The only thing Sam could feel was his heart pounding in his chest. He ran hard, bursting through the front doors of the factory and tearing down a side street towards where he knew Charlie was waiting. The sedan came into view and Sam saw the driver's door swing open and Charlie climbed out.

"Sam! You made it!" he shouted. Sam slowed as he got nearer, dropping his pace to a fast walk and gasping for air. Adrenaline coursed through his veins and he couldn't find words to reply to Charlie.

"You all good, mate?" Charlie asked. "You hurt? What happened to Eli?" Sam just stared at him mutely.

"He's dead, isn't 'e," Charlie said flatly. "Marlowe shot him?" Sam processed the question well enough to shake his head 'no'.

"So, you shot 'im." Sam nodded, pressing his lips together in a thin line. Charlie sighed.

"Get in the car," he said. "But gimme those first." Sam slipped the rifle and his holster off and handed them to Charlie, and then slid into the passenger seat. After Charlie had stowed the firearms safely in the trunk, he joined Sam in the cab and started the car.

"You gonna say anythin'?" he asked Sam. Sam didn't respond in any way. He couldn't move or think clearly, and he felt like there was a lump in his throat that prevented him from speaking. "I guess not."

Charlie resigned himself to a drive of silence, but he couldn't help glancing at Sam every minute or two while he drove. The whole way back to Charlie's flat, the Drake's position and expression never changed. He stared out the windshield, his face completely unreadable.

At the flat, Sam flew out of the car and headed up the front steps before Charlie had even turned the car off. When Charlie got inside, he found Sam stuffing all of his belongings into his duffle bag.

"Where d' you think you're goin'?" Sam paused his packing. "You leavin', jus' like that? No sleep, no goodbye, no explanation? Not even a 'thank you for settin' this all up an' buyin' illegal guns an' makin' sure I don't die an' keepin' me from killin' our partner'? After all we've been through you're jus' gonna run off again?" Sam straightened up slowly, but he waited for a moment. Charlie wasn't done.

"You know, I didn't 'ave to 'elp you with any of this. I coulda backed ou' after we lost Nate. I shoulda learned my lesson with you Drakes, you both take everythin' too far. You might even be worse tha' Nate. At least 'e knew t' stop before someone 'e cared about died. And maybe I shouldn't 'ave 'elped you but 'ere we are. So, I'm not jus' gonna let you walk outta 'ere without saying anything to me." Sam's eyes widened slightly and a look of hurt flashed over him. Charlie realized he'd gone too far.

"And, Sam," he continued, calming his voice a bit, "see, I did stick around an' we've been through a lot together the past couple o' months, 'cause I care 'bout you and your family. An' I've watched you go through this whole thing an' I can probably make a wager a' what you're thinkin' right now."

"Try me." Sam's voice sounded hollow and cold. Charlie tried not to let his surprise at Sam speaking overtake him and he quickly gathered his thoughts.

"I won't put words in your mouth," Charlie said after a moment. "But I will ask you this. Did killin' Marlowe and Eli satisfy you? Was it all you ever 'oped for?" A hundred different emotions flashed across Sam's face but quickly his expression hardened again. He shoved the last few things into his bag, zipped it shut, and slung it over his shoulder.

"Everything and more," he finally replied, staring directly at the older man. "Goodbye, Charlie." He pushed past his friend and went straight for the front door. He pulled it partially open, and then paused and looked back. Charlie stared at him, ultimately left speechless.

"And thank you. You didn't need to stick with me this far." He slipped through the doorway, but just before he pulled it shut behind him, he heard Charlie's parting words:

"Had to. Couldn't bear to 'ave a world without a Drake brother in it."

**********

When Sam landed in Miami the next day, his phone had dozens of missed texts and calls from Cassie and Elena. He deleted all of the notifications and shoved his phone back into his pocket, wishing that he'd left it on airplane mode. He drove home in a stupor, and as he pulled into the driveway, he realized that he couldn't call to memory anything from the drive. The house came into sight and he had barely parked when he noticed Cassie flying out of the front door at full speed.

He got out of the car just before she slammed into him, already sobbing.

"Oh my God, Sam, we didn't hear from you for so long, and Charlie said you'd left but he didn't know where you'd gone, and you didn't answer your phone..." She collapsed into him, dissolving into tears. Sam held onto her tightly for a long moment and when he glanced up, Elena was approaching them.

"So, you did it." Sam nodded numbly. "Are you okay?" Elena's brows furrowed in concern and Cassie let go of him, stepping back to get a good look at him.

"'m fine," Sam mumbled, and then crumpled to the ground.

**********

Sam blinked. He could hear muffled voices and he laid on something hard. He was disoriented for a moment until his hearing began to return and he opened his eyes, only to be blinded by the sun.

"Sam? Can you hear me?" Cassie asked frantically. "Hey, Mom, I think he's waking up!" In the background, Elena spoke on the phone.

"How long will it be?" she was saying. "Okay, we'll do the best we can. My- my daughter's with him. I- I think he's waking up...okay." She knelt down next to Sam. "Hey, Sam. How do you feel? Does anything hurt?"

"No, I don't think so," Sam said, his voice straining to speak.

"He says nothing hurts," she said into the phone. "Sam, are you dizzy?"

"Probably." Elena didn't reply to him right away as she listened to the other end of her phone call. "Okay. Yes, we do. Sounds good. Thank you." She hung up and directed her attention to Cassie momentarily.

"Kid, can you go get a bottle of water and something easy to eat? See if we have any of those snack bars or something." Cassie nodded and took off towards the house. "Okay, Sam," Elena continued. "I'm going to help you sit up and then we're gonna talk a little, huh?"

"Okay," he agreed. She clasped her hand on his forearm and slowly helped him sit up against the tire of his car. He leaned his head back on the wheel well, closing his eyes and trying to let the vertigo pass.

"When was the last time you ate or drank anything?" Elena asked. Sam heaved a shrug.

"Dunno. Yesterday mornin'? Night before that?" he slurred. Elena dropped her head for a moment in exasperation and then looked up at him again.

"Okay, and when was the last time you slept?"

"I tried, like, two days ago. Dunno if I actually did."

"And you flew and drove home like this."

"Bingo." He took a huge breath.

"Why do you do this to yourself?" she asked. "God. You're not moving until you have whatever Cassie brings, and then when you're feeling up to it we're gonna help you into the house to lay down. I talked to the nine-one-one operator and once you woke up, she said that if we thought you needed the hospital that we needed to drive you ourselves. It's so far for the ambulance to come that it's quicker if we just go."

"I think I'll be good," Sam replied. Elena looked dubious, but at that moment Cassie appeared around the front of the car and handed Elena a water bottle and a couple granola bars.

A few minutes later, when Sam had finished all of it, Elena and Cassie got on either side of him and helped him stand. His head swam, but he tried to shake it off and they slowly made their way inside. In the spare room at the end of the hall, they lowered him onto the futon. He didn't even have the energy to roll onto his side. Elena left quietly, but Cassie stayed behind and climbed onto the bed next to him. She sat up against the headboard right next to him and he heard her whisper,

"Just try and rest. I'll stay."

Sam's heart swelled, grateful for Cassie's empathy and solace. He had been unaware until that moment how much he needed the comfort of her quiet presence. For the first time since his brother's death, he didn't find it hard to drift off to sleep.

**********

When Sam woke up, he was alone, and starving. He rubbed his eyes and glanced at the clock. He tried to remember what time he had fallen asleep, and some quick math told him that he'd been out for roughly sixteen hours. Daylight streamed through the blinds. He stood up carefully, keeping one hand on the wall to steady himself, and then shuffled out into the hallway.

Elena sat at the kitchen table working on her laptop and she looked up at Sam as he wandered into the room.

"Oh my God, why are you up?" she asked, jumping to her feet. "Let me get you something to eat. Did you sleep okay?"

"Slept better than okay," he said, sitting down. "I'm good. Just...starving."

"What sounds good?"

"Don't care." She set a glass of water in front of Sam and got to work toasting a bagel for him.

"Care to fill me in? You okay to talk?"

"Do I have to?" Sam asked.

"No, I guess not," she replied, faltering slightly.

Sam stayed in the kitchen long enough to eat his bagel, slathered in peanut butter, and he downed the water. Feeling a bit stronger, he rose to his feet, and made for the front door.

"Where do you think you're going?" Elena asked, putting a hand on her hip.

"To the office," he said listlessly over his shoulder. She didn't try to stop him. Sam wandered off the porch and headed towards the second, smaller house on the property that Nathan and Elena had been running their company out of for some time. He opened the door slowly, feeling unreasonably scared of what he would find.

Nothing had changed from the last time he'd been in there, over three months ago. He wasn't even sure that Elena and Cassie had touched anything. He ran his eyes over the walls, covered in magazine and newspaper clippings detailing the whole family during their twenty years of archeology work. Nathan, Elena, and Cassie's smiles beamed down at him from countless photos of them at dig sites or posing with a particularly special find.

Sam ran his fingers over a few of the photos and felt a painful twinge in his chest as his eyes fell on some older ones, when Cassie must have been a baby and only Nathan and Elena were in the photos. Seeing his brother, not just alive, but young and energetic, with a personality that shone even in pictures; it nearly moved him to tears.

He tore himself away from the first wall and made his way farther back into the cottage. In the back room, some maps and paperwork were still strewn on the table. Bookshelves lined the back wall, and there was a wardrobe, of which Sam had never seen inside. A set of keys had been carelessly strewn onto the table, and without a second thought, he scooped them up and began trying them on the wardrobe's lock.

On the third key, the lock clicked.

Sam drew the doors open and found himself staring at shelves covered in notebooks, strange relics, and souvenirs. He had never seen any of it and could only assume that it was Nathan's collection from his years of treasure hunting while Sam himself was in Panama. Then his heart lurched when he recognized one single thing. A white leather journal was shoved in, almost hidden among everything else. Sam drew it out and began to flip through it. Page after page was covered in his mother's handwriting, detailing her research into Sir Francis Drake and his treasure. He stopped flipping when a picture slipped out from between the pages and fell to the floor.

Sam bent down and picked it up, staring at it. He couldn't breathe properly. He found himself staring into the eyes of himself and Nathan when they were children; a polaroid photo that they'd taken the night they had gone looking for answers forty-five years prior. Sam slid to his knees and let the notebook fall. He gripped the picture tightly in both hands, unable to take his eyes off of him and his little brother.

Sam's face scrunched up and he couldn't fend off the tears this time. For the first time since Nathan's death a month ago, Sam broke down. Still on his knees, he leaned forward, curling around himself, and sobbed until there were no more tears to shed and all he could do was gasp for air.

His chest convulsed uncontrollably as he struggled to calm down, and after a while he was able to catch his breath and spent a minute or so sitting up, his whole body quivering slightly as he fought to get his emotions in check. A tiny voice beside him stirred him back to reality.

"Sam?" He glanced to the side and his tired, red eyes met Cassie's.

"Are you gonna be okay?" she asked softly.

"I miss him." Sam gulped, and continued. "And I didn't want to think about how much I miss him."

"Me too," she said. Her expression was kind and gentle, and her eyes prompted him to go on.

"I thought that killing them- Elijah and Marlowe- would make me feel better," he said, words suddenly pouring out of him. "So, I did it. I got Marlowe. I looked Eli in the eye and shot him, point blank." If Cassie had a reaction to that, she didn't show it. "He begged me to. He was dying already. It almost wasn't fair to either of us."

"And it didn't make me feel better. I didn't feel anything," Sam added, "except more guilt, and I walked away from them completely unsatisfied."

"I don't think the answer to killing is ever more killing," Cassie observed, choosing her words carefully. "And we couldn't have told you that before yesterday because you weren't ready to hear it."

"I didn't give you a choice in that," Sam said. "I know that's not on anyone else."

"Yeah," Cassie agreed, and Sam shot her a look of surprise. She shrugged. "What? You said it, not me. All me and Mom and Charlie could do was our best to make sure you didn't get yourself killed. You weren't about to listen to anyone."

"And now I've killed people, even someone I used to call my friend, and it was all for nothing 'cause it sure as hell didn't bring Nathan or Victor back." He tilted his head back to look at the ceiling and sighed heavily. "I wish I'd figured that out sooner."

"You needed to learn that yourself," Cassie said. "Just like this."

"Yeah. Christ, kid, when did you get so wise?"

"I've had to grow up a little this summer," she said, and when Sam looked at her, though her expression remained calm, her eyes were brimming with tears.

"That's an understatement. I think we both did," he said. "And man, do I wish your dad could see you now. C'mere, kid." He lifted his arm and she moved over so that he could put his arm around her shoulder. "You are so strong and smart and kind, and you are so much like him. Those genes just skipped me, I 'spose." He gave a wry laugh.

"Give yourself a little credit, Sam. You wouldn't have done any of this if you didn't care about him. Or us. Let's just find less...destructive ways to work on our anger in the future."

"Again, when did you get so smart? Yeah...yeah, that sounds like a good idea." He turned his head to the side and kissed her hair. "I love you so much, sweetheart."

"I love you too, Sam," she said. "I'm glad you're here."

"Me too." Sam stared at the open wardrobe before them and changed the subject. "Did he ever show you any of this stuff?"

"Once, but only 'cause I snuck in to look and he caught me in the act. But he didn't like talking about it very much," Cassie said.

"I've never seen any of it. I didn't know he still had Mom's journal. Or this picture." He held up the polaroid. "And it's a bummer that he kept all this locked up, you know? He did such great things that went completely unrecognized. I mean, c'mon, the guy found El Dorado, Shamballa, Iram of the Pillars, Libertalia, and all he has to show for it is a few trinkets and a handful of gold." Sam waved his hand towards Nathan's collection.

"Then let's tell people." Cassie craned her neck to look up at him. "Mom put the business on hold after...you know. But when she's ready to start again, let's tell people about Dad. A biopic or something. Get it on the Travel channel or Discovery."

"That is such a good idea," Sam said after a long pause. Genuine excitement bubbled up in him. "Cassie, that's genius."

**********

A little while later, Sam and Cassie dragged themselves to their feet and Sam told her to head back to the main house while he put everything away. He watched her disappear out the front door before he turned back to the wardrobe and he looked everything over once more. The journal still laid on the floor and he clutched the picture in his hand. He picked up the journal, found the right page, tucked the picture safely in the book, and stowed it where he'd found it.

Sam grabbed both wardrobe doors and started to close them, but then he hesitated. After a couple seconds he pushed them open again, pulled the keys out of the lock, and tossed them back onto the table. Then he turned back to Nathan's collection.

His little brother had kept everything hidden from the world for his entire life; all the wild misadventures, all the monumental discoveries, all the times he'd saved the world from yet another villainous aristocrat. However, as much as Nathan tried to conceal it, it was undeniable that it had taken him down a path that had led to all the best parts of his life: Sully, Elena, Cassie, the family's company. Sam reached out and brushed a gold coin with his fingertips. He knew from Nathan's stories that it had come from El goddamned Dorado itself, authentic Spanish gold.

Everyone knew Nathan Drake from National Geographic, but no one knew Nathan Drake, discoverer of Shamballa. He didn't take any credit for finding El Dorado and sinking it to the bottom of the ocean. Henry Avery's treasure remained buried, unknown to anyone in a sea cave off of Madagascar. Sam gave everything in the wardrobe one final look and nodded to himself. Nathan wasn't around anymore and his humility couldn't get in the way of Sam sharing his story with the world. His brother had a legacy so much bigger than he'd ever realized and Sam vowed to not let anyone forget the name Nathan Drake.

**********