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Talbot and Sully are up early the next morning, heading out to some specialized shops deep within the older part of town. Slipping on the mask of his former role was far too easy for Talbot, the shopkeep thinking nothing as they prepared him a fresh suit. Donning the old emblem of the Order made him break act once he and Sully were out of sight. The rings given to him were heavy on his shaking fingers, stilled when Sully took them into his weathered hands.
“Breathe kid, I need your head in the game for this.” It wasn’t much, but Talbot knew he needed to do his best. The suit sits in the closet when they get back, Flynn taking Talbot out for some drinks with Nathan and the others. The warden wouldn’t be prepared for them for another day, Elena’s and Flynn’s contacts arranging a meeting under the guise of working for the Order. It’s a small hole in the wall type place, most of them not getting many looks as they order. Nathan, Elena, and Sully take a table for themselves, Nathan barely speaking to either of them. He’s drowning in self-guilt, Elena squeezing his hand while Victor keeps his arm on Nathan’s shoulder. Flynn tries not to stare, instead of focusing on making sure Talbot didn’t drink himself under the table. The other was nervous, muttering in a language that Flynn couldn’t even begin to guess, let alone understand. When he’s had enough, Flynn gently coaxes him up and out the door. The city is quiet now, and they walk a long way to their hotel, just taking in the sights.
The prison in the distance is an eyesore, and Talbot feels sorrow.
He and Marlowe had been there before, Samuel Drake none the wiser of who they were. Marlowe had found his situation amusing, commenting on how both brothers being in pain was a delight. It had never sat well with Talbot, and knowing that Samuel was so close it seemed...unbearable. If you were to ask the surrounding residents of the hotel rooms currently occupied by five strangers, they would tell you tension lingered all night.
Nathan and Elena are placed near the prison the next morning, necessary backup just in case something went wrong. Flynn drives the expensive rental Talbot has procured, Sullivan remaining inside when they pull up to the visitors’ lot. The air is almost cold when Talbot emerges from the car, the warden looking uncomfortable at the cold yet gracious smile on Talbot’s face.
Now, they wait.
The sun beats down on the four who wait, an hour, then two ticking by with no word. No alarm is raised, no guards are shouting, yet Nathan almost fears them. Elena has to hold him back when, four and a half hours later, the rental car pulls out, rolling to a gentle stop in front of the main gates. The large doors swing open, and two men emerge, one making Nathan Drake’s world grind to a halt. Samuel, in his mind, has never aged since that day ten years ago, still the grinning older brother ready to do anything for Nathan.
This Samuel is older, shoulders hunched slightly like he is being held down with a weight only he can burden. Faint grey is already pulling at his temples, and scars litter his face, some adorning a now crooked nose from untold beatings. Nathan is barely able to spy some sort of tattoo before Sam enters the rental car, and Nathan moves to meet at a rendezvous point. It’s far from the prison, in some back alley that hides the car from prying eyes. Sully is getting out when Nathan and Elena hop over a fence, cigar already lit as Samuel climbs out. Suspicion and confusion vanish when navy eyes lock onto Nathan, going wide as baby blue meets them.
“Nathan…?” Samuel Drake is in utter shock. He awoke that morning, ready to begin another day of weaving his way out of beatings and hoping to get a book from the library. Instead, he is pulled from the prison yard midday, given some clothes and told to change. The soft cotton is almost jarring after so long, and he is bewildered to be delivered to a man he had recalled seeing only once before. The warden looked almost afraid, and Samuel thinks he’s done for as he’s led outside for the first time in 10 years. Seeing Victor Sullivan inside the car nearly stopped his heart, and Sam grins for the first time in years. The man, whoever he was, seemed to fade in the background as Sam grilled Victor as to what the hell was going on. He’s only told to wait, and now here he stood, looking at his baby brother. Nathan looks older, so much older, and like he’s about to keel over, hands trembling as he stared at Sam like he’s a ghost. He doesn’t blame him, legs moving of their own accord as he all but races over to Nathan, yanking him into the tightest hug he could muster. Nathan tenses under him, and Sam relaxes just a little, remembering how many times he had done so when injured. Despite being 40 years old, Sam doesn’t try to hide the tears in his eyes, just hugging Nathan as close as he could. His shirt is getting wet, and Sam knows that Nathan is crying too. “I’m here little brother…”
No one has the heart to intervene, but Sam eventually pulls away, just a little. Nathan looks up, looking so tired and guilt-ridden that Sam wants to cry even more at the sight.
“Come on boys...we have a lot to talk about.” Sully finally breaks the silence, looking tired himself at their reunion. He sees the way Nathan clings to Sam as they walk over, like if he were to let go, that Sam would just fade into dust. Talbot joins Flynn up in the passenger seat, the ride back to the hotel silent. It’s not until the rental is returned, and drinks are brought up to the room, that Flynn decides to break the silence.
“So, Samuel Drake...welcome back to the world of the livin’.” He raises his beer bottle, joined by six others as they are clinked together.
“Thanks, man...it’s real good ta be back.” It still hasn't quite sunk in that he's free, that he's out and away from the hovel he's been forced to call home. Sam is expecting to wake up, to find that he's lost a fight and was just in some sort of dream. No, the hours tick by, and by nightfall, he's smoking on the small patio overlooking the city. He’s alone for a time, glancing over his shoulder when he hears the door open and close. It’s the man from before, standing as far from Sam as possible as he leans against the railing. The suit is gone, replaced with cargo pants, a dark t-shirt, and what looked like a motorcycle jacket that’s a little short for him.
“So, what’s your story?” Offering the branch, Sam watches as the other flinches. Grey eyes glance over, reminding Sam of when Nathan was younger. Nathan had been so scared the first time they slept on the streets, eyes ringed with tiredness that didn’t fade until they had found a hotel to live in. This guy had the same look, something in Sam’s gut coiling in guilt as the other sighed.
“My name is Talbot...do you remember me from a few years ago?” Sam nods, everyone in the prison remembered that day. The chick had been unsettling, two men gathered up and never returned. The woman had stared at him a few times, with a look of recognition, although from where Samuel had no idea.
“Oh yea, you and that creepy chick you were with right?” Talbot gives a sharp nod. “That was a weird day.”
“I would suppose so.” Talbot sounds tired, and Sam offers a cigarette. It’s hesitantly accepted, Talbot coughing after the first drag. Sam gives a chuckle, and after some adjustment, Talbot manages to finish the cigarette. He declines a second one, opting to straighten and teleport back into the hotel room. Sam stands in shock, barely having a moment to comprehend before Talbot returns, a whiskey bottle and two glasses in his hands.
“The fuck just happened?” Sam finally manages, taking the offered glass. Talbot looks amused, leaning back over the railing as he takes a drink.
“It is a long story.” Sam gives a bit of a laugh, nudging his side to continue.
Talbot begins after steeling himself with a drink. Despite only really meeting Sam hours go for the first time, he finds opening up easy. He tells Sam what little he remembers before he was taken off the streets, given promises of food and shelter by an Order that seemed so kind. How they had taken him to a strange castle, and had corrupted him with the power of the Djinn after his 12th birthday, and turned him into a soulless assassin. How, until almost three weeks ago, he had been Marlowe’s puppet up until her very death. Now, now he was happy. He speaks of how comforting Elena is, how strong Sully was, how kind Nathan was, and how protective Flynn was.
Dawn is cresting over the horizon when he finishes, and he hears Samuel let out a long and low whistle.
“It’s a lot kid...I’m sorry.” Talbot shrugs, and the two stand for a while longer before finally heading inside. Sam goes and lies on the couch, and Talbot goes to his room without much fanfare to pack up. The group is gone by morning, off and flying back to London, to home for the two sitting in the back of the plane. Flynn is holding Talbot as he sleeps, one hand nestled in raven locks while the other holds Talbot’s hand. Sam and Nathan aren’t too far from them, the two alternating between speaking in Spanish and Portuguese. Every so often Nathan reaches out to grip Sam’s shoulder as if affirming that he was really there, and Sam always places his hand over Nathan’s. Elena can be seen peeking back from the co-pilot seat, still in disbelief herself that she had a brother-in-law that Nathan had suppressed for so long. Sully just assures her with a quiet remark, his own heart heavy for the brothers, and even those sitting in the back of his plane.
Maybe he did like collecting poor saps, who knew.