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It was a split-second decision to pick up Drake’s ring.
Elena doesn’t really – can’t really stop to ask herself why she did it until she’s watching Nate leap across old rusty pipes to find a way to turn the generator on so they can get the hell out of this place.
Alone with nothing else to do, Elena takes the ring out of her pocket to examine it. It’s not as though Sir Francis has any use for it anymore and with the promise of El Dorado somehow both within grasp and slipping away, they might as well have something to show for all their trouble.
Besides, Elena suspects Nate will regret leaving it behind later – the key to unspeakable treasure and a family heirloom to boot.
Shit. She can’t believe she’s starting to give credence to his obviously phony story about being Drake’s descendant.
Fact or fiction, Nate’s mourning over the corpse of the English explorer was real. He had the same sort of quiver in his voice when he told her Sully was dead. Except this time, there’s no room for mix up.
Even if she’s wrong and Nate doesn’t want it back, the ring shouldn’t be lost in some labyrinth on an unknown island. Maybe Elena can find a museum to donate it to when they get back.
Elena jumps at an echoing bang on the other side of the gate blocking the exit. It hasn’t been that long since Nate disappeared into the bunker, but Elena suddenly hopes with every fiber of her being he’s back.
“Nate? Nate is that you?”
Stepping closer, Elena stuffs the ring back in her pocket. More banging, and the gate is opened; she is greeted by the barrel of a gun.
Roman enters the control room, following his second-in-command. “So sorry to disappoint you, Miss Fisher, but it appears Mr. Drake has been detained. Would you mind coming with us?”
“I don’t suppose I’ve got much of a choice in the matter, do I?” Elena backs away as Roman steps closer.
With a slippery grin, “No. You really don’t, my dear. Now hand over your pistol.”
----------
Even if there has been time to turn back, Elena never wouldn’t anticipated following the tracks deep into the mountains of Tibet.
The snow practically blinded Elena as she emerged from the tunnel, nearly veering the jeep into the mountainside to avoid driving over the cliff.
Heart pounding, Elena looks over her shoulder. Amidst the swirling snowstorm, smoke rises from the precipice.
“Oh my god.” Leaping out the jeep, Elena dares as near to the edge as is able and gasps, “Nate!”
The whole way, Elena knew she was going the right direction by the wreckage alongside the tracks. She knows too much of Nate’s misadventures to mistake the overturned train cars and burning switch stations for anything other than thoughtless destruction left in his wake.
But this is on another level, even for him. The remainder of the train dangles over the edge of another cliff side, miles ahead of her. Elena abandons any hope of reaching the wreckage before it falls into the ravine below.
The longer Elena stands there, the more she wishes Nate’s hand will appear out of the abyss and cling to the ledge for her to grab.
Shivering against the howling winds, Elena knows it won’t. In her gut, she knows he is in that wreck and she has to push on if he has any chance of survival.
Climbing back to the jeep, Elena rifles through the trunk for a winter coat among the supplies. It is sheer coincidence the jeep she hijacked is filled with mountaineering gear and just plain dumb luck one of them appears to have been packed specifically for Chloe. Though it likely fits like a glove on the other woman, Elena is relieved it’s a little roomier on her.
Grateful as she is for Chloe’s coat, Elena still can’t fathom why Nate felt the need to rescue her. Elena will admit to a twinge of jealousy, yes, but this is beyond that. Chloe turned on them – betrayed Nate – and pulled a gun on them. She was ready to abandon Jeff back at the temple.
She has acted nothing but selfishly since the moment Elena met her. Elena can hardly believe that was all barely a day ago.
Somehow, the only explanations that Elena can see are either Nate’s hero complex has gotten even worse, or Chloe’s really got him wrapped around her little finger.
Either one is more of an explanation than why she’s here. But that hardly matters now – what matters now is finding Nate.
Elena leaps back behind the wheel, except the jeep fights her every step of the way. The engine whines against the wind and the wheels spin out on the ice. The damn thing doesn’t even have a winch.
“Shit,” Elena hisses as it rolls backward. And again.
Nothing else for it, she continues on foot. Glancing back, “Hang on, Nate.”
The wreckage groans in response.
She loses track of time and the trail in the storm. For all she knows, she’s going the wrong way, but dark structures emerge from the snow. Hope bubbles in Elena’s chest, though sense tells her they are likely abandoned.
Quickening her pace, Elena calls out, “Is anybody out there? Can you hear me? My – friend needs help!”
Someone shouts back. She cannot understand them over the wind, but she’s found someone! Or someone’s found her! She doesn’t really see the difference, nearly frozen stiff.
The voice beckons her toward a warm glow and Elena stumbles inside.
A Tibetan man ushers her toward the hearth with gentle hands, still speaking, though Elena can’t blame the storm for the language barrier anymore. She tries to glean what she can from context clues and hand gestures.
“Please,” her voice is horse from yelling. “Can you help me find my friend?”
He gestures for her to stay put and Elena nods. It’s cozy here, but Elena cannot allow herself to relax, not while Nate’s still out there.
The man returns followed by another; even older white man dressed in Tibetan garb. They speak rapidly together, each of them glancing warily at Elena in turn.
Finally, the older man addresses her, “Are you with the invaders in the valley?”
Elena is stunned by his soft-spoken yet harshly German-accented English but shakes her head as she unsticks the lump in her throat.
“Why should we believe you? People only come to this mountain this one purpose –”
“To seek out Shambhala, I know. But I just came to help my – friend.” She flinches; she keeps using it, but Elena has no idea where she and Nate stand with one another. Laying all her cards on the table, “He caught a ride on that train in a misguided attempt to rescue someone.”
The man mulls over what she’s told him before translating it for his companion, who seems equally unwilling to aid her any more than he already has.
“Look if you won’t help me –” Elena tries to stand but her body resists, her muscles too tired and too sore to move another inch.
“Careful. You really ought to rest now. Besides, Tenzin has already been out to the wreck. It is a miracle he found even one survivor. He was carrying this –”
Elena’s eyes widen as the man unfurls the phurba dagger from a protective cloth.
“From your expression, I can see, you are familiar with this artifact. Does it perhaps belong to your friend?”
‘Belong’ is a bit of a stretch where Nate’s concerned, but this is the best sign she’s had so far, Elena’s not about to let it slip away. “Can I see him?”
“I suppose nothing else will set your heart at ease until you know for certain. Come.” With a word to Tenzin, the older man waves Elena into another room. “Is this the friend you were looking for?”
Her eyes readjust to the dimmer lighting to see Nate stretched out on a cot; his torso tightly bandaged with fresh linens. His face is pale, but he’s breathing. Nodding, Elena cautiously approaching the bedside so as not to disturb him further.
“I shall let you have a moment, but then there is more we should discuss.”
Elena doesn’t know whether to hit Nate or kiss him. She settles for holding his hand for as he lets of a shaky breath.
“What the hell happened to you?” She knows full-well she won’t get an answer until he wakes, but at least there’s some hope of that now.
After a moment or two of watching his chest rise and fall, Elena takes a deep breath of her own.
Standing again, “All right, you stay here. I’ll go get a few more answers from our host. I won’t be far.”
Returning to the other room, Elena finds the older man by himself, examining the phurba dagger in the firelight.
Without turning to face her, “I haven’t seen one of these in seventy years.”
Elena may not have Nate’s extensive knowledge of history, but she knows enough about the recent past to guess what brought this man here. She’s seen enough movies at least. “I didn’t realize the Nazis had any interest in Tibet.”
He grimaces but doesn’t deny it. “They had interest in anything which would grant them more power, but we shall come to that. How about we start with a proper introduction? My name is Karl Schäfer and yes, I was a former SS agent. And you and your friend are?”
“Elena Fisher. I’m a journalist. And my friend’s Nate – Nathan Drake. He’s an… explorer of sorts.”
“Would you like to sit down, Miss Fisher? It appears we have much to discuss.”
Elena exhales, unsure of his company. But so long as Nate is bedridden, she ought to learn what she can.
----------
Elena hasn’t even put the phone down before she’s begun regretting her agreement.
She wasn’t lying. She is looking forward to seeing Sully but letting him and Nate run amok in Yemen has trouble written all over it.
She knew from the moment she saw his name on the caller ID something was up. Every fiber of her being was screaming at her to tell Sully ‘no’. She wanted to say ‘no’, but whatever brings him and her husband to Yemen, Elena couldn’t bring herself to make it any harder on Sully because Nate didn’t have the nerve to ask her for it himself.
Through everything, Sully has been nothing but his disarmingly charming self. Still staunchly on Nate’s side when it comes to not revealing too much of their plans, but Elena doesn’t blame him for not wanting to get in the middle of things.
He can call it ‘plausible deniability’ all he wants, but there’s no way Sully doesn’t know Elena said the word ‘divorce’ the last time she saw Nate.
She was surprised to find him at home and less surprised to find him stuffing his travel bag with gear. Frustrated by his stubbornness, she thoughtlessly hurled the word at him in anger and Nate walked out again.
While Elena will be glad to see Sully, her stomach twists up inside at the thought of seeing Nate.
Elena inhales, pushing down an ugly wave of tears. Despite the damage his withholding silence has done, Elena misses Nate. She suspects seeing him will hurt even more.
This is a bad idea, she thinks again.
She submits the paperwork for their press passes anyway. Whatever their designs in Yemen, at least she can keep an eye on them.
Elena picks their badges up at the consulate, her wedding ring glinting in the sunlight as she reaches across the counter.
She inhales so sharply the clerk raises a curious brow.
Thanking him, Elena darts out of the consulate back to the car.
This was a bad idea. I shouldn’t have agreed to this. I’m not ready to see him again…
She shouldn’t have lashed out when she noticed his wedding ring was missing, refusing to hear any flimsy excuses. Though it remains difficult to believe the man whose kept Francis Drake’s ring safe in his possession for twenty years could have misplaced his wedding ring, Elena regrets accusing him of losing it on purpose.
Regrets snapping at him that if taking off the ring was so easy, getting a divorce shouldn’t be all that hard. It stung when he said he would sign whatever papers she drew up, if she took off hers.
But even in her lowest moments, Elena can’t bring herself to do it. She tells herself it makes her work here easier, but really, she’s clinging to some last shred of hope Nate will come around.
That he’ll remember how she urged him to keep looking for El Dorado and discover the truth about the Chintamani Stone. That she could help him if he’d just talk to her.
With a steadying breath, Elena climbs into the jeep and heads for the airfield.
She may not be ready to see him, but she can be civil. The rest depends on him.
----------
This might just be the end of the line for them. Or at the very least, time for Elena to find a way off this crazy train, but if there isn’t a station, she’ll have to leap. Elena can’t exactly sleep on her decision when everything is set against allowing her to sleep.
She stares at the ceiling, watching the fan spin pointlessly and all too aware of the sweat on the nape of her neck. What she wouldn’t give for the jet lag to kick in or just a moment’s peace of mind.
But it won’t come, not now that Sully isn’t here to distract her from her racing thoughts.
Nate lied. He broke his promise. He’s treasure-hunting again. He has a brother.
Each of those thoughts may as well be one of the blades on the ceiling fan, spinning around and around with no effect.
Nate lied. He broke his promise. He’s treasure-hunting again. He has a brother. He broke her heart.
Finally, she can’t stand it anymore and swings her legs over the edge of the bed. She wipes the back of her neck with her hand to no avail, just spreading the sweat across her shoulder blades. Staring at her hand in disgust, as if it had betrayed her trust too, she is confronted by the wedding band still around her finger.
An old fight echoes in her ears, drowning out the other rotating thoughts. If she’s serious about divorce, taking the ring off should be easy.
But this isn’t like last time. Elena knows, except on salvage jobs, Nate hasn’t removed his once. He was even wearing it as he tore her heart out for a second time. Jury’s still out if that makes his betrayal easier or harder to bear.
But just like last time, Elena is unable to slip the ring from her finger. Despite the pain burrowing into her chest, she just can’t.
Not like this. Not with him running off toward almost certain death.
She couldn’t live with herself not knowing what became of him. She curses her journalistic instinct, pushing her to know the whole story before passing judgement. The whole story…
Elena snatches up her phone. Who did Nate say his brother owed for breaking him out of prison? Hector Alcázar?
The latest search results are all news articles date six months back, all reporting Alcázar dead. Elena’s mind races.
Nate’s been lied to – manipulated for what reason Elena can’t even begin to guess. Damn him for refusing to learn how to use a simple search engine.
She absolutely can’t let him run headlong into danger, knowing what she knows now.
Quickly dressing, Elena pounds on Sully’s motel room door, “We have to go after them.”
----------
A printer with a built-in fax machine is the last thing Elena expected to be grateful for in the wake of Libertalia. But when the permits come through, she can barely contain her excitement.
She’s certain her fiendish grin will give the game away, but Nate’s new medication has him in a haze and he doesn’t notice a thing.
She takes advantage of him going to see Sully one evening to bring her offer to Jameson; he whistles at the number.
“Is it sufficient?”
On top of the quoted value of Jameson Marine and its assets, Elena added a little extra to compensate for whatever nostalgia their friend might have for the company he built from the ground up.
The last thing Elena wants is to shortchange him, but she has to stretch the gold as far as it will go. Besides, they’ll still need some for renovations and reoutfitting, cameras, a crew; the list of expenses goes on, but Elena’s afraid she’s getting ahead of herself. She has to prioritize.
“It’s more than generous, Elena, but what the hell are you and Nate gonna do with a salvage company? Why are you even bothering with this place? The pair of you aren’t exactly the mundane types – if you don’t mind me saying.”
Elena senses another question on the tip of his tongue, Where did you get the money?
She knows Nate has hinted about the treasure hunting racket to Jameson, but whatever he’s revealed about his misguided past, Elena’s sure it doesn’t cover the half of it. Jameson’s more likely than most to believe the truth about the money, but he never asks.
Instead, Elena procures the permits and hands them to Jameson to review. “You’re right. We’re not really interested in the company as a salvage operation, but what I want us to be doing isn’t far off.”
“What sort of stunt did you have to pull to get these?” He stares at the permits agape.
“No stunt. You’re welcome to join us, if you’re interested.”
Chuckling, “Far be it from me to prevent spicing up one’s marriage. Though this isn’t typically the sort of thing folks mean by that.”
Another grin pulls across her mouth, “Most people aren’t married to Nathan Drake.”
“That’s for sure. I’ll gladly sign the papers, if this is really what the pair of you want. Just clear up one thing for me, what do you plan to do with this place after you finish the Malaysia job?”
“Well, if all goes according to plan –”
“Hang on. ‘According to plan?’ Your husband doesn’t think that far ahead.”
“No, he doesn’t. But one of us had to start at some point.”