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Talbot couldn’t remember his life before Marlowe, not really. Faint memories of living in the streets, fighting those triple his size for a scrap of food would sometimes buzz in the back of his mind. What he did remember was being 12 years old, being held down as needles the length of his arm were forced into his skin. What felt like acid was deposited into his very bones, his body twisting and spasming as he screamed in agony.
After that, he was nothing but a slate.
The rough and tumble kid was still there, but more as a back street driver than anything. Whatever they had done to him had taken his very will, his body reacting much like a puppet tied to a string. At first, he had been angry, sometimes getting mocked whenever Marlowe caught the look deep in Talbot’s eyes. The rage of stolen youth, of his stolen body that took life despite his agonized screams, the rage of others in this sick Order that knew and merely commanded his body. Over the years, the rage quelled, quiet acceptance and silent obedience taking over as he aged. Marlowe seemed to notice at some point, setting about ordering his shell to learn all it could. Despite his upbringing, Talbot absolutely craved to learn. It didn’t matter the subject, he devoured whatever was given to him, only ever leaving Talbot craving more.
He wasn’t a fool, his supposed opposite was much like himself, intelligent enough to fool Marlowe more than once.
Sometimes he would think about this Drake he had heard of. He knew everything the Order could get its hands on about Nathan Drake, down to his eye color of all things. Yet, about the man himself, Talbot knew so little. Was he a jokester? Was he kind? Was he a fair and thoughtful opponent? Would he be able to see Talbot for more than just being a shell?
The questions died out, as finally, it was time to end it all.
Drake was bigger than he first thought, wearing a suit that seemed out of Drake’s comfort. In a sick way, Talbot was pleased when their plan backfired, and Drake escaped. The painful slap he received from Marlowe was less so pleasing, but he could do nothing about it.
Charlie Cutter falls to his spell so easily, those frightened and dilating eyes seeming to see Talbot, just for a moment. He so wished it lasted longer, hearing himself purring to Cutter for his notebook and gun. Grey eyes make contact with Nathan’s, the man idly commenting on how blue those eyes were before he took off, using his ability to teleport before the small group could see. Talbot doesn’t see Nathan again until he is drugged, the slightly younger man using his powers to pull Nathan towards him, cooing through the drugged haze that was Nathan’s mind. Watching as the dazed man, stumbling slightly as he stared ahead with glassy eyes finally appeared made Talbot feel terrible. Nathan most likely felt so trapped, his body as tense as a drawn bow as he is lead into an armored car for interrogation.
Talbot goes to sleep when he hears the half-terrified mumbles, he can’t bear to listen.
Sullivan isn’t so easy to control, yet is surprisingly observant. The old man is defiant, Marlowe often ordering Talbot to beat the older man until he tells them the next step. One night, Talbot is tending to a wound along Sullivan’s side, and the older man places a hand on Talbot’s shoulder. Grey looks into slate, and Talbot watches as Sullivan’s eyes widen just a fraction of a hair.
“Damn bitch.”
Talbot doesn’t pretend to understand, but the way Sullivan growls out makes him feel...heard. It’s not until days later, and Marlowe is eventually sinking to her death that Talbot can run. The moment she is gone, that voice in his head silence, Talbot bolts. With each clumsy step, he can feel everything. The gravel hitting his arms and face, his ragged breaths as he escapes a collapsing city, the blood pouring down his face and side. It’s all so terrifying and wonderful, and he almost doesn’t mind when he slips and falls. He can see the entrance of the city, so close and yet so far as he tries to jump and reach for his saving grace. Even if he doesn’t make it, Talbot will die and die under his own power.
The arm that grabs his nearly makes his heart stop, Talbot silent in shock as Sully hoists him up. He can see Nathan, face twisted in confusion and slight anger, but it’s only for a moment. They run as a trio, Talbot snatching them both by the arm and teleporting them up and to the safe edge of the crumbling city. The two groan at the shift, taking a few steps as Talbot remains, watching with a blank look on his face. Somewhere down there Marlowe’s body is most likely being crushed, and the thought fills him with utter delight. He can’t rip the rings from his fingers fast enough, flinging them into the chaos with an almost defiant breath. It’s been 21 years since he last could do something for himself, and it was absolutely wonderful . He is silent as a man comes to their aid with horses, Sullivan vouching for Talbot as he pets his horse slowly. Salim frowned but allows the pale man to join them, Ubar left to rest in its place deep in the sand, its dangers forever sealed. It’s not until they reach Salim’s camp that Talbot looks at his saviors, seeming to really take them in.
“You alright there son?” Talbot turns to him, staring at Sully for some time before opening his mouth.
“Absolutely.” He sounds hesitant and unsure as if he hadn’t spoken in a long time. Nathan is completely blown away at how different the other was, no longer standing tall with intent to kill. No, he looked so small now, constantly wringing his hands and looking around as if everything was new to him. His hair hung around his face, and his eyes had dark circles that seemed to be forming with each moment, framing grey eyes that were so curious yet frightened.
Ah, crap.
The three men slept deeply, Talbot gone when Sully and Nathan wake late the next day. He is found at the edge of the camp, sleeves rolled up as he calmly brushes his horse from the day before. It takes Talbot a moment to recognize he’s being called to, Nathan standing nearby and holding some water out.
“For me?” He asks curiously, grasping the cup as if it held the meaning to life. Nathan, still coming to terms that the Talbot he had hated for days had been nothing but a puppet, nodded. The liquid is drained, and Sully coaxes them both to eat something for breakfast. Talbot, now able to ask what he actually wanted to, began to ask Nathan what he enjoyed about history. Sullivan sits back and lights a cigar, watching as Talbot was like an excited child at having someone to entertain his thoughts. Nathan was laughing before long, pulling out his journal and showing Talbot things he had drawn or taken, the younger’s eyes wide in amazement. He had to wonder what Talbot had to be thinking, knowing Marlowe had snatched him up just to be a foil to Nathan. Excusing himself, Sully goes for a short walk, having no idea in hell what he was going to do with the kid.
The Order would break apart without Marlowe, and if Sully was honest, they didn’t deserve the kid back. If one thing got under Sully’s skin, it was the mistreatment of any child.
What the hell was it with him and picking up kids like coins off the sidewalk?
It’s a few days ride back to the city, and neither he nor Salim can count how many times they had to pull Talbot from innocently wandering off. Despite being in his early 30’s, he is so much like Nathan in that child-like curiosity. Elena is surprised but is pulled away as Nathan fiddles with something in his pocket. Talbot just follows Sully to his plane, innocently asking for a laptop. Sullivan has to admit he is impressed as Talbot easily drained the Order of all it had, distributing the funds in accounts only he could access, giving Sullivan and Nathan’s account a nice boost. It’s hours later when the couple, both smiling and wearing matching rings, join them. Talbot is asleep, one of Sully’s jackets draped over him as a makeshift blanket. Elena asks what’s going to happen to him, and the older man gives a shrug.
They’ll figure that out in the morning.