams for the picture; Elena’s sure it’s her best one yet.
They drop the camera off at the one-hour photo counter; Elena aimlessly and anxiously wanders the pharmacy aisles watching the minutes tick by. She practically runs to the car ahead of Aunt Anne, eager to tear into the envelope.
The photos from the party are washed-out but Elena can still make out the fun she had that night.
“What on earth’s this?” Aunt Anne asks, holding up a dark photo of a washer and dryer.
“We thought we saw a ghost,” Elena explains. They both laugh at the ghostless photo.
It’s the photos from the day in the park that are the most exciting.
“You’ve got a really good eye for this,” Aunt Anne says, looking at a picture of a bird on a branch.
“Thanks,” Elena beams.
“Mind if I keep this duplicate of me?” Aunt Anne holds up the snapshot. “One last good portrait, before my amazing hair disappears with chemo.”
Elena swallows. There have been hushed phone calls, almost out of her hearing, but her aunt’s health has been an open secret for months now.
“Please do. I’m glad you like it.”
“Of course I do sweetheart,” she leans over to plant a kiss on top of Elena’s head.
The next time she visits, Aunt Anne hands Elena a wrapped package.
“You’re spoiling her,” dad says as Elena rips through the wrapping paper.
Aunt Anne rolls her eyes, “It’s my prerogative.”
Elena barely hears them with a brand-new, real camera in her hands. It’s gorgeous.
“What do you say?” mom reminds her.
“Thank you, thank you, thank you!” Elena squeals, throwing her arms around her aunt.
“Stick with it Elena, and I think you’ll be a great photographer. And you can have this if you promise to take your aunt on your photography adventures.”
Elena grins, “I promise.”
----------
The best thing about carrying his journals around is Nate can generally pass for an art student while casing a joint.
Museum guards don’t pay much attention to people who appear to be sketching the medieval icons when he’s actually taking note of security cameras and errant clues that might lead Nate and Sully to greater treasures.
There’s only so many flat and dour faces Nate can copy before the saints get boring.
If Sam were here and not currently serving a brief sentence, Nate might have pulled a face to match the art. It would get a chuckle out of Sam then a mild telling off for bordering on blasphemy. As if Nate cares; Sam’s way more concerned about himself on that front.
Nate sees Sully leaning over the display of encaustic tile and Nate begins sketching him instead.
It’s funny how Sully’s Nate’s most constant companion – aside from Sam – but he’s never thought to do a study of the older man. Sully’s definitely aged since their chance meeting, but he still looks like Sully to Nate.
Nate’s so caught up in his drawing he doesn’t hear Sully walk up behind him. “Making me look a bit grey, huh?”
“Cause you are these days.”
“And who’s fault is that? Minding you, you delinquent?”
“That sounds pretty self-inflicted to me.”
“You’re probably right,” Sully sighs, watching the guard like a hawk.
The guard’s attention seems have been peaked by Sully’s use of the word ‘delinquent.’
“Meet you in another gallery,” he mutters under his breath before slinking away, leaving Nate to his own devices.
Nate abandons his Sully study, flipping over to a blank, fresh page.
Dutifully he takes another look at the gilded wood board covered in saints. This time he notices one of the saints seems to be pointing to a particular corner of the room they all cluster in.
Nate smirks to himself as he quickly copies the pose in his journal. Time to figure out what building the artist was referencing and with a bit of luck, the next step in their treasure hunt.
----------
It’s surprising how much Elena takes to her documentary filmmaking course. After spending all of high school deeply involved with her still photography, she never figured she’d be in to shooting film.
Having a friend in the class certainly helps. Elena bonded with her project partner Liz faster than she has with anyone in her life. Their similar sense of humor and interest in the larger world made it easy.
Elena’s deeply grateful for it – she was worried about how far she was moving away for college, despite her desire to see and do more. Being friends with Liz immediately assuaged her fears.
While she’s still thinking of going places in the future, for now, Elena’s a college freshman fighting the urge to fall asleep in her 8 A.M. art history course.
Liz meets her outside after with fresh cups of coffee.
“You’re a lifesaver.”
“And you’re the crazy person who decided to take a class before noon.”
“I like it!” Elena protests, working through an enormous yawn.
“Uh huh,” Liz says skeptically, attention drawn to someone walking across the quad. Elena looks at Liz closely; she’s been interested in this girl for a month now.
“You gonna go find out her name?” Elena asks, taking a sip of her coffee.
“Fine, I will,” Liz says, shoving her coffee into Elena’s hand and striding in the girl’s direction.
Elena smiles to herself. Finally.
She sets the coffee down on the bench beside her and digs through her backpack for her camera. She owes Anne some bright and cheery pictures of sunny Florida compared to the grey Colorado November.
There’s some shots of palm trees and the campus buildings and one sneaky shot of Liz grinning with the other girl.
Eventually Liz rejoins Elena looking very pleased.
“How’d you make out?” Elena asks, shoving her camera back into her backpack.
Liz waves a slip of paper in front of Elena’s face. “Got Jane’s number.”
Elena laughs, marveling at her friend’s ability to just go for it. She’s working on that herself.
Handing Liz her coffee back, “Come on, heartbreaker, I think we have some video editing calling our names for now, Jane or no.”
----------
Sully’s out of the picture by the evening. Man’s smart enough to know when to step aside, leaving Nate and Elena to it.
Even after sex, Nate isn’t really tired. It’s a bit surprising considering the past few days and the amount of sex he’s had in the last twenty-four hours.
Elena sighs contentedly as she climbs off him – the fact he already knows this much intimate detail about her is practically unprecedented. And he’s not just flattering himself.
Elena gets off the bed, picking up a couple stray items as she heads for the bathroom. Nate’s just as happy to sit satiated until their inevitable next round.
Elena returns with tank top and underwear on, hair pulled back up, grabbing her laptop out of her suitcase. Definitely not where he was expecting the evening to go.
“Don’t look so put out,” she laughs, crashing down beside him on the bed. That his mood is so obvious to her bothers him somewhat.
“Exhausted already?” he deflects.
“I’m surprised you’re still – actually, no I’m not. Besides, some of us have to write emails explaining why there’s no footage for this episode.”
“Losing it over a bridge isn’t a valid excuse?”
“Not in the real world.”
Nate idly watches Elena frown in concentration, taking in the parts of her he’s kissed at least a dozen times already, but hasn’t really looked at. Blindly, he grabs for the blank journal on the bedside table that he never got to fill out for this trip.
His sketch of her in three-quarters profile comes together more quickly than usual. Nate’s drawn the other girls in bed before, but somehow he feels like he’s being more careful in his study. Besides, sketching her writing work emails is hardly what he’d call romantic.
“What are you doing?” Elena asks, tearing her eyes away from the screen.
Nate flips the journal her direction.
“Oh,” she flushes in surprise at seeing a drawing of herself from the collarbone up.
“I don’t have to keep going if you don’t want me to,” Nate offers, though he’d be disappointed to leave it unfinished.
“It’s actually kind of flattering,” Elena laughs, maybe a still a bit self-conscious. “I’d say I’d never guess you were an artist too, but this has definitely been an expectations-defying trip.”
“It has its uses,” Nate explains. “Usually for this kind of job I’d actually keep track of everything in one of these,” he waves the journal to illustrate his point, “but Sir Francis took care of this one and it’d be a shame to waste the paper.”
“Don’t let me stop you then,” Elena giggles and resumes her own work, though she’s definitely trying to give him more interesting angles.
Nate tries doodling a woman across the way at a café a few days later, but she keeps turning into someone else at the forefront of his mind. He knows for certain it’s Elena’s eyes he’s drawing when she calls him about the follow-up gig.
----------
There are dirty dishes in the sink calling Elena’s name.
Nate’s stir fry was almost obscenely good tonight and Elena ate enough to feel just pleasantly sleepy. But post-dinner cuddling on the couch was called off early on account of Nate’s early shift, leaving Elena bored and unmotivated to finish cleaning.
There are still hundreds of photos from their last couple trips she needs to cull. She needs to figure out what she wants to make prints of, what she wants to send to her parents. It’ll be more fun than reading the brief for her next article at least.
Elena focuses on pictures of them. Some of the faces Nate’s pulling in the shots she made him pose for make her giggle; it was entirely his intention and it worked then and now. She can tell by her own expressions when she’s exasperated by Nate dragging her in front with him but still having a good time.
There’s also retaliatory photos of him blissfully unware Elena’s taking photos of him looking goofy. And the occasional shot where Elena’s entire purpose was to get a good one of his ass. Those are just for her.
Glancing at the clock, it’s well past ten. Even without the expectation of being in an office, much less at the crack of dawn, Elena figures she ought to be in bed at a somewhat reasonable hour.
The dishes make her feel grimy so Elena hops in for a quick shower, only it doesn’t particularly make her feel more ready for bed. In fact, she’s wide wake.
Standing dripping in her towel, Elena grabs her phone off the counter. She drops the towel and opens the camera, giggling to herself. This is only slightly ridiculous, but she’s never done this before. It wasn’t a thing the last time she was with someone who wasn’t Nate.
She takes the pictures, pulls on her pajamas, and crawls into bed with a snoring Nate, satisfied for the evening.
Home alone the next day and plugging away at work, Elena opens her phone to see the previous night’s artistic choices. She snorts in amusement at herself. There are some that turned out rather well.
Impulsively she texts one to Nate and tries unsuccessfully not to think about it.
[Nate ❤ 1:05 PM] Uhhhhhhhh
[Nate ❤ 1:06 PM] Is that what
[Nate ❤ 1:06 PM] I think it is
Elena giggles to herself, toes curling. She forgot she’s contending with a tiny, pixelated version on Nate’s phone.
[Me 1:07 PM] It could be
She quickly sends another picture. She takes his radio silence as a good thing this time.
Nate’s home on the early side. The door bangs quite loudly behind him.
“Evil,” he calls down the hall. “You are evil, Elena Fisher.”
Elena grins as he tackles her down to the couch with a very passionate kiss.
----------
Nate explained how finding Avery – finding Drake was about completing his mother’s work.
But when they looked at the journal after Libertalia, Elena found out chasing history wasn’t the only thing Nate had inherited from Cassandra. Seeing Cassandra’s drawings made Elena’s lungs seize up.
Of course, Nate never breathed a word about his artistic talent coming from somewhere, Elena knows it’s how he is, and she understands why.
“Nate,” she’d whispered, heart aching. He never said anything; just squeezed her hand and gone on to the next page.
Nate and his mom. Elena and her aunt. They never got to see what their gifts turned into.
With Cassie’s due date ever closer though, Elena feels compelled to flip through its pages again. She hasn’t since Nate first showed it to her and it’s not like he’d stop her, but it’s his.
It takes no time at all for Elena to start crying just looking at it, but she’s bloated and hormonal. She got misty-eyed at a soap commercial the other day, so it’s only natural.
But when she gets to the tucked-away Polaroid of Nate and Sam, she absolutely loses it.
Nate comes running in seconds later. “What’s wrong? Is everything okay? It’s not Cassie, is it?”
Elena sniffs loudly and waves the Polaroid.
“Oh,” Nate exhales tentatively.
Elena lets out a watery chuckle, “I know, I know, I did this to myself. I was just feeling close to her and –”
“It’s okay,” Nate bends down to kiss her forehead.
Elena glances down at the Polaroid. It’s faded and almost certainly will be a ghost of what it used to be one day. Still visible, Nate’s grin in spite of his bruise breaks her heart.
“I think it’d be nice to frame this and have it out,” Elena thinks out loud; Nate makes a noise of skepticism. “What?”
“It’s been doing fine where it’s been nearly thirty years,” Nate says.
“It’s your only childhood picture. I asked Sully and he doesn’t even have anything from the early days,” Elena argues. Why her heart’s so set on this now, she can’t say.
“Compromise: it can come out when Cassie knows everything.”
They agreed Nate’s past, their past is to remain a secret until Cassie’s old enough. The irony that the same secrets were a disaster on their marriage isn’t lost on Elena, but they’re determined to make Cassie’s childhood as carefree as possible.
Besides, it’s only fair Nate decides how much of his childhood stares him in the face.
Elena nods in agreement; Nate rubs her stomach in consolation. Like clockwork, Cassie kicks at Nate’s touch.
“Every time,” Nate chuckles.
“She knows it’s you,” Elena says. She’s convinced of it.
“Yeah, well she’s her mother’s daughter,” Nate continues to rub, despite the barrage of kicks. “Hey between the two of us, there’s no chance she’s walking away with one measly Polaroid.”
“We’ll wallpaper her room with embarrassing pictures,” Elena chuckles.
“She’ll hate us.”
“She certainly won’t be going into art or photography. We’re totally going to be those parents aren’t we?”
Nate’s competitive side showing, “How dare you. She has to pick one.”
“I hope you’re good with her being a photographer because I’m a way better teacher than you.”
Nate fakes indignation and they both laugh until Elena’s tears have dried.
----------
When Cassie gets to the age people start gifting her crayons and markers, Nate takes a trip to the art store. He’s been fine with whatever he could get his hands on over the years, but maybe some nicer supplies would be good for record-keeping for the show.
Elena’s off directing the crew to another location while Nate plops himself in front of a wall covered with ancient carving and script.
“What are you doing?” a little voice asks at his elbow.
Nate looks up from his sketches to Cassie watching him intently. “I’m drawing the wall.”
“Mommy took a picture already.”
“Boy, I can always count on you to keep me humble,” Nate chuckles. “Mommy did take some pictures, but sometimes I notice things she doesn’t when I draw them.”
“Oh. Okay,” Cassie wanders away, satisfied with the conversation.
Nate gets it. It’s not the most exciting thing in the world for a toddler, but it would have been nice if she stuck around.
Except Cassie returns with her markers and a notebook Nate recognizes as Elena’s producer’s notes, plopping down and drawing big, colorful versions of the carved faces.
“Did you get permission to use that?” Nate asks, eyebrow raised.
“Yes!” Cassie cries indignantly. Nate isn’t totally sold on her answer, but then, Cassie’s only ever been an honest kid.
Nate’s losing focus on his own work and glancing over at Cassie’s surreal interpretation of what’s in front of her. On the corner of his page, Nate doodles Cassie’s round, little face. He hasn’t drawn her really as much as he should have, but then it probably means he’s spending more time with her.
“What do you think?” he shows her the portrait for approval.
“Pretty good,” Cassie says before becoming reabsorbed in her work.
“Yup, you definitely keep me humble.”
Cassie’s own illustration seems to be focusing more on a niche in the wall Nate hadn’t been paying too much attention to when he compares it to his own work.
Curious, he stands up, walks over to the wall, and puts his hand in. There’s the telltale grinding of stone against stone and a small doorway pops open.
“Look what you found, Cas!” he grins. “See, the camera doesn’t get everything.”
Cassie squeals in delight, abandoning her drawing to investigate their new find further, though they have to resist getting too far ahead of the crew.
And when they get home a month later, Cassie’s drawing goes straight on the fridge.
----------
Yet another round of emails goes out about potential dig sites. It’s the usual tangled logistics: permissions with local governments, collaborations with universities, hand-wringing about budget.
Elena pushes her glasses up to her forehead to rub her dry eyes. The house is quiet: Nate’s dropping off Cassie at a friend’s for the evening and Vicky’s asleep at her feet.
Elena needs a stretch. She drops her laptop on the couch and walks to the front of the house, feet carrying her out the door. Hopefully there’ll be something to inspire her in the office.
Nate’s keys to the cabinet are out and on the work table; Elena shakes her head. He’s really got to be better at putting them away if he wants to keep Cassie out of this any longer.
Still, it’s not like she can’t look at all this whenever she wants. Almost like she needs to, Elena gravitates towards where the important treasure journals are. They’ll be no help with her current conundrum, but something’s calling to her.
She walks back to the house, curling up on the couch with Vicky and her reading material, nostalgia rushing over her.
They do enough these days to fill both their needs for adrenaline, although Elena certainly doesn’t miss the life or death stakes – damn if she doesn’t wish her camera survived the Spanish colony; that she had one on hand for all the other places they ventured.
Vicky barks before Nate’s through the front door.
“I’m back!”
“Back here,” Elena half-heartedly responds.
“Blugh,” Nate crashes face-first into the couch. “I was told on no uncertain terms we’re on for the next sleepover. I cannot handle that number of kids in one place.”
Elena chuckles, running her hands through his hair. “Why do I feel like you felt the same way even when you were that age?”
“Because you get me,” he says muffled into the cushion.
She snorts. Truthfully, Nate loves being the ‘cool’ dad, even if it means suffering the pop music Cassie and her friends blast.
Lifting his head up, “Why’d you pull these out?” he grabs the Shambala journal, flipping open to a random page.
“Thinking about going back, I suppose. I know it’s not the most advisable thing and in a couple cases, impossible since someone destroyed them –”
Nate has the decency to look sheepish as Elena keeps going, “But you know, maybe one day when we’re retired-retired, I can go back and get pictures of all these place, so it’s not just your drawings.”
“I like that idea. Everything should be less booby-trapped but the climbing’s gonna suck.”
“We’ll manage,” Elena smiles, turning to a page of details of Iram and a sketch of herself.
They’ve definitely had harder times, but revisiting those months apart reminds her how lonely she was then.
Nate senses her mood, squeezing her hand tight. “Sinkhole or no, I’m gonna figure out how you can see what’s left of Iram. It was gorgeous Elena.”
She smiles. “I bet it was.”
----------
A good deal of Cassie’s childhood is spent in Elena’s lap while she works behind the camera. Elena knows her daughter is watching and taking things in, but she’s never sure of how much. At that age, Cassie’s way too young to be handling expensive equipment.
Cassie has about as much interest in drawing as other kids, but never with the intensity Elena observes in Nate.
She loves her history though, and that’s good enough to share with both her parents.
Sully’s in town when they wrap up the dig for the summer. Watching her own parents age, Elena can’t help but privately fret over Sully slowing down. Not when he’s been as active as them at times.
Sully doesn’t put on the false bravado anymore, but Elena’s sure Nate still thinks Sully’s who he was thirty years ago.
She cracks open a couple of beers, fully intending to have a word with Sully, but he catches on as soon as she hands him the bottle.
“Don’t start fussing darlin’. I’m too set in my ways now to change. Old dog, no new tricks.”
“You’d be surprised what we’ve gotten Vicky to learn,” Elena points to the dog.
Sully rolls his eyes just as Cassie calls out ‘smile!’ Instinctively Elena poses, arm around Sully; the camera shutter clicks. That’s when she notices Cassie’s using one of Elena’s more expensive cameras.
“Did I say you could use that one?” she asks, eyes narrowing.
“Dad said I could,” Cassie says sheepishly. “I wanted to take some nice pictures.”
Count on Nate to give Cassie free reign just because she pouts.
Sully chuckles, “Don’t think that was the right answer kid.”
Elena sighs. No harm, no foul. “Let me at least show you how to use this properly, okay? There’s a bit more to it than point and click.”
“I heard that!” Nate calls out from inside.
Still, the picture of Sully and her is Elena’s favorite when she finally develops the photos. Cassie’s got a good eye.
----------
The cabinet’s unlocked. Nate hasn’t felt freer in years.
He dreaded the unburdening of everything again. Exciting as it is that Cassie’s in on the family history; the adventure that made them who they are, the sadder truths linger.
The wave of adrenaline and emotions die down after a few days and it’s back to life as normal. Cassie fritters away her summer vacation on the beach with Vicky and her friends. Elena camps out in the wing chair, feet curled under her, sorting out details with the show editors. Nate hunches over the small finds, comparing details against other digs in the Yucatan.
Mom’s journal remains out. Nate really ought to put it away, but he can’t quite bring himself to yet. He promised years ago he’d put the picture of Sam and him out when it was all done, but something is missing. He stalls for months.
True to her promise, Elena littered the house with photos of Cassie, of them, of their journeys. Nate’s put up a few of his drawings, but never had much of a compulsion otherwise. His art’s always been for him.
It shouldn’t be like that anymore.
After Elena passes out for the evening, Nate digs through a box of journals he’s intermittently used since Cassie was born. He flips through until he finds a drawing he likes: Cassie at age seven.
God, she looks like Elena.
Nate tears the page out. Somehow there are a couple of frames not in use in the house. He sets the drawing and the Polaroid side-by-side on the dresser.
Arms snake around his waist, a kiss lightly touches the side of his arm.
“I love it,” Elena whispers.
Nate squeezes her clasped hands. He does too.