The house seemed too quiet. It was eerie. Sam laid on his back on the futon he had started calling home, still unfolded into a bed in the Drake's spare room. He rubbed his face rather violently, trying to halt the tears he could feel burning behind his eyes. The silence was driving him crazy and it had only been a couple hours. His brother talked constantly, always cracking a joke. This home had never been devoid of laughter until recently, and Sam hadn't truly appreciated it until it was too late. Never again would he hear Nathan's resounding laughter or another wise-crack pass his lips.

None of those thoughts resonated with Sam the way that he felt they should. If he was grieving, he didn't know it. All he felt was anger and betrayal, and his brother's death was the fuel to the fire. It frustrated him to no end that Elena and Cassie had none of the drive he had. As far as he could tell, they had both shut down mentally.

On the contrary, Sam had a job to do; justice to serve. As far as he could tell, they were useless to him. He itched to get planning. There was no time to waste. Because this wasn't the end; it wasn't a failed mission with no way forward. There were still people out there who needed to pay the price. He couldn't let Nathan's sacrifice be in vain.

At the moment, taking down Charles Marlowe seemed about as daunting as stepping out into the kitchen, which is to say, very. Several continents away, Marlowe was probably still plotting Sam's death. Only a couple walls over, Elena was also almost certainly formulating his untimely demise. The latter seemed like a much more real threat. Sam rubbed his face harder.

And then there was the matter of Elijah. The names for him that ran through Sam's mind; traitor, weasel, snake, a modern-day Judas Iscariot...and those were the tame ones.

With a sigh, he rolled onto his side and looked at the clock. It was nearly dinnertime and he didn't know if Elena planned to cook, but he did know that all three of them needed to eat. He felt like, out of the three of them, only he was fully functional, and he wondered briefly how long it would take for the initial shock to wear off. Currently, his numbness to the situation kept him going. The thought of reality striking terrified Sam.

He dragged himself off the futon and shuffled down the hallway to the kitchen. The room was dark and empty, so he flipped on the lights and started opening cupboards and the fridge, searching for anything he could cook with. In just a little while he had boxed mac n' cheese and frozen hot dogs boiling on the stove, and a sheet pan of vegetables in the oven. He mindlessly stirred the pasta and relaxed slightly, feeling just a bit of pride at managing to get a hot meal on the table for his family.

Sam almost jumped out of his skin when Elena appeared beside him, pulling some dishes out to set the table. She didn't even look at him, let alone speak to him. He watched her set out three plates and bowls, and then headed for the water glasses. In the midst of pulling a third one out, her hand slipped and the glass crashed to the ground, shattering instantly. She gave a small cry of alarm and frantically crouched down, trying to pick up the larger pieces with her bare hands. Sam moved quickly, grabbing the garbage can and hurrying to her side.

"Careful, you'll cut yourself," he heard his voice say. He crouched beside her and put a hand on her shoulder, hoping to guide her away so he could clean it up in a safer manner. He felt her shoulder quiver and Elena sniffed.

"Are you okay?" he asked softly, and immediately felt very stupid for asking. "Elena, c'mere." He tugged on her shoulder gently and she followed, slumping awkward onto him. Sam slipped all the way to the floor and held on to her tightly, letting her cry.

"I'm sorry," he whispered. "I really am. I'm so sorry. I never meant for this." She didn't answer, but he considered it a win when she didn't pull away either. "We'll get through this. I'm sorry."

It was a long time before her breathing calmed and she replied in a tiny voice,

"I thought we were through with this life." Sam closed his eyes and sighed,

"We all did."

"I don't know how we got through what happened with...and now..." She sniffled shakily.

"I know."

"It's not fair."

Sam couldn't argue with that.

**********

A pair of socks came into Sam's field of vision and he looked up. Cassie stood above them, wrapped in a blanket and staring between the two of them and the broken glass. She looked a bit wide-eyed but otherwise her expression remained blank. Sam wasn't sure what to say and he didn't know if Elena had even noticed their company.

"I'll get a broom," Cassie said, backing away slowly. Sam relaxed his grip when he felt Elena trying to push away from him and he allowed her to crawl off of him and stand up. He grabbed the edge of the counter and pulled himself up next to her.

"Go sit down," he murmured to her. "I'll clean this up." She walked like a zombie towards the kitchen table, bumping into the edge of the counter along the way and almost falling into her seat. Cassie returned a moment later with a broom and dustpan, and Sam got to work cleaning up.

"Dinner's probably cold," he sighed. Cassie was holding the dustpan on the floor as he swept up the last bit of glass. "Just microwave it. And- oh God." He leaned the broom against the counter and ignored it when it clattered to the floor. He flew to the oven and pulled out the vegetables. They were burned, but not completely inedible. He set the tray on top of the stove with little care.

"Dinner's served," he said, exasperated.

"Thanks for cooking, Sam," Cassie said in a tiny voice. Elena mumbled something that sounded like 'thank you' as well, but she avoided eye contact with both of them. Sam waited until they were both seated with hot food before he served himself, and they ate in silence.

**********

Late that evening, Sam called Charlie. It rang four times before Charlie picked up.

"Sam, y' realize it's bloody four o'clock in th' mornin'?"

"Shit. Sorry."

"Damn ya, mate. Well, I'm awake now, wha' the 'ell do ya want?"

"I-" Sam didn't have a good answer. He wasn't even sure he had an answer. "We have a job to finish."

"Bloody 'ell, Sam. Haven't we done enough?"

"They're all still out there and they have to pay."

"You're starting to sound like them. When is your family goin' to learn from all the crooks and pirates you've dealt with over th' years, and realize that revenge and greed just gets you killed?" Sam gripped the phone tightly. Charlie talked sense, but it was going in one ear and out the other. He wasn't in the mood to be rational.

"Goddammit, Charlie. They killed Victor, they- they killed Nathan! We're just gonna let them get away with that?"

"No, you call the authorities, mate."

"And tell them what exactly? Victor and I were breaking into a house when they decided to shoot us up? Nathan and I were going through with a hit mission on Marlowe with illegal weapons and he tried to kill us in return? They'll throw us in prison right alongside the bad guys."

"What do you plan to do about it?" Charlie asked. "What's your grand idea tha' you're so hell-bent on?"

"I don't know, I just- I have to do something. Now. They can't get off scot-free. Will- will you help me figure it out? Please?"

"With your track record? I'm startin' to think all of us are on your hit list too." Charlie's voice sounded flat. "I'm not gonna be part of making your suicide mission a reality."

"Fuck you, Charlie."

"Oi, was tha' too far? Sorry tha' I'm the only person who'll talk to you honest. I'm goin' to bed, Sam. Call to me again when your head's on straight."

"Charlie, wait." There was a pause, but the line hadn't gone dead yet, so Sam continued. "Can you, please, just do one thing for me. Because I'm not in London."

"I can't guarantee anything."

"Can you go see Elijah Douglas. If he's even alive. Please." Sam waited for his response with bated breath.

"What d' you want me to say?"

"I don't care. You'll figure it out." Charlie huffed.

"I'll see what I can do."

"Thank you," Sam forced himself to say.

"Get some sleep, mate. Clear your head a bit," Charlie replied.

"You, too."

**********

Charlie wouldn't have known he was at the right room, had Elijah's name not been on the whiteboard on the wall inside. He had never met the other man before and didn't know what to expect. From how Sam had spoken about Eli over the past few days, he didn't expect the handsome young man before him who looked just as surprised to see Charlie in the doorway.

"You must be-"

"Eli. Who are you?" Charlie's face twisted in annoyance.

"I'm askin' the questions today," he said shortly. "But if you must know, I'm Charlie Cutter. I'm a friend o' the Drake's." Eli's face paled slightly. Charlie continued,

"What can you tell me about wha' happened in the Underground a few days ago?"

"Man, I can't help you," Eli said. "I swear I don't remember anything. I'll tell you what I told the cops yesterday. I remember getting to London and I had a meeting with Marlowe in his lair or whatever, and then I woke up in here-" He motioned to his hospital room. "-with a hell of a headache and no idea how I got it."

"An' how much did they tell you? The cops."

"Nothing. They just wanted my story. Which I don't have." Eli's eyes darted around the room and he shifted uncomfortably.

"It'd be best if you didn't lie to me," Charlie said, glaring at him and crossing his arms threateningly.

"Sorry if I sound suspicious, but you're scaring me. I don't know anything. I don't remember any of it. I'm not lying, I swear."

"Fine," Charlie sighed. Eli wasn't going to talk, or else he really was telling the truth. Didn't matter. He hadn't sold them out to the cops. "If the cops come back and question you for any reason, you don't tell them a word about anythin' we're about to discuss. You'd best keep on not rememberin'."

"I won't. Promise."

"The Drakes snuck into Marlowe's little hideout to try an' kill him, but he got word tha' they were there, an' they got caught, an' you held Sam Drake a' gunpoint."

"I- I didn't know that." All the color drained from Eli's face.

"An' Sam fought you and knocked you out on th' floor. He thought he might o' killed you on account o' how hard you hit."

"That explains the headache."

"You best not start joking with me," Charlie said. "You know what else?"

"The cops told me that a man died. Was it Sam?" he asked.

"So, you weren't completely honest with me." Charlie's face hardened. Eli looked horrified at his slip and opened his mouth to speak, but Charlie cut him off.

"It wasn't Sam," Charlie said. "You shot his brother, Nate, on Marlowe's order."

"If I did then I didn't have a choice," Eli said, becoming defensive. "Marlowe- he's got so much dirt on me, if he tells me something then I. Do. It."

"So, you can be loyal to him but not your friends? It's okay with you to double-cross Sam and Nate but not the actual bad guys? What a piece of shit you are." Charlie shook his head and turned away from the kid with his hands on his hips.

"Charlie, it's not like that. He's threatened me and my family 'cause he caught me spying on him undercover a few years ago."

"An' how hard would it 'ave been to shoot him instead of Nate?" Charlie shot back, turning quickly to face him again.

"I didn't...think of that." Almost immediately his cheeks flushed with embarrassment.

"O' course you didn't."

"Man, why are you here?" Eli asked. "To fill in the blanks so I know just how terrible of a person I am? Believe me, this is not the only thing I have to feel guilty about."

"Sam asked me to come see you. I don't know why. But I do know tha' he's planning to take down Marlowe, an' more likely than not, he's gonna die trying. There is nothin' you can do to make up for what you did to the Drakes, but I do know we can't go after Marlowe without you." Charlie watched Eli's jaw tighten and the young man looked directly at him.

"What do you need me to do?"

**********