Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

Johnny Walker goes home with them. 

Chloe’s place has a lovely set of industrial windows with a nice view of a small park nearby, and both women sit side by side, passing the bottle back and forth as they gaze out into the night, getting drunker and drunker.

“Y’know,” Athena says, slowly, “I once thought this was something that would go away.” She chuckles at that because how? Maybe if Nate ever stopped being… Nate. She nods to herself between giggles. Maybe then.

Chloe hums, taking a swig. “When was that?”

Athena thinks hard, numbers and dates swimming in her head. “Um…three—no, four years ago.”

“Bloody hell,” Chloe coughs and groans, pushing the bottle into Athena’s hands. “You need this more than I do.”

***

Athena wakes up regretting everything. Last evening’s drinking is the biggest one, but she also regrets falling asleep—or passing out—with her neck in that position. She even regrets following that blue-eyed boy all those years ago to the Navy Pier. It’s only for a moment, but the thought crosses her mind and she finds herself agreeing. She regrets that as well, three seconds later.

Chloe lies a la starfish and fully dressed over her bed when Athena heads for the bathroom and turns on the shower. She stands under the spray until there are no more tears to mask with the water and as she steps out, she stares at her reflection in the mirror, finding she looks as raw as she feels. You’ll survive this, she tells herself.

She makes too much coffee and sips slowly from a chipped cup, leaning against the counter as Chloe groans from the bedroom.

“Turn off the lights, would you?” She says as she pads into the kitchen, squinting and with a serious case of bed hair.

Athena’s lips twitch. “That’s the sun, Chloe.”

“Lies, there’s no such thing in London,” she says as Athena passes her the other mug. “That’s why I live here.”

Chloe sits on a chair, contemplating…something—her coffee, life…Athena doesn’t know. What she does learn is that Chloe isn’t a morning person. Another piece of the puzzle that is Chloe Frazer, she muses as she finishes her coffee.

“So what now?” Chloe asks all of a sudden.

“What do you mean?” Athena says as she washes her cup.

“Nate. What are you gonna do about him?”

Athena dries her hands, thinking it over. Is there anything to be done? She doesn’t think so. And in the end, the bulk of the pain doesn’t come from the fact he got married—though some does. What truly hurts is that she found out through someone else. She shrugs. “Nothing,” Athena says eventually. “As long as he’s happy…”

Chloe groans. “God, please don’t finish that sentence.”

Athena snorts.

***

She returns to the States and focuses on getting her arm back to what it was before Shambhala. It takes time—that she uses to catch up on years of reading—but Sully’s friend clears her for physical activity eventually. 

The muscle is healed but useless after weeks of keeping it as still as possible and the first time she tries to test it with some harmless tree climbing, Athena ends up on her ass in the park at three AM. She’s glad there are no eyewitnesses to the whole ordeal.

Chloe is the one who suggests boxing to rebuild her strength and at the time she does, it sounds perfectly reasonable to Athena. It’s a handy skill to have in their line of work and there’s no need for an instructor. Sam taught her to throw a mean punch when she was fifteen. She knows what she’s doing. Kinda. The thing is, she doesn’t want to tie herself to a gym subscription.

“Then get yourself a bloody punching bag, Athena,” Chloe says in exasperation before hanging up the phone.

Which also sounds sensible. She can get one of those free-standing ones and not deal with mounting the thing to the wall or the ceiling. Until she sees the prices, that is. Second hand it is, she tells herself and redoubles the online search.

This is who I am now, she thinks as she sends the bid, someone who buys punching bags on Craigslist. She doesn’t know how far removed that is from ‘cat lady’ on a pathos level, but she guesses it’s not far. She buys weights, too, the next day.

It takes her three frustrating months of hard work, sweat and tears before she can hold her weight on her left arm and finally, she feels it won’t be a detriment if she takes a job. Three months of radio silence from Nate. She lodges that thought in the back of her mind and when Chloe mentions she could use her for a heist, Athena doesn’t think it twice before saying yes. 

***

She leaves Chloe in Europe with promises of returning soon as March rolls around and she goes home to make her annual trip. 

Athena gives Sully a call—they haven’t seen each other in a few months. He’s in the States as well, as it turns out.

“Wouldn’t kill you to visit, y’know? ” He says, going for nonchalant, but failing miserably. It makes her smile because she’s missed him, too.

“I will before going back to London,” she agrees as she packs a bag for a few days. “You’ll have me in Texas soon if you promise to make me pancakes, Sully.”

“You’ll get your pancakes,” he says, dry. “Blueberry? ”

“You know me, Sully. I’m a woman of habits.”

He hums on the other side of the line. “And busy, too,” he muses.

“Well,” Athena sighs, “after all those months stuck here, I was in need of some traveling.”

“I can imagine,” he says, pausing. “Have you heard from Nate? ”

“Nope,” she says with a light voice, trying to zip her bag closed, but it’s not good one handed. “Hold on, Sully, I’ll put you on speaker.” She fiddles with her phone and tosses it over the bed, returning to her bag. “There.”

“What’s all that ruckus in the background? ”

“Oh, just packing,” she comments, realizing she forgot to put socks into the bag.

“Already wishing for those pancakes? ”

“I’m always wishing for pancakes, but don’t worry, I’ll give you a few days to stock up,” she says, zipping the bag for the second time. “I’m heading for Chicago in the morning and Boston next.”

“Oh, right. ” She hears him sigh and mutter something she doesn’t quite catch.

Athena frowns, getting closer to the phone. “What’s that, Sully?”

“Oh, nothin’, darlin’,” he drawls. “I’ll let you be. See ya soon, yeah? ”

“You bet,” Athena says with a smile. “I’ll text you when I’m heading your way.”

***

Jacob Ritchie died on a cold March evening when Athena was six years old. They were driving home when a guy thought it was no big deal to hop in his car after hitting the bar and having a few drinks with friends. Maybe it would have been, had the roads not been icy as they were. Athena walked away from that with nary a scratch as did the guy in the other car. She also walked out fatherless—an orphan, really, because her mother was long gone by then and there was no more family to take her in. 

While Athena doesn’t subscribe to the idea of a bigger scheme being at play, she has found that coincidences are a recurrent thing in her life. 

March always was a tough month to live through, but after she left Chicago with the Drake brothers when she was thirteen and she could not make the trip to the cemetery, it only got worse. But grief and pain did not rob her of her observation skills and when the brothers got silent and brooding as the days moved forward, she noticed.

“Our mom died on the seventeenth,” Nate confessed one night, eyes fixed on a piece of paper as he doodled.

“My dad on the second,” she said because it was only fair for her to give a little bit of herself as well. “I wish we could go visit them.”

“We will,” he promised. “One day.”

The first trip they could afford, they made together. Sometimes Sam would join them. Sometimes he would be in jail. Or maybe Athena or Nate would. But one of them always seemed to manage the trip to pay their respects.

Athena spends hours with her father, telling the headstone the highs and lows of the past year. She’s always assaulted with doubts whenever she brings up the job, sure her father would have wanted a better, less dangerous life for her, but on the other hand, Jacob Ritchie had been afflicted with the bite of curiosity just as she is. Just as Nate is. Maybe he would have chastised her for her choices while listening to her stories with a conspiratorial gleam in his eyes. She likes that thought.

She takes a flight to Boston that evening and heads for the cemetery in the early morning with a bouquet of white roses—Cassandra Morgan’s favorites.

Leaving the flowers at the feet of the headstone, Athena has the irrational impulse to apologize. It’s not the fact that it’s not her responsibility anymore, but she did promise to watch over Nate. All her feelings revolt against the idea of stepping aside, but she never mastered the ability to push reality away.

“Elena is a good woman, capable and smart, Cassandra,” Athena whispers into the cold morning air. “He will be fine.” The only comforting part of this whole thing is that she truly believes that; it gives her peace of mind, of the quiet and understated kind, but peace in the end.

Her senses are somewhat aware of the footsteps crunching over the dead grass, but still, it catches her off guard. Nate standing by her shoulder after all these months as if no time had gone by is a surreal sight. Athena lingers, frozen in her position and watching him from the corner of her eye, not knowing what to do or how to brave it because she’s not sure she can pretend nothing has changed. That just isn’t true. Everything has changed for her as much as she would prefer it otherwise. She’s a good liar—always has been—but Nate lives under different rules in Athena’s eyes. He knows her too damn well and were she able to be untruthful with him, Athena still wouldn’t want to.  Another symptom of love,  she thinks, disappointed with her blindness.

So Athena keeps still, eyes dead set on the lichen growing over Cassandra Morgan’s epitaph, dreading the reality she knows it’s time to accept: she may mean a lot to Nate, but not as much as he means to her, never as much. It’s a hard pill to swallow, but swallow it she does.

“Hi,” Nate says, his eyes finally on her, but she doesn’t turn to face him. Not yet, not yet. He keeps going, voice light, oblivious to her inquietude. “I tried to catch up with you in Chicago, but I didn’t make it in time.”

“How did you know I was coming?” She asks around a frown, relieved because her voice sounds normal.

“Sully,” he says with a self-conscious grin, “I was with him when you called.”

That little traitor, she thinks, with a mix of exasperation and surprise. It’s not like Sully to meddle, which makes her wonder if the rift has been that obvious. Athena hums in response.

“How’s the arm?”

“Good,” Athena says and turns to look at him. “How’s the wife?”

Nate would swear on his life he has an extraordinary poker face, which is a load of bullshit. He has one of the most expressive faces Athena has ever seen, which is why he’s always bled dry whenever he tries to play. That hasn’t changed, she’s relieved to find, as he gapes for a moment before turning sheepish.

“You’ve heard, huh?”

“I did,” she replies, eyes hardening, “from Chloe.”

“Oh…yeah…” Nate chuckles a little, shrugging. “It was a thing of the moment.”

Athena nods. “I bet. Congrats.” And with that, she turns and starts walking towards the car she rented at the airport.

“Athena, wait.” His hand closes around her forearm and she can feel the warmth even through her thick, wool coat. “What’s wrong?”

Athena can’t help it, she laughs a little, running her hand over her forehead, because how can she explain this? Logic is her forte and her reason tells her that he’s not responsible for her feelings, but since that rainy night at the pub, Athena feels like he took a part of her with him when he stepped out from her apartment, saying he was going on vacation. A part he never thought to return.

“Tell me, Nate,” Athena says with all the calm she can muster, which isn’t much at the moment, “how would you feel if I were to disappear tomorrow and, two months from now, you find out through some random person that I got married?” Athena keeps her eyes on his because she’s genuinely curious for the answer. She doesn’t get it in words. For once, Nate seems struck mute, but his features tell the tale by themselves: he recoils and swallows, lips thinning with tension and a frown furrows his brow. He seems disgusted with the idea, betrayed.

Nate shakes his head. “I—”

But as much as Athena waits, he can’t seem to find the words. “Exactly,” she says, eyes welling with tears, “that’s how I feel.” 

People often remark on the satisfaction of getting the last word. What a load of crap, she thinks as she walks away, numb to her bones.

***

Charlie Cutter is a riot. That’s her first, second and third impression of the man.

It’s not unwelcome, exactly, but she does find it a bit surprising the fact that she gets to meet someone who speaks as much—if not more—than Nate. He’s a smartass, on occasion, but Charlie’s true talent lies in going off on tangents. 

“Charlie, can you get to the point?” Chloe says from the front seat as they drive through the British countryside.

“Alright, no need to get that tone, love,” he tells Chloe with a long-suffering sigh. “No sense of proper storytelling, this one,” he says, looking at Athena through the rearview mirror as Chloe grumbles.

“You sure you got enough time to make that story of yours justice?” Athena says with amusement, checking her watch. “We can’t be that far off.”

“We’re not,” Chloe says, as they pass through the outskirts of a small town. “Just five more minutes up north and we’re there.”

“Well,” Charlie drawls to another groan from Chloe, “there’s always the return trip.”

The mansion—or palace, depending on who’s to say—is one of the most beautiful buildings Athena has ever seen. An Elizabethan, stately home for some Lord or Duke, they are lucky it functions as a museum during the day. It made the recon work a lot more simple.

The three of them hide in the shrubs until all lights go off and they make their way inside through a side door after disabling the alarm. Keeping to the shadows and avoiding the cameras they had spotted a week ago, they make it to the second floor, where the library is. 

Chloe walks in first and Athena follows, pausing a bit to take in the sight. Dark wood bookshelves line the walls, floor to ceiling and packed to the brim with books about absolutely everything, only interrupted by the fireplace and mantel in the middle of the room. Persian rugs cover the hardwood floors and leather armchairs are placed strategically around the room. Athena’s fingers itch to grab a tome and sink into one of those couches—the place is a dream come true.

Sadly, they’re here for a very specific reason that doesn’t include leisure or reading. They split to speed things along, but after ten minutes of canvassing the shelves under the flashlight, it becomes obvious they’re not going to find their loot here. 

“Isn’t the Gutenberg bible supposed to be a large book?” Chloe asks as she keeps looking.

“It is,” Charlie says, nodding, “and there’s nothing like that here.”

Athena pats his shoulder in commiseration. “We knew this was most likely the case. C’mon,” she says, walking to the door, “let’s head to that study.”

They hit the proverbial jackpot in the office. They not only find the book they’re looking for, but there’s also a ton of valuable artifacts on display. Nate would lose his mind here, Atena thinks as she passes by a Ming dynasty vase in pristine condition, but then, something catches her eye and she has to do a second take.

Amongst the multitude of framed pictures over a sideboard, one of them stands out for Athena. Vaguely aware of Chloe and Charlie muttering somewhere behind her, she picks up the picture frame with shaky hands and the sight leaves her slightly breathless. In the photo, a group of men and a woman smile politely at the camera with next to no warmth as they stand in an old building. Tudor, Athena guesses by the shape of the arches and the intricacy of the woodwork. Athena stares at the woman’s cold eyes and yes, it’s her. Athena could never forget her face. She turns her attention to the background, eyes widening. Is that… In the corner of the photo, almost out of frame and barely in focus, there’s a glass cabinet with an artifact she recognizes as well. Holy shit, what are the odds—

“Found something?”

Chloe’s voice nearly makes Athena jump out of her skin and she shakes her head at Chloe’s quirked eyebrow, heart hammering in her chest.

“We should head out,” Athena says, choosing to focus on the job at hand. “You guys got the book?”

Chloe nods at Charlie, who’s holding a heavy-looking tome in his hands. “We did. All set?”

“Yep,” Athena replies, putting the frame into the leather pouch attached to her belt. Chloe eyes her for a moment, but to Athena’s relief, doesn’t comment or ask. “Let’s go.”

***

Athena’s eyes itch with tears when the realization hits: there’s nothing they can do to bail Sam out. Nate tries to remain composed—or his version of composure, which translates into cracking jokes, but Athena can see the chinks in his blase attitude and how his snark falls a little flat. He’s worried and she can’t blame him: the next few months will be a challenge, because there’s no way they will leave without Sam; they’re stuck in Colombia for the foreseeable future. They’re in a foreign country by themselves—a fourteen-year-old girl and an almost sixteen-year-old boy. Athena’s wary, too.

They make do, as usual. Nate gets a grasp of the language far easier than Athena does—not that they need a great command of Spanish to pickpocket, but it does make their lives easier. Three months into this new existence of whiling the days away in the streets, Nate shows up with a brochure about an exhibit at a local museum, excited as Athena hasn’t seen him in months.

“See?” He says, pointing at something on the glossy paper that Athena definitely can’t read, smiling so wide that it’s got to hurt. “They have a ring. A sixteenth century, silver ring, engraved with Sir Francis’ motto.” He drops the brochure into Athena’s hands and heads for the drab bed they share every night, reaching for his duffel bag. He grabs his mother’s white, leather-bound journal, leafing through it until he finds what he’s looking for. “Look at this,” he says and it’s the first time Athena has seen this page. It’s easy to guess where Nate got his drawing skills from, for Cassandra’s hands were just as talented.

“May I?” She asks with reverence and Nate doesn’t hesitate to hand her the journal.

Athena’s eyes roam the drawing: a pencil sketch of a ring that bears all the characteristics Nate says the brochure promises. 

“I believe these numbers are of some significance,” she reads quietly, “nine, thirty-two, seventy-nine.” She lifts her eyes to Nate, who’s looking at her, expectant. “What significance?”

He shrugs. “No idea, but see the date?”

“Yeah, what about it?”

“If my mom was right and I’m sure she was,” he says, a grin growing on his face, “that ring was engraved a day after Sir Francis supposedly died. But the only way to know for sure is to get that ring.” 

“Huh…” Athena’s attention returns to the brochure for a moment, already imagining where this is going. She quirks an eyebrow. “So what? You gonna steal it?”

“Well, it’s not stealing if it belongs in the family,” he drawls and she snorts at that, amused with the stretch. But then he turns hesitant, hands fiddling with the brochure. “And uh…I was hoping you’d come along.”

Is it a good idea? Not in the slightest. They have a bigger fish to fry, namely surviving the next few months unscathed. Robbing a museum decreases their chances of achieving it. Does that mean she’s going to bail on Nate? Absolutely not. He’s family. Athena was going to tag along whether he wanted her there or not—she made a promise to Sam—but she can’t say she isn’t flattered to be included.

Athena gets on her feet and starts braiding her long hair, tying the end with a worn elastic. She grabs her journal and heads for the door of the dirt-cheap motel they’ve been staying at, turning to Nate. “Well? We gotta check the place out first,” she tells him, getting impatient when he doesn’t move. “I’m not going in there blind.”

“Is that an astrolabe?” Athena asks while Nate stares at the silver ring with awe.

He shifts by her side and moves closer, frowning. “Looks like it,” he mutters, “but I’m not sure.” He points to a letter pinned to the back of the display, written by Sir Francis. There are symbols she doesn’t recognize at the bottom of the paper, the same symbols carved over one of the astrolabe’s brass rings. 

So there’s more to it. She hums. Athena picks up her journal and starts copying the letter, symbols included, as Nate draws by her side. 

She finishes first, which is why she notices the guy trying to seem interested in the rest of the exhibition while glancing their way from time to time. He’s not being half as subtle as he obviously thinks he is. “Nate,” she whispers, looking down to his almost finished sketch, “check out the guy in the green shirt.”

Nate pauses for a second and then grabs her hand, leading her to another display not far away. Sure enough, Green Shirt Dude walks leisurely to the case they had been standing in front of and in an admittedly smooth move, makes an imprint of the lock.

“C’mon,” Nate urges, meaning to follow the man with his hand still in hers, but before they can take a step, a couple of security guards drag them away and throw them to the street.

Athena stumbles after a forceful shove and lands on her knees on the dirty pavement, hissing at the sting of the skin breaking.

“Pendejo! ” Nate yells at the guard as the man returns inside and helps her to her feet. “You okay?”  

“I’m fine,” she says with a small smile, but something draws her attention at the end of the street. “Nate…” Athena nods her head to Green Shirt Dude as he walks away. “Look.”

Nate grins, offering his hand and Athena takes it.

Athena chuckles as Nate shows her the wallet. “This will come handy,” she says, pocketing the key with a wicked smile. That lift had been a thing of beauty. “C’mon, let’s get rid of that and get something to eat. I’m starving.”

“You always are,” Nate sighs.

“You’re the one to talk! Who was the one who finished the cereal yesterday?”

“Aw, c’mon…there was barely any left in the—”

Athena and Nate come to a full stop as they turn to another street and Green Shirt Guy is seemingly waiting for them, arms crossed and an indifferent look on his face. Had he noticed about the wallet? Shit. Her mind is running wild with possibilities as the man comes near them and her eyes roam their surroundings in case they have to make a run for it.

“That was a nice lift back there,” the man says, almost cordial, glancing at her for a moment before his eyes return to Nate. “You’re pretty good.”

Nate shrugs and, taking her hand, starts walking away. “I don’t know what you’re talking about, old man.”

“Hey, don’t call me that.” The man frowns, not exactly getting in their way, but not letting them leave either. “Your technique is really sloppy, though. You’re telegraphing all your moves.”

Athena’s eyes narrow. This guy knows what he’s talking about; he’s obviously a thief, otherwise he wouldn’t be making copies of museum displays’ keys. What she doesn’t get is why he’s bothering with talking them into returning his stuff. He’s got to know that he could easily take it.

Nate, though, sticks with denial. “You’re crazy.”

The man chuckles a little. “Yeah?” He points at them and Athena can’t help but think he seems amused. “You’ve been tailing me all over town. Probably figured me for an easy mark. But you picked the wrong guy, kids.” 

Is he trying to point out similarities between them? Athena doesn’t care for that kind of manipulation, or whatever he’s aiming to do, so she pulls on Nate’s hand, but the man stops them again.

“What?” Nate asks with an innocent face.

“My wallet.” The guy deadpans, but he changes his tack when Nate and Athena give him blank stares. “Fine, maybe we’ll just call the police.”

“Go ahead,” Nate says around a smirk. “’Course they might wonder why a middle aged tourist is following two teens into alleys.”

The man shakes his head, smiling. “You’re crafty little beggars, aren’t you?”

“We know how to take care of ourselves.” Athena says, dead serious. The man gives her a long look, something sad lurking in his expression and Athena doesn’t like it. We don’t need your pity. She swallows that thought.

“Anyway, I’m pretty sure you don’t like the cops any more than we do,” Nate adds, smug. 

“Good point,” he says, but stretches his hand, waiting. “Kid. The wallet.”

“Had to try,” Nate sing-songs around a shrug and returns the wallet. 

“‘Course you did,” Athena hears the man say as they walk away, though not as fast as she would like.

They move around in circles, just in case the man gets any ideas and decides to follow them, eventually stopping at a cheap food joint for lunch. They split a plate of some sort of stew, eating in silence, and once their stomachs stop rumbling, Nate sits back on his chair, lips twitching.

“How long d’you think until he realizes the key’s gone?”

Athena’s shoulders shake with quiet laughter.

She’s improving at this climbing business. It has taken her years to build up her arm strength to hold her weight, but she’s finally getting there. Of course, some jumps are just out of her shorter limbs’ reach, but her eyes get better and better at catching alternative routes with each passing day. Athena feels proud of her achievements, even if they would seem mundane and unimportant to anyone else. It means she’s got more chances of surviving, that she won’t slow Nate down, and honestly, that’s all that matters to her.

Nate opens the glass case, hands reaching for the ring as her own lift the astrolabe. It’s heavier than it looks and she shakes it a little, hearing the telltale sound of moving parts inside.

“Lemme see that,” Nate whispers. 

Athena hands him the astrolabe and he pushes the silver ring into its center. It not only fits perfectly but there’s a clicking noise before the thing comes alive: the engraved wheel turns on its own and as the symbols shift, a different letter of the alphabet appears on the bottom of the astrolabe. Athena’s heart races with the awe of discovery as a small smile curves her lips.

“Woah…” He sighs in amazement, fiddling with the dials and testing it out.

“Nate,” she says, keeping her voice down, “this is a decoding dev—” 

A male voice interrupts them and when they look to the door, they find Green Shirt Guy and the blond woman he had been with earlier, plus a few well-armed goons.

“Why, Victor,” the woman says in a mocking tone that sounds even more insufferable in her accent, “look who it is…the filthy little strays that made off with your wallet.”

Athena’s heartbeat goes wild again, but for entirely different reasons. She wraps a hand over Nate’s forearm and takes a few steps back, but as she turns, she finds more men in black suits with guns. Goddamnit, she thinks as their odds of walking out of this one plummet into nothingness. We need a way out, fast.   

“C’mon, son,” the man—Victor—says to Nate, almost pleading. “You haven’t got a chance. Just hand it over.”

Patience doesn't seem to be one of the blond woman's character traits. She rips the decoder from his hands, but not before he removes Sir Francis’ ring from it. 

“Now the ring,” she demands, imperious.

Nate, though, doesn’t look fazed at all as Athena feels something sliding into the front pocket of her jeans. He lifts his hands, wiggling his fingers. “What ring?”

The woman laughs, but there’s no mirth to it, and slaps Nate across the face with such force that his back hits Athena’s chest and she has to steady him by putting her hands on his arms. Pure, undiluted hatred rises in Athena’s throat as she stares at the woman, something she hadn’t felt in a long time, not since she had left the foster home. It gives her a sort of calm that steadies her breathing and fuels her determination. 

“Katherine!” The man shouts, apparently affronted, not that Athena cares. He’s working for the bitch, he can’t be that good of a person.

The woman ignores him, though, walking closer to Nate and Athena again. “Who do you think you are?” She spits, her attractive face contorting with disgust. “You’re nothing but filthy, cast-off little beggars. You’re not fit to touch these objects.”

But as the woman raises her hand again, the man stops her, grabbing her wrist in a firm grip. “What the hell do you think you’re doing? They’re just kids!”

Athena doesn’t think twice. Taking advantage of the distraction, she drags Nate and they both roll under a display, dodging a couple of goons and running for their lives. The museum is like a maze, corridors leading to closed doors, leaving them to take the stairs, and by the time they’re on the roof aiming to jump into a balcony, Athena can feel her heart trying to beat out of her chest. As if that weren’t enough, they start hearing gunfire, and when a bullet whistles past Athena’s ear, she loses her footing, stumbling with her own feet.

One of the goons must have caught up with them because as she’s getting to her feet, someone yanks her back from her long braid, and Athena yelps, more in surprise than in pain.

Nate turns around, eyes widening in fear as she struggles to shake the man’s grip off to no avail, and he runs back to her full tilt.

“Let go!” He screams and shoves the man with all his strength, without slowing down. 

In the scuffle, they have been getting nearer and nearer to the ledge, so when Nate’s hands connect with the man’s chest, he takes a couple of steps back, losing his balance and falling from the roof with a horrified scream.

Nate helps her to her feet and they both look down to the street, several feet below, where the man lies with his neck at an impossible angle. Despite the gruesome sight, her mind doesn’t let itself dwell on it, because they need to get the hell out of here. They’re far from safe.

“C’mon, Nate,” she says, pulling on his limp arm, “we gotta go!”

But by the time Nate reacts with a small nod, it’s too late.

“Look what we have here,” another man in a black suit says as he walks closer, gun pointed at them.

Nate immediately shoves her behind him as the man mocks them. Nate is shaking like a leaf and Athena isn’t much better, adrenaline and fear coiling in her gut.

“Just close your eyes,” the man says in a calm voice that sends shivers down her spine and Athena lays eyes on the gun the man on the street was carrying before falling to his death. “This won’t hurt a bit.”

As soon as she hears those words, some small part of her understands the stakes: they’re not getting out of this roof alive unless they do something. Athena doesn’t think, she just reacts. She has never held a gun before, let alone shot one;  it’s do or die,  she thinks and dives for the weapon. Aiming towards the man’s broadest part, which is his chest, Athena pulls the trigger way too hard and the recoil shakes her balance enough she has to take a step back to right herself. But the man looks unphased and his smile lingers. As she starts to shake with the realization she’ll have to fire again, his shirt blooms in crimson and the man falls on his back with a quiet sigh.

I just killed a man,  she thinks absentmindedly, like the idea doesn’t come from her own brain, but rather someone placed it there for her to discover later. A wave of relief hits her and then, a bigger one of horror, but there’s no time to linger on her conflicting emotions because Green Shirt Guy appears on the roof. Athena’s grip on the gun tightens again as she purses her lips and wills the bile down, purposefully avoiding looking at the body or Nate. Will he hate me? Will he be disgusted with what I did?

Green Shirt Guy—Victor, she remembers the blond woman said—holsters his gun and raises his hands, approaching them with careful steps as Athena’s sight clouds with tears.

“C’mon,” he says, his gravelly voice unexpectedly soothing Athena’s frayed soul as he slowly takes the gun from her quivering hands. “You’re okay, kid.”

The moment Nate wrapped an arm around her shoulders, Athena burrowed into his side and hasn’t let go since. She followed his lead and Nate decided at some point that Green Shirt Guy doesn’t want to kill them. That’s good enough for her.

The man leads them into a questionable joint in the outskirts of town and tells them to sit down as he heads for the bar.

They’re making a spectacle of themselves, Athena can tell. Two dirty, banged up kids holding each other as if their lives depended on it. They still might, Athena thinks, as Nate scopes the place out.

Green Shirt returns with two plates of food, a couple of sodas and a beer, and it’s somewhat funny seeing him struggle with all his cargo, but Athena doesn’t smile. Just because she got lucky a couple of years back with Nate and Sam, doesn’t mean this will be the same. Life doesn’t just hand out small miracles to people like us, she thinks, as the man lays the food on the table and takes a seat.

“You can relax—we’re safe here. Go on.” He nods to the food and while she can feel Nate’s stomach grumbling at the scent of food, they remain on their feet, eyes narrowed. The man shrugs, nonchalant, and grabs one of the plates for himself. “Suit yourself, if you don’t want it…”

Nate seems to lose the battle to his stomach, pulling her hand towards the table and taking the plate back for himself. He digs in with gusto and Athena’s lips threaten to twitch as she takes a seat by his side. It smells delicious and her mouth waters, but her eyes stare at the man, unwavering. “What do you want from us?”

The man gives her a sardonic smile that does little for Athena’s raised hackles, as he leans back on his chair. “A little gratitude would be nice,” he says. “I did just save your asses back there.”

“I’m the one who shot him.” It takes her all her composure not to break down, hating how small her voice sounds as she admits that. 

The man nods and sighs as Nate pauses and entangles his fingers with hers under the table.  

“Thanks for the assist,” Nate deadpans. “But what’s in it for you? l mean, you’re a crook, right? You gotta have an angle.” 

Athena says nothing to that but she agrees with every word Nate spoke.

The man ruefully chuckles. “You are one piece of work, kid.” He shifts his eyes between them for a few seconds, taking their measure. “What’s the story with the two of you, anyway?”

“Look, mister, no offense,” Nate says, shaking his head, “but we don’t even know you.”

“Easily remedied, Victor Sullivan,” he says, extending a hand to them that they limit to stare at. He sighs. “This would be the part where you introduce yourselves.”  

When that still does nothing, the man changes tactics: he brings up the ring and starts pulling on Nate’s tongue on the history behind it. Athena can hardly restrain an eye roll at that. Trust Nate to give up everything at the first chance of discussing dead people’s shit, she thinks with a mixture of fondness and irritation, as the pair of them chat and she gives into her hunger.

“Okay, then—so what was all that business with the ring and that astrolabe thing back there?” Sullivan asks, looking as interested in the conversation as Nate is in providing detail.

But Nate seems to remember himself then and Athena can help but feel a little proud. “Why don’t you tell me? You’re the one working for ’em.”

“Look, kid—a client wants something, I obtain it. For a price. I don’t ask any questions. It’s just a job.” Sullivan shrugs.

“Looked pretty friendly to me,” Athena chimes in after she finishes attacking a corn on the cob.

“Yeah, well… Anyway, I’m pretty, sure I’m fired.”

“Maybe you’re still working for them and you’re trying to lure us in to get the ring,” Athena shoots back.

Sullivan doesn’t seem to appreciate that. He gives her a dry look. “If I wanted that ring, I would have taken it already, dontcha think?”

That’s true, Athena concedes with a small nod. Nate and Sullivan return to the conversation and Athena observes how Nate loosens up little by little as he explains the ins and outs of Sir Francis Drake’s journey through the East Indies.

“So,” Sullivan drawls, “you still haven’t told me what your names are.”

“And you still haven’t told us what you want from us,” Athena retorts.

“Okay, look,” Sullivan says, leaning his arms over the table, “you kids got talent. But you’ve got a lot to learn. You stick with me and I’ll teach you a few things.”

“Thanks,” Nate snarks, “but we’re doing just fine on our own.”

Are we? Athena muses. They’re surviving; tonight’s proof of that, but they aren’t exactly thriving. Not a day goes by that they don't wake up with empty stomachs and empty pockets, constantly watching their backs for possible dangers. And what happens if Nate’s thrown into jail before Sam makes it out? What if she ends up locked up and Nate is left alone? She can barely ponder on that thought, it twists her insides with discomfort. 

“Whaddya say we try this again?” Sullivan offers his hand again. “My friends call me Sully.”

Athena doesn’t exactly trust this Sullivan guy, but he seems capable and not a creep, which is saying something. If anything goes sideways, they can always ditch him. She tightens her hand around Nate’s fingers and they look at each other for a long moment. He’s waiting for her lead, she realizes and Athena gives him a slight nod, hoping they won’t get to regret this decision.

“Nathan Drake,” he introduces himself, shaking Sullivan’s hand. “Nate.”

He chuckles. “‘Drake’, huh? Okay.” Sullivan turns to Athena. “You don’t look like siblings…you a Drake, too?”

Athena shakes her head. “He’s not my brother,” she assures Sullivan, “but we’re family.”

Nate smiles widely, seemingly pleased with the title she gave him. “This is Athena,” he says, looping an arm around her shoulders under Sullivan’s watchful eyes.

***

She awakes with a jolt, muscles protesting to the uncomfortable couch she’s been occupying for the last few nights. That damned dream again, she thinks and a grunt leaves her throat as she sits up, clearing the sleep from her eyes.

Snippets of those days and nights in Cartagena have been slipping into her dreams since she found that picture and combined with the jetlag, leave Athena grumpy and foul-humored every morning.

“Jesus, Sully, if you wanted to get back at me ‘cause I didn’t visit before, you could’ve pulled a prank on me or something,” Athena comments as she walks into the kitchen after washing her face. “That couch is killing me.”

“G’mornin’ to you, too,” he comments, unphased, as he flips pancakes on a skillet. 

At least there’s that, she thinks, mouth watering with the expectation of the fluffiest pancakes in the universe. Athena walks to the coffee pot, filling a cup for herself and topping up Sully’s—a ‘world okayest dad’ mug that she gave him a couple of years back for his birthday. He’d grumbled at that, saying cigars would’ve been much appreciated, but Athena knows better.

“Oh, God,” she groans at the first bite, uncaring of her full mouth, “I can never make ‘em this good.”

Sully grins from the other side of the table as Athena dumps another spoonful of honey over her stack. “It’s all in the hands,” he says, wiggling his fingers.

Athena grimaces. “Nate’s right. You make everything sound dirty.”

“Not my fault, darlin’,” he defends himself, “your twisted mind fills the blanks on its own. Speaking of…” He says after a pause as Athena stuffs her face, “what’s going on with you two?”

Athena shrugs, grateful for her full mouth, but Sully seems determined to get some answers. Nate probably distracted him with his smartass streak, but Athena, for all her sarcasm, doesn’t think she can shake Sully off.

“This is where I’d say ‘I haven’t seen you like this since…’,” Sully says, pinning her with a look she finds hard to ignore, “but to be honest, I’ve never seen you like this with him.”

And because she’s an idiot, she asks. “Like what?”

“Disappointed, angry…” He lists off. “Hurt.”

“Jeez, Sully, what’s with the analysis?” She rolls her eyes, abandoning her breakfast because she’s lost her appetite. Still, she gives the unfinished pancakes a forlorn look.

“Spare me the sarcasm, darlin’,” he says, but as Athena’s about to retort, he raises a hand. “I’m just sayin’, I can see you’re both upset and sue me if I don’t like it.”

Athena deflates at that, knowing Sully’s trying to help. “I know,” she sighs. “I’ll talk to him soon.”

“You called him?”

“Yes, pushy,” she retorts. She did call him. Once. And she didn’t leave a message. But she did call.

“And?”

Athena shrugs. “And nothing. He didn’t pick up.” She doesn’t want to dwell on that, doesn’t want to let her mind wander to what could’ve been so important that he never made it to the phone. “Y’know what?” Athena says, standing and heading for her backpack. She picks up her journal and a pencil, tearing a bit of paper and scribbling a quick note. She folds the paper and hands it to Sully. “Give him that. You’ll probably see him before I do.”

“So I’m your middle man now,” Sully says, dry, holding the note as if it had personally offended him.

“Only fair,” she shrugs, putting her journal back. “You did tattle on me, remember?”

“You were on speaker and he was here,” he explains, but Athena is having none of it.

“Convenient, that,” she says with no bite. Athena shakes her head as she returns to her chair.

“Look, I never planned on havin’ kids,” Sully says, voice a bit rough, “but you and Nate made yourselves a place here. You can’t blame me for worryin’.” 

Athena has to swallow at that, because they rarely get into personal talk and it never comes easy. “We’ll fix it,” she promises, hoping she can keep it, but without certainties. It’s not just up to me, she thinks. Athena shakes herself off of those doubts for now, knowing she’s going to face them in the dark of night, and returns to safer territory. She shrugs a shoulder with a growing grin. “As long as I’m still your favorite.”

Sully guffaws. “Sure.”

***

As the days turn into weeks and there’s no life signs from Nate, Athena starts losing her mind, little by little.

Chloe calls with an offer for another job, but she declines, telling her she’s wishing for some time off, but in truth, she’s waiting. Is this my fate? Waiting for a guy who doesn’t seem to give half the shits I do about him? She muses one night as she cooks herself dinner and she can’t say the thought doesn’t bother her. It does, very much so, because it goes beyond some unrequited feelings. Athena loves Nate wholly—in fact, she learned to love him as a friend and partner, someone who would watch over her just as she would do for him. She loved him first as a home, with a sense of belonging and familiarity. The attraction came later, much later, when he had already burrowed deep into her life and become an inextricable part of her.

It’s unfair, she thinks. He seems to walk out easily enough and she can barely bring herself to stop thinking about him.

The uncertainty she builds up in her head and the fact she’s keeping herself at home more than usual leave her restless and frustrated—and wouldn’t Chloe make a feast of a thought like that were she to hear it. Nothing like getting under someone to get over someone. Athena can hear it in her head, Brit accent and all. It won’t work. She knows because she already tried years ago.

Instead, Athena turns to her punching bag and it does help to take her mind off things. Some nights, the exhaustion she works up is even enough to send her to sleep.

She gets into it with single-minded focus, a frown on her face as she enjoys the burn in her muscles from the work out. 

It’s the reason why she never hears the knock on the door or the key turning.

Sweat running down her chest and back, Athena pauses the onslaught and runs a taped hand over her forehead, intending to head for the kitchen for some water, when she turns and sees Nate leaning against the wall with a shy smile on his face.

The surprise has Athena coming to an abrupt stop and gaping a little, before she somewhat collects herself. He looks so different with his long hair and unkempt beard that she can’t keep her eyes from eagerly roaming over him as he keeps quiet. Despite his appearance of nonchalance, Athena notices the tension he carries. He seems wary and tired; by the dark circles under his eyes, he looks like he hasn’t been sleeping all that well. She can relate to that, knowing she probably isn’t any better.

“Hey,” he says, eyes soft and damn him, she’s missed him so much. “Sorry, I…knocked a couple of times…” He points at her front door with his thumb, like she needs the visual cues to understand the situation, “but you didn’t answer and I still have a key, so…” He finishes lamely, shifting his weight from foot to foot.

Athena nods. “I didn’t hear you.” She clears her throat. “Come in.” And with that, she’s off to the kitchen for that water she desperately needs right now.

Reaching up for a glass, Athena keeps her back to Nate as she hears the scrape of a chair against the floor. “Want something?” She asks as she fills the glass, trying to beat the awkwardness away. It’s a bit funny how she despaired for weeks waiting for him to show up, and now that he’s here, all she can think of doing is chastising herself for the bout of self consciousness she somehow ends up in.

“Coffee sounds good,” he says.

“Sure.” 

She makes herself busy with the coffee maker, glad for her hands to have something to do other than twitch nervously by her sides. But brewing a cuppa isn’t exactly rocket science, so she ends up leaning against the counter, keeping the water she’s slowly sipping as a shield along with her crossed arms.

Nate stares at her with an intensity that unnerves her a little, like he’s studying or relearning her. Well, it has been eight months, she thinks, surprised by that number. It truly has, if she doesn’t count their meeting in Boston.

“Sully gave me this.” He holds a wrinkled and stained piece of paper between his fingers. The note. She had never mulled over and rethought a few lines of text as much as she did those during the last few weeks. 

The coffee maker cheerfully beeps and Athena fills a mug she’s intending to take to the table, but as she turns, she finds Nate standing by her side. The sudden closeness startles her and a few droplets of the piping hot coffee spill over. Thankfully, none of them land on her exposed midriff. “Go ahead,” she says, pointing to the table as she washes her hands, “I’ll be there in a second.”

Nate doesn’t seem to hear her, though, for he doesn’t walk away; eyes fixated on the side of her body for some reason.

“Nate?” She calls, frowning.

He lifts his eyes to her and for the life of her, she can decipher the emotion coloring his face. He seems dumbfounded but there’s more to it, she just can’t put her finger on it. “When did you get that?” He asks roughly, while pointing at her ribs.

Athena is lost for a moment and she looks down her body, finding her sports bra has ridden up a bit, revealing the Sic Parvis Magna she got inked a lifetime ago. She chuckles a little at the memory of it. “The tattoo?” It’s more of a rhetorical question by now, but Nate silently nods anyway. “Um…ten years ago? Before that thing with the Labyrinth in Egypt. Why?”

“I…um—” He puts his hands in his pockets and takes a step back, clearing his throat. “I’d never seen it.”

Athena smiles a little because this is not the first time he catches her in a sports bra. Or the second. Or third. “Never?” He shakes his head as she hands him the mug and returns to the table. “Huh. I guess you’re not as observant as you think you are.”

“My observation skills work just fine, thank you.”

“All evidence to the contrary.”

They’re both smiling, eyes crinkled and all. This is easy and familiar, the banter. They used to spend entire days going back and forth like this, driving Sam or Sully insane with non stop chatter. It makes her nostalgic for times that weren’t exactly simple, but sure seem like it now.

“I’m sorry,” Nate says out of the blue and takes a deep breath, obviously intending to keep going. “I shouldn’t’ve shut you out like that.” He drops his eyes to the table, fingers fiddling with the mug and Athena can’t help but notice there’s no ring on his left hand. Had he been wearing one in Boston? She can’t remember.

She tries to swallow the emotions choking her up with little success. “Why did you?” The question isn’t easy to ask, but it has been haunting her nights for nearly a year now, dreading the answer as much as she needs it.

Nate lifts his eyes at the wobble in her voice, features decomposing with sorrow. “I don’t have a great answer for that,” he sighs. “I guess I thought it wouldn’t matter.”

That’s the lousiest excuse she’s ever heard. “Nate,” she says, firm, “we’re not talking about getting a new gun holster.” Athena leans forward, looking him in the eye, trying to make him understand. “You got married. ”

“Yeah, I know,” he huffs, running a hand over his face. “After we spoke in Boston, I realized—” He shakes his head. “It’d have hurt like hell if I’d been in your shoes.”

“Trust me,” she mumbles, picking up his empty cup and putting it in the sink. “It wasn’t a walk in the park.” As much as she tries, she can’t help the tears; they slip from her eyes unbidden and unwanted regardless of her wishes.

Nate leaves his seat and comes closer. “Shit, Athena, I’m sorry,” he mutters, running his thumbs under her eyes and the gesture is so quintessentially Nate that it has the opposite effect: Athena can feel the tracks made by the new tears tumbling down her cheeks. “Please, don’t cry,” he nearly begs, enveloping her in a hug.

Standing on her toes, she wraps her arms around his neck and lingers, cherishing the moment as his scent calms her wild heart. “You’re not the boss of me,” she snarks as her feet leave the ground and she’s literally hanging onto Nate.

“I know,” he chuckles into her shoulder, “wouldn’t that be a nightmare…”

She laughs, tightening her hold and fingers playing with the ends of his hair. “What’s with the new look?”

He sets her down on her feet again and she takes a step back, taking her time to stare at him and lips quirking into a smile when he turns self-conscious. “Dunno,” he says with a shrug, running his fingers through the loose curls. “Probably a consequence of not having my stylist around.”

Athena rolls her eyes. “Please tell me you have a better argument than that.”

“No, really,” he says, eyes widening, “Elena tried to cut it once but it came out wrong, so I just let it be.”

Athena ignores the pang in her chest and grins. “It couldn’t have been worse than the hack job you did with my hair at Cartagena.” She still remembers the uneven results as if it had happened yesterday. After that goon took advantage of her long braid, Athena couldn’t stand the thought of keeping it waist length and Nate obliged, giving her the foulest haircut known to mankind.

“The scissors were blunt,” he defends himself.

“Sure, let’s go with that,” Athena says, mild. “Tell you what. I’m gonna go shower but I can give you a haircut after,” she offers, but then, she remembers he doesn’t exactly live here. “Unless you gotta go.”

Nate smiles, soft. “I’m staying.”

***

Nate ends up showering as well as Athena makes them something to eat. He steps out of the bathroom freshly shaven and dressed in his own clothes that he’d never taken from the closet they used to share.

Athena hears him padding to the kitchen as she stirs the sauce for some pasta, looking over her shoulder and whistling. “My, my, look at that jawline.”

“Shut up.” He chuckles despite himself, walking to the stove. “What’re you makin’?”

“Pasta, you hungry?” Athena asks and Nate makes a face, prompting a snort from her. “Of course you are.”

Nate sits atop the counter, apparently content with watching the circular motions of the wooden spoon. “I can’t believe you kept all my stuff,” he comments.

Athena quirks an eyebrow. “Me? Throwing away perfectly wearable clothes?”

“Right,” he quips, “you’re a hoarder.”

She shrugs as she crouches in search of a colander. “At least I’ll never run out of pajamas or sleeping shirts.” She throws the drained pasta into the sauce and steps back, opening her arms and showing off the hoodie she’s wearing. “Case in point.”

There’s that look again, she thinks, as Nate’s silence lingers along with his gaze on her. She’d be lying if she said the fact she can't read his expression bothers her. It does. Immensely. But he clears his throat and the trance is broken, freeing Athena to fish a couple of bowls from a cabinet. 

“That thing has to be at least twenty years old,” he says, pulling on the faded, maroon sleeve around her arm.

She nods. “Just about,” she agrees, handing him his plate. “C’mon, food first, haircut later.”

“Nice priority arrangement.”

Athena grins. “I’m sensible like that.” 

They eat as they trade stories of the last few months, which reminds Athena of one of the reasons why she wrote that note in the first place. 

She has been going back and forth with herself whether she should tell Nate about the picture she found in that stately home in England months ago. There’s compelling reasons to keep her mouth shut. For starters, they’re not those kids anymore. They have built lives for themselves, imbued their names with meaning and achieved a thing or two, but as Nate takes a seat and leaves Sir Francis’ ring over the table before covering his shoulders with a towel, Athena’s mind is made up. It’s only fair for him to see all the cards before choosing his play, she can’t make that decision for him.

“Any preferences?” Athena asks, running her fingers through the long curls just because she can.

Nate shrugs. “Just don’t leave me bald.”

She hums. “Yeah, you wouldn’t be able to pull it off.” Athena sees his hand ready to pinch her side and gives him a sweet smile. “You really wanna try that while I’m holding a sharp pair of scissors in my hands?”

Athena laughs when his hand falls limp to his lap. Smart man.

She has lost count long ago of how many times she’s done this. Four or five times a year times twenty years lands her somewhere between eighty and a hundred haircuts, and yet, she loses herself in the motions as if it were a novel thing. She takes her time, making sure both sides are even, combing his hair this or that way, until she stands between his spread legs to finish the top. Can’t have Nathan Drake without his signature bangs, she thinks, biting her lip to keep from laughing.

“Missed you, Athena” he mutters and when she looks down, his eyes are closed, face relaxed even when the circles under his eyes are still quite obvious.

It can wait until morning, she thinks, deciding she will show him the photo tomorrow. “I missed you, too, Nate.”

***

Journal under her arm and mug full to the brim, Athena cozies up on her couch as she waits for Nate to finish up with the dishes from breakfast. On the coffee table, she finds the note she left in Sully’s hands, wrinkled and creased. The pencil strokes look faded, like the paper has been thumbed over and over.

Come meet me whenever you can. You know where to find me.

—A

How cloak and dagger of me, she thinks with a wry smile at her dramatic turn of the phrase, but she can blame Sully being up on her case and that torture device he calls a couch for her choice of words.

How long did he have it before deciding to come, she wonders for a moment, but as Nate takes a seat by her side, she decides it doesn’t matter. He’s here and that’s enough.

“Penny for them,” he quips, sipping from his mug.

Athena smiles a little and takes the plunge. “I did want to see you, that’s one of the reasons I wrote it,” she begins, handing him the note. He stares at the worn paper for a bit, nodding. “It wasn’t the only reason, though.”

Nate gives her a small grin. “Ulterior motives, huh?”

Athena doesn’t follow along, though. “Remember I mentioned a job I did with Chloe and Charlie Cutter a few months ago?”

“I do,” he nods.

“It was a simple thing, the buyer wanted a Gutenberg bible and we found him one,” she explains and she can tell his curiosity is piqued. “I found something else there.” Athena opens her journal and takes the photo she’s been carrying around for the last three months, handing it to Nate.

The slight frown he’s wearing deepens before it clears altogether. “Marlowe,” he says barely above a whisper and Athena nods.

“Not just that…look,” she says, pointing to the corner of the image, the detail that made her decide the risk of taking the frame was worth it in the first place.

Nate’s eyes narrow as he zeroes his sight and she can spot the exact moment he realizes what he’s seeing. His lips part with a quiet gasp. “The decoder,” he breathes out. “Where did you find this?”

Athena tells him every little thing she can remember about the owner of the house, a man that also appears in the photo Nate’s still holding. “I did some digging—nothing too involved, but everyone there,” she says, pointing to the picture, “is a bigwig of some kind. And check this out.” She takes the picture and flips it, revealing the inscription she found after she returned home.

“ The order, ” Nate reads, sotto voce, and raises his eyes. “What the hell?”

“Like I said, I didn’t research much, but by that alone, I think Marlowe is part of a bigger scheme and judging by the people standing with her, it’s capital-letters big.”

They stay in silence for a minute and Athena watches as the cogs turn in Nate’s head. 

“Nate,” she says, taking a breath, “if you wanna do this, then I’m with you, but we’re gonna need some help. We can’t pull this off by ourselves.”

He nods, laying the picture on the couch between them. “They gotta be operating from the shadows, whatever it is they do. If they could’ve gotten the decoder and the ring in a clean way, we’d never have gotten there first.”

“I know,” she sighs. “Which means they don’t play by the rules.”

A slow grin curves Nate’s lips. “Then it’s a good thing neither do we.”

***

They spend the next six months arranging the most complicated set up they’ve ever involved themselves with, six months during which Nate slowly but surely moves back to Athena’s place.

“You sure Elena won’t mind?” Athena asks one night as they pause for dinner.

“What do you mean?”

She looks at him, thinking he’s being purposefully dense, but no, he’s genuinely confused. Athena rolls her eyes. “Elena doesn’t care if her husband moves out of the home you two share?” And with another woman, no less…I sure would. “That’s big of her.” 

Nate becomes sheepish, lowering his eyes to his hands. “She’s away for work and, um…we’re taking a break.”

She debates on what to say. To tell the truth, she doesn’t want to touch this subject at all, but— “If you wanna talk about it…” Athena offers with a sigh and just as she expects, Nate brushes her off with a gesture and a cocky smile, diverting her attention back to work.

They mention Sir Francis Drake to Charlie and that’s enough to get him interested. By the time they bring up the decoder, he’s agreeing to go undercover—the promise of mystery solving and maybe a treasure at the end of the line, apparently too enticing to pass up. It takes him months, but after Charlie manages to get into Marlowe’s ranks, Sully starts spreading the word that a buddy of his has an 16th century silver ring he wants to get rid of. The waiting game begins, then.

The call from Chloe comes when they’re finishing up a job in Brazil and sure enough, not twenty four hours later, some guy by the name Talbot phones Sully to arrange a meeting.

***

Athena is tying her boots when Nate shows up in the doorway.

“Tie or not tie?” He asks, already dressed in a black suit and white shirt.

She smirks. “You’re not going to a gala,” she says, taking the tie from his hand and tossing it on the bed. “Besides, you’ll only bitch about it if you wear one.”

“I do not bitch,” he bitches. 

Athena just lifts an eyebrow as Chloe calls them from the living room.

“Be right there!” Athena says, turning to Nate. “Hold up.” Rummaging through her backpack, she fishes a square box from one of the pockets and hands it to him with a small smile. “Happy birthday.”

Nate grins a little and opens the lid, eyes widening in surprise. “This is my watch,” he points out as if it weren’t an obvious thing, looking at her in puzzlement. 

“Yup,” Athena nods. “The face got smashed on the trainwreck in Nepal. I took it while you were playing Sleeping Beauty and had it fixed.”

He stares at the watch with reverence, running his thumb over the glass before strapping it to his wrist. “I thought I’d lost it.”

Athena smiles, remembering a conversation on the beach, years ago. “Yeah, well…lucky for you, I was there.”

By the way he chuckles and shakes his head, he remembers, too. “Thanks.” 

***

“Taking a break?” Chloe repeats from behind the wheel, frowning. “What does that even mean?”

“No idea and I haven’t asked,” Athena says, glancing at Chloe as she’s about to interject. “And, no, I’m not planning to.”

They make a left into a side street and kill the lights of the van, Marlowe’s car a good twenty seconds ahead of them, already turning into an alley. “I’ll check it out,” she says, jumping from the van to a nod from Chloe, and scurries through the shadows to take a peek around the corner. Almost at the end of the street, a man in a smart suit steps out of the black sedan and lifts the green gate to a warehouse. The car drives inside and Athena watches for a few extra seconds after the gate lowers with a metallic screech before signaling Chloe to move forward.

“I’m just saying,” Chloe says after she parks the van and steps out, “you could ask.”

Athena sighs. “Would you give it a rest? I’ve never meddled into his relationships, I’m not gonna start now.”

“First of all, asking isn’t meddling,” Chloe shoots back. “And even if it were, have you considered that maybe you should?”

The radio cracking with Charlie’s voice announcing they’re five minutes out saves Athena from Chloe’s so-called pearls of wisdom. Bad, bad idea, Athena thinks, forcefully shoving Chloe’s words to the back of her mind as she jogs to the van to get the handguns. Athena never really paid much attention to other people’s opinions. Why would someone with no clue to who she is would have a say in her life? And those who do know her, namely Nate and Sully, rarely choose to lead a conversation into personal territory. But Chloe is nothing if not opinionated and the friendship they’ve unwittingly built grants her a way of sowing doubts in Athena’s head even without meaning to, like a superpower of hers that Athena doesn’t quite know how to battle. The perils of letting someone in, Athena muses, as she attaches the silencers to the guns. She hears Chloe greeting the guys and shakes her head, shutting the rear doors of the van and walking back to the group. Head in the game, Athena.  

“You’re unusually quiet,” Chloe says to Nate as Athena reaches them, giving Sully and Charlie a gun. “What’s up your bum?”

“Oh, well,” Nate pipes out, glancing at Charlie, “Charlie seemed to enjoy himself a little bit too much for my taste.”

Charlie rolls his eyes. “Here we go…”

“My ears are still ringing.”

“Oh, for God’s sake.”

Chloe’s eyebrows shoot up as she gives Athena an amused look. “Looks like we missed out on some fun.”

“Yeah, you did actually.” Charlie grins. “It was very, very, ah—cathartic.”

“Funny,” Nate deadpans, shifting his attention to Athena. “They didn’t see you trailing ‘em?”

Athena scoffs, handing him the last gun. “Ye of little faith.”

“So, which door is Scary Poppins hiding behind?” Charlie asks.

Athena turns, pointing to the end of the street. “The green one. They drove in ages ago and it’s been dark ever since.”

“You think they’re still in there?”

“Well, we haven’t taken our eyes off it,” Chloe says as they walk to the warehouse. “And no one’s gone in or out.”

***

The brick wall parts for them with the metallic whirr of mechanisms unlatching, giving way to a dimly lit tunnel that looks shady in every sense of the word. If Athena had any lingering doubts about whether they are dealing with a secret society or not, this would tip the scales in favor of that theory. 

Chloe heads back to the van and they start making their way through the tunnel. She would be lying if she said she’s not unnerved by all the secrecy, but the curiosity piqued by that decoder has had almost twenty years to grow and it outshines any wariness holding Athena back. She looks at Nate as he walks by her side, wondering if his excitement beats all his misgivings as well, and by the smile he gives her, she knows it does.

They sneak in through the service tunnels, finding that water damage has washed away complete parts of the structure, cutting ravines into their path.

“Come on,” Nate calls, going for one of those spaces between still surviving rock. “We should be able to squeeze through here. I think.”

“Lead on, Macduff,” Sully says to Charlie’s scoff.

“Oh for God’s sake.”

“What?”

“Lay on,” Charlie stresses with a tired sigh, “it’s ‘Lay on, Macduff.’”

Athena chuckles, walking behind Nate. “I wouldn’t diss Shakespeare around him, Sully.”

Sully sighs and follows her into the crevice and they slowly make their way across, Charlie at the rear.

“Oh, thank God for that,” Charlie breathes out after they clear the narrow pass, sounding winded.

“Who the hell is Macduff?” Nate snarks and Athena bites back a smile, for it was Nate himself who put a copy of Macbeth in her hands when she was fifteen. He damn well knows who Macduff is, but he’s trying to distract Charlie.

Charlie looks at him, borderline horrified not by claustrophobia, but by Nate’s words. “Is there no bottom to your ignorance?”

The beams of flashlights interrupt the banter and all four of them hide in the shadows, waiting for the men to come closer. Nate and Charlie make quick work of knocking them out, giving them free passes deeper into the bowels of the underground tunnel system.

***

“Whoa…” Charlie runs a hand over a marble carved fireplace of a room that definitely rings bells in Athena's head. “This stonework.”

“Looks like Tudor, sixteenth century,” Nate says, giving Athena a knowing look and she nods. It’s the same style of building where that picture was taken. “Up this way.”

“Quietly, Nate,” she says when he takes the wooden stairs in a rush and he slows down, as they follow closely behind.

They make it to a mezzanine that opens through a balcony to a bigger ground floor of a library, walls covered with either bookcases or relics of some kind. Who the hell are these people, she thinks, as they crouch behind the balustrade.

“I’m not interested in your excuses,” a woman says, strong voice echoing against the stone walls.

Marlowe, Nate mouths by her side, though Athena recognizes the disdain almost instantly. Hard to forget anything about the first person who actively tried to kill us.

Marlowe keeps going. “He was a loose cannon and you should have known.”

“Yes, it is regrettable—” A tall, lanky man in a suit starts, but Marlowe shushes him immediately.

“Not regrettable. Sloppy. Your poor judgment could have cost us everything.” Athena leans forward a bit, getting a clearer view of the people below, as Marlowe opens a chest and takes the decoder in her hands. “Four hundred years of searching,” she says, as the man offers her the ring they took from Nate. “Finally—Drake’s secret will be revealed.”

Athena watches Marlowe struggle to make the two pieces of the puzzle fit with deep seated satisfaction, knowing that no matter how hard she tries, she won’t be able to. Athena had been in charge of the ring and she had asked the jeweler to make the copy just a smidge wider than the original.

“What is this?” Marlowe barks, holding the ring in her fingers.

Dumbfounded, the man shakes his head. “I don’t understand…”

Marlowe examines the ring under a magnifying glass, scoffing after a moment. “It’s a forgery.”

“What?” The man squeaks. “That’s not possible. I verified it myself… This isn’t the ring.”

Athena looks at Nate only to find his eyes are already on her, dancing with mirth. She grins like a maniac and has to bite her lip to avoid laughing.

“Really…” Marlowe bites out, clearly out of patience.

“I held it in my hands—I saw him put it around his neck.” The man insists. “This doesn’t make sense…”

“We’ve been duped.”

And after a beat, the man finally reaches the obvious conclusion. “...Cutter.”

Athena can’t quite see Marlowe’s face from her position, but she can imagine her displeased expression rather well. 

Fit to be tied, Marlowe leaves a couple of men standing guard and exits the library as she barks more and more orders. They spread out, knocking the men unconscious and rushing to the table because it’s only a matter of time before they’re discovered.

“This is quite the operation they’ve got going here,” Sully comments as he gazes at their surroundings. There’s not a corner in this room without something interesting Athena would love to take a second or third look at. Alas, time isn’t on their side.

Nate, though, seems to forget that. “Look at all this stuff,” he says, getting close and personal with a huge spider in a jar filled with what Athena assumes must be formaldehyde. “Eugh.”

Athena rolls her eyes and lays a hand on his shoulder. “Nate, we don’t have much time here.”

He sighs but gets right to business, which is good enough for her, but instead of going for the decoder, Nate picks up a journal with several maps, drawings and notes.

“What are you—” Sully starts, but Nate interrupts as he flips through the notebook.

“My God, do you know what this is?” He mutters and Athena frowns. A photo falls off on the table and Athena picks it up. The face staring back is so familiar, but she can’t quite put her finger on who the man is.

“It’s a book, mate,” Charlie says, pinching the bridge of his nose. “There’s a lot of them in here, it’s a library.”

“It’s not just any book, wise-ass,” Nate says, short. “Belonged to T.E. Lawrence—Y’know, ‘Lawrence of Arabia’.”

“Yes, yes, yes, I know who he is,” Charlie says in a rush.

“This was mailed from Dorset on the day of his motorcycle accident,” Athena says, picking up an old manila envelope, “May 13, 1935.”

“They must’ve killed him once they got their hands on it,” Nate mutters.

Sully frowns. “They? ”

“Yeah, ‘they.’ They. Them.” Nate gestures vaguely to their surroundings. “Whoever these people are.”

Charlie scoffs. “Oh, what a lot of rubbish. It was an accident.”

“Witnesses saw a black car run him off the road.”

“Oh, what, so it was a big cover-up?”

Nate shrugs. “Maybe.”

Sully gives her a long suffering look, and yeah, she agrees. Now’s not the fucking time.

“Nate!” Athena says, firm.

He turns to her. “What?”

Sully scoffs as Athena hands him the decoder a bit harshly. “That thing that we have been waiting twenty years for?”

“Right,” he mutters and takes the real ring, placing it in the middle of the brass disk, as Athena opens her old journal, finding the letter she had copied all those years ago in Cartagena. Nate works the decoder and Athena writes the translation under the symbols on the yellowed paper.

“Huh,” Nate comments, taking out a pencil himself and working alongside Athena to unscramble the letters.

“What is it?” Charlie asks with curiosity.

“Ahh, it’s…‘Long Hidden’,” Nate says, absentminded, consumed with different iterations.

“What?!” Sully yelps and Charlie shushes him to no avail. “No shit, ‘Long Hidden’—are you kidding me?”

Charlie groans. “No offense, mate, but your ancestor was a right asshole.”

“Would you two shut up, it’s an anagram,” Nate barks. 

Athena’s eyes go to Nate’s handwriting: he spelled ‘gilded’, but crossed it out. It sparks an idea in her mind. “Nate…” she mutters as she writes ‘golden’. 

“His ship,” he whispers, adding ‘hind’ in his blocky letters next to her cursive. “‘Golden Hind’,” he says, a smile slowly curving his lips. “The Golden Hind.”

“Drake’s ship,” Athena finishes, smiling as well.

***

They find a map seconds before Marlowe’s men return in force, ambushing them in the library. Athena pockets the decoder and T.E. Lawrence’s journal and they manage to fight their way out. In the rush, though, they make a wrong turn and soon they’re running through tunnels they’ve never seen before, dodging sniper fire and goons with shotguns. There’s no pause to be had and no way but forward, though; Marlowe has a small army at her beck and call, constantly threatening to overwhelm them. Lucky for them, Charlie realizes where the hell they are and tells Chloe through the radio. It’s not the smoothest exit they’ve ever pulled, but it gets the job done. 

They gather around Chloe’s table, the map they’ve found right in the middle, as Nate explains the connection between Drake’s and Lawrence’s travels and Athena leafs again through Lawrence’s cryptic passages.

“...after the war, Lawrence said that if he were ever to go back to Arabia, it would be to search for this place he called ‘The Atlantis of the Sands’,” Nate says and Athena looks up at that because she’s come across the tale several times, but she’d never considered it could refer to a real place. “Now the legend crops up over and over again under different names—Ubar, Iram of the Pillars, The City of Brass… but the story is always the same.”

Nate moves closer to her, pointing to a particular note from Lawrence. “‘A city of immeasurable wealth, destroyed by God for its arrogance…swallowed forever in the sands of the Rub’ al Khali desert.’” Athena reads, and yes, that pretty much describes what she has heard about it up until this point.

“Right here,” Nate says, index finger falling on a precise point of the map.

Sully chuckles. “Well, I like the ‘immeasurable wealth’ part, anyway.”

“And you think this is what Elizabeth and Dee sent Drake after,” Charlie asks Nate, sitting back on his chair.

“Oh yeah,” he nods. “And more importantly, it’s what Marlowe is after.”

“Hold on,” Athena interrupts, closing Lawrence’s journal, “lemme get this straight. Queen Elizabeth and John Dee send Drake to search for this place and he finds…something, but once he gets back to England, he not only lies about it, but rather goes to all this trouble to hide whatever he found.” Nate nods and Athena’s doubts multiply. “Why?”

He shrugs. “I don’t know.”

“Oh, I’m sorry—” Charlie snarks, cupping his ear with his hand, “what was that?”

But Chloe is the one who cuts in this time. “No, hang on a second. Because, if you recall, the last time we went halfway around the world searching for a lost city, things got more than a little dicey.”

“Yeah, but this time we have the upper hand,” Nate shoots back. “I mean…look, Drake only had half the clues. Lawrence only had half. We have both. And Marlowe has nothing.”

“Small problem,” Sully says, pointing to the map. “The Rub’ al Khali desert—six hundred miles across. The Bedouin go around the damn thing.”

And Chloe finishes the thought. “Even if we knew where it was—which we don’t—we would die trying to find it.”

Nate sighs and Athena can almost taste his frustration. “Just—hold on. You see these symbols here?” He runs his fingers over the edges of the map. “It’s—

“Looks like Sabaean script,” Sully offers.

“—Sabaean script.” Nate nods to Sully, half surprised. “Right.” Chloe fistbumps Sully to Athena’s chuckles, as Nate returns to Lawrence’s notes. “Look, the Crusaders were searching for the same lost city a thousand years ago. But out of all the sites Lawrence documented, only two are marked with these symbols. One, in Syria. The other, in France.”

Chloe’s hand shoots up into the air but Nate shakes his head. “No…you two are going to Syria,” he tells Charlie and Chloe, whose shoulders drop in disappointment. “We’re heading to France. Look, we track down these clues, we find Lawrence’s lost city. I’m sure of it.”

“Say we do,” Athena nods, following along. “That still leaves the small matter of six hundred miles of impassable wasteland.”

“Well,” Nate smirks, turning to her, “it’s in the middle of the desert, so technically it’d be about three hundred miles.”

That brings up a mix of chuckles and scoffs from Charlie, Athena and Chloe while Sully remains pensieve behind his cigar.

“Look, I don’t know,” Nate shrugs with a confidence that should be illegal. “We’ll figure it out.”

Athena has known this man for twenty years and it still surprises her sometimes how his charisma can cover for his shit planning.

“We burn that bridge when we get to it, eh?” Chloe teases.

“Exactly,” Nate says, looking around the table until his eyes land on Athena’s doubtful ones. “Whaddya say?”

She takes a breath to answer but Sully beats her to the punch with a lopsided smile. “What the hell.”

***

Athena whistles appreciatively at the first sight of the chateau. “Lord Godfrey sure lived in style,” she says as they near the once opulent mansion. Now in ruins and covered in overgrowth, the place still manages to impress with its sheer scale.

“Eh,” Sully shrugs, nodding to a strange contraption in the middle of what once was the front of the property. “His lawn art is tacky.”

“Money can’t buy taste, I guess.” She chuckles, climbing the front steps. Pulling a handful of vines aside, she tries to wiggle the door open, to no avail. Sighing, she shakes her head to Sully.

“Not getting in this way, then,” he summarizes.

“That would’ve been too easy,” Nate says and points to a broken tower. “I bet I can climb up through that hole.”

“I bet you can,” Sully offers.

“Let me guess,” Nate drawls. “You’re gonna sit tight, smoke a cigar again.”

“Yeah,” he says, unapologetic.

Nate turns to Athena, trying to mask his amusement. “And you?”

“I’m gonna keep him company while you find us a way in,” she says with a saccharine smile.

Nate gives them a long suffering sigh. “Alright. Be right back.”

He doesn’t take long at all. In fact, Sully barely has time to light his cigar before Nate opens a window for them, and just like that, they’re in.

“We gotta make our way through the chateau to the gardens,” Nate says as Athena drops into what seems to have been a ballroom. “That’s where we’ll find the old keep.”

She takes a good look around, noticing the surviving gold leaf in the plaster cornices and the damask silk curtains that must have been vibrant red once upon a time. This must’ve been something in its heyday, she thinks. And yet, for all the decay surrounding her, there’s also beauty in the way nature has reclaimed the place with its moss, vines and wildflowers. “Oh man, look at this place,” she breathes out, half enchanted. She feels herself returning to reality as she lowers her eyes from the frescoes and moldings of the ceiling, finding Nate gazing at her, eyes soft and somewhat distracted. “What?”

He smiles and shakes his head. “How many balls d’you think were held here?”

“Tons,” she says, voice a bit wistful, giving him a mischievous smile. “Too bad I left my ball gown in my other suitcase.” 

He chuckles a little and his arm brushes hers as his shoulders shake. “Shame, that.”

A throat clearing from the other end of the room has Athena’s head shooting towards Sully, who stands by a blocked door, looking at them with a knowing smile. “I could use some help if you’re done doin’…whatever it is you’re doin’.”

***

“You’re gonna do this right on top of Lancelot, huh?” Sully asks, amused, as Nate makes an imprint of the half of the clay amulet they find. And good thing, too, because Talbot catches up with them as soon as they step out of the cript, taking the amulet from them and wounding Nate in the process.

After that come the spiders—the sound of hundreds if not thousands of spiders crawling from the darkness and consuming one of Talbot’s men right in front of their eyes will be the fuel for her nightmares for the rest of her life, Athena is sure. They seem to come from every nook and cranny: the walls, floor and ceiling of the cript writhe and contort with the insects and the only thing that keeps them alive is that they seem to hate the light of their quickly dying torch. Sully finds them a way out and they hightail out of there as fast as they can. Once they reach sunlight, Athena can’t even bring herself to care that she landed awkwardly on her bad arm, she’s just glad they’re alive and safe from the critters from hell.

Of course, it all hinges on the fact that this turns out to be one of those ‘out of the frying pan, into the fire’ kind of situations—quite literally, because that sick bastard Talbot torches the place as they’re trying to escape.

“What kind of idiot sticks inside the place their boss just set on fire?!” Athena screams, frustrated with these people's bullshit as she takes cover and reloads her gun. Talbot’s men pinned them down yet again. Assholes.

“These ones!” Nate yells as he keeps shooting and the ceiling groans above them.

“Nate!” Sully says between coughs. “We need to get the hell outta here!”

“I know, I know!”

Athena’s eyes narrow, irritated and teary by the quickly gathering smoke, zeroing in a flight of stairs beyond a burning wall. “Nate! Over there!” She hands him the last grenade she has, the best distraction they can cook up in the rush and they run for their lives, hoping the goons have any sort of survival instincts and choose to save themselves rather than keep shooting at them. When bullets still fly their way, Athena guesses she has her answer.

Athena climbs the steps two at the time and reaches the second story landing first, but stops as she hears the characteristic creak of wood splintering. The fire advances in leaps and bounds, debilitating the already weak structure, and the stairs cave under Nate and Sully’s feet, leaving them hanging precariously from the wall as the fire rages on the ground level. 

“Oh, crap!” Nate screams as one of his handholds gives under his hand, but manages to right himself. “Keep going, Sully!”

He’s too far, Athena thinks, as she watches Sully eyeing the landing from his position. She drops to her stomach, frantically reaching for Sully’s hand. “C’mon, Sully! Jump!” There’s fear in his eyes and she’s sure hers aren’t any different, but he makes the leap, hand latching onto hers and there’s a second she thinks they’re done for as her body slides forward towards the ledge. Athena reacts quickly, wrapping her free hand around a spoke of the surviving balustrade, and pulls with all her strength until Sully can reach the edge of the landing.

“Move it, kid!” Sully pants once he’s by her side and helping Nate up is considerably easier as a joint work. Athena sends a quick thanks to their lucky stars, because had it been Nate the one closest to her, she’s not sure she could have held his weight by herself.

“C’mon, c’mon,” Nate says, climbing the next flight of stairs in a frenzy.

They make it to the roof and the fire has already reached this high, consuming some sections of it, but there’s no time to ponder about structural safety because Athena catches movement by the corner of her eye, and when she turns, she sees the highest tower slowly crumbling towards them.

“Run!” She screeches and takes off, zigzagging her way to the edge, when a blast from within the building sends them flying towards an adjacent roof. She skids down the slick slope of terracotta tiles, getting a grip on an old metal gutter that digs into the palms of her hands, but she doesn’t let go.

“Through here,” Sully calls, sliding down the two stories over the gutter pipe.

Athena follows, hearing Nate behind her as they escape the raging inferno.

***

“We have to fly commercial while you get Sully’s plane,” Chloe had complained before they left London. 

The memory tugs her lips into a smile because Chloe wouldn’t have made that remark had she flown with Sully before. There’s nothing wrong with Sully’s skills—he’s a hell of a pilot, in fact—but the plane’s insulation is close to nonexistent and at these altitudes, the air is fucking cold. I’d take that commercial flight right about now, Athena thinks, zipping up her hoodie.

She can see Nate patting Sully’s shoulder in the cabin as he stands up and she starts rummaging through her backpack for her first aid kit. He looks ready to take a nap, but Athena moves closer, wagging the plastic box and he nods with a sigh.

The bullet just grazed his arm, but infected wounds are a pain in the ass to deal with—not to mention dangerous. Better safe than sorry.

“Lift up your sleeve,” she says, taking a seat by his side, and it’s a challenge, but she manages not to ogle him as he takes off his shirt entirely.

Nate shrugs. “I have to change it anyway.”

She hums, focusing on cleaning first the edges and then the wound itself with rubbing alcohol as Nate hisses. The bleeding stopped a while ago and after it’s disinfected, there’s little to do but wrap it in gauze. 

Athena’s eyes glance at Sully’s back several times, unable to take his words out of her head.

You’ve got your pride all tangled up in this thing, it’s making you reckless, Sully had told Nate after they’d made it out, and Athena’s knee-jerk reaction had been to deny it. But before she could open her mouth, she had given it a second thought and Sully’s words didn’t ring empty. Ever since she had shown Nate that picture, he became obsessed and while she’s well acquainted with Nate’s tunnel vision when it comes to treasure hunting, she’s starting to fear his priorities aren’t the ones she thought they were. It’s in his zeal to push forward, in the way he almost spits Marlowe’s name whenever it comes into conversation, in the unrestrained glee in his whole demeanor at the thought they might beat the woman to the punch. 

Are you after the treasure or after revenge? Athena thinks as she tapes the gauze with a frown. 

“You’re quiet,” Nate points out and, unbidden, Athena’s eyes go to Sully again before looking at Nate.

“Just thinking,” she says, returning to her backpack and leaving the first aid kit.

“Dangerous thing, that,” Nate comments.

Athena’s head, though, is too filled with questions by now to react to his humor. “What are we doing here, Nate?” She says, turning to him and handing him his own bag.

He gives her one of his winning smiles. “We’re flying to Syria, remember?”

“No, don’t be a smartass,” she says, crouching before him, “I’m serious.”

Nate looks at her for a moment before groaning. “Oh, c’mon, not you too.”

But Athena pushes harder. “Answer the question. What are we after?”

He tries to cover his annoyance by shaking his head, but Athena stands and crosses her arms, waiting. “We’re after Drake’s trail to Ubar. There, happy?”

“You sure about that?” She’s truly curious about the answer but Nate takes it as a taunt.

His face hardens as he returns to his search for a shirt that he puts on with jerky, obviously angry moves. “What do you want me to say, Athena?”

“That this isn’t some quest to show Marlowe up for what happened in Cartagena.”

He huffs a laugh that barely masks the tension in his body. “That’s ridiculous.”

And with that, he turns and heads for the cabin again, forgoing sleep and leaving Athena with a sense of dread pooling in her stomach.

Gonna get yourself killed…hell, probably get us all killed, Sully had said.

Athena has never wished for Sully to be wrong as much as she does now.

***

They land in Syria in the middle of the night, but that actually works in their favor. The old fortress doubles up as a museum and an archeological site during the day, so if Chloe and Charlie are going to break in and search for clues, it would be under the cover of night. 

“Damn it,” Athena bites out when the call goes straight to voicemail again, anxiety rising in the pit of her stomach. She turns to the plane as Nate walks towards her, adjusting his holster. 

“Still can’t reach them?” He asks and she shakes her head, redialling Chloe’s number, only to be disappointed once more. “Something is definitely not right,” Nate mutters.

“Nothin’?” Sully asks as he joins them.

“Nothing,” she says with a sigh.

“Then we better hustle,” Sully says, walking towards the airfield’s main building.

***

The fact that they find the front gate’s chain cut gives them an inkling they’re not the first ones here and not five minutes go by until they come across with guards posted at strategic points of the complex. Talbot’s men, though, don’t seem to be on high alert and Athena hopes that’s because Charlie and Chloe are being subtle enough to go unnoticed rather than the possibility of them already being captured. It does make it easier to knock them unconscious.

They slink through the shadows in the direction of the stairs, hoping to get a better lay out of the place from high ground, but Nate suddenly stops. “Listen,” he whispers and sure enough, muffled voices and footsteps ring rather close to them.

Another patrol? Seriously? Athena bites back a groan and looks back, finding Sully has already unholstered his pistol. She imitates him, readying herself to get the jump on the goons around the corner, knowing that surprising them is their best bet. They really need to get on those stairs.

Nate gives the signal and the three of them move forward in a rush, guns ready and aimed at the guards…that aren’t guards at all.

“What the hell?” Sully whispers, shoulders dropping.

Chloe lowers her gun, frowning. “Why aren’t you in France?”

“We’re…rescuing you…” Nate says, confused and it sounds more like a question than an affirmation.

“From what?” Charlie asks.

“We thought you’d been captured,” Athena says with a sigh, reholstering her gun.

“Or worse,” Sully adds.

Chloe and Charlie seem puzzled. “Wait, why?”

“Well, Talbot ambushed us at the chateau,” Nate explains. “It was a trap.”

“And we figured they must’ve followed you, too,” Athena finishes, relief rushing through her body.

“Well, yeah.” Charlie gives them a wry smile. “They’re definitely here—”

“Yeah, no kiddin’,” Sully chimes in with a groan.

“—so we might want to think about keeping it down a little,” he says, looking specifically at Nate.

“What happened to you two?” Athena says, unable to keep the chagrin from her voice. “We’ve been trying to reach you for over twenty-four hours.”

“Oh, right,” Charlie says, wholly unconcerned. “I need to top up my minutes.”

Nate’s eyes widen. “You’re using a prepaid phone?!”

“Mate,” Charlie says, clapping Nate’s shoulder, “those contracts are a complete rip-off.”

Oh, for the love of… Athena runs a hand over her face, trying to keep her cool, and looks at Chloe expecting an explanation, because they’ve been calling both of them, not just Charlie ‘cheapskate’ Cutter.

But Chloe just shrugs. “What? Mine’s broken.”

Which is total bananas to Athena: she’d bought one before leaving London. “Again?”

“Look, just forget all that,” Charlie cuts in, taking his journal from his pocket as he gives them an elated smile. “You’ll never guess what we’ve discovered. I’ve got it all in here… Not only did Elizabeth’s spy network stretch all the way over here,” he explains, excited, as Nate and Athena huddle around Charlie’s notes to get a look. “But they were all part of some sort of Hermetic secret society. The British Occult Secret Service, The School of Night, the Hellfire Club, the Order of the Golden Dawn—they’re all connected.”

“So John Dee—” Nate starts, but Charlie’s on a roll.

“—and Francis Walsingham, and Walter Raleigh, and even your mate Drake, they were all in on it. But for them it was all about the power—controlling their enemies through espionage, deception, fear.”

Behind Athena, Sully sighs. “Hey, guys?”

“Wait, wait,” Nate shushes, never looking away from Charlie. “So Marlowe and her crew—”

Charlie nods. “Are the same secret order, four hundred years on.”

Athena walks back a few steps, a frown on her face. It makes sense, she thinks, the power and the level of organization…it makes sense. All those big names in that picture and the fact she found it in the home of an old, aristocratic family.  

Sully runs a hand over his face in obvious impatience. “Will you cut to the goddamn chase, please?” 

By her side, Chloe nods. “Yeah, we really need to keep moving.”

“Sure, sure…” Charlie mutters in a rush, looking through his journal. “Here, look: quod est superius— ”

“ —est sicut quod est inferius, ” Nate finishes reading. “ As above, so below. ”

Charlie grins, nodding. “That’s the key to all of this.”

“We need to get to the highest point of this castle,” Nate urges, returning the journal to Charlie.

Glee never leaving his features, Charlie makes a grand gesture towards the wall behind them. “Thus the stairs.”

***

Athena lands on the rickety scaffolding and almost loses her balance, but Chloe helps her right herself. “Thanks,” she says, turning as Nate makes his jump. As his feet connect with the loose, wooden planks, an entire piece of the structure falls apart and Athena recoils, gripping Nate’s hand and pulling him backwards. Still breathing hard and eyes going up to Charlie, who stands at the edge of the tower looking down warily, Athena realizes that with the scaffolding gone, it’s too far a distance. “Shit.”

“C’mon, Cutter!” Sully urges, but Nate shakes his head.

“He can’t make it,” he concludes and Athena hears the desperation in his voice, because Talbot's men were at their heels moments ago. They can't stop and they can't leave Charlie behind to get caught. After the betrayal, Marlowe will kill him.

“Okay, what can we do?” Chloe says, nerves getting the best of her. “What can we do?”

“Nothing,” Athena mutters as she sees Talbot and a group of goons looming over Charlie and she has to swallow back a frustrated yell when one of the mercenaries clocks him, sending him to the ground.

“Jesus, this is unbearable,” Chloe bites out. 

On the tower, Talbot takes the other piece of the amulet they found and Marlowe slowly approaches Charlie with that condescending expression Athena recognizes from her teenage years. Athena swallows the bile rising up her throat as Marlowe’s men start pouring gasoline and the crazy bitch lights a match, a pleased, sick smile on her face. The fire comes alive in an instant, cornering Charlie against the ledge of the tower’s roof, and regardless of the distance, Athena can see it as soon as he turns around: his fists open and close several times before taking a deep breath, jaw hardening in determination. He’s gonna jump.  

“Charlie, don’t,” Nate whispers by her side, but it’s too late. By then, he’s already on free fall and the sickening sound of bone shattering echoes throughout the courtyard.

“Hurry! Go!” Sully shouts, but Athena is already on the move, following right behind Chloe as they make their way down the scaffolding as fast as they can.

They find Charlie shaking like a leaf in adrenaline and pain, cursing up a storm and threatening to kill every single one of Talbot’s men between clenched teeth. Athena grimaces, kneeling by his side and slowly helps him to sit up, torn between the worry for his obviously broken leg and relief he didn’t snap his neck. 

“Jesus! My leg!” Charlie groans, sweat beading on his forehead. “Don’t touch it!” He barks at Nate when he tries to feel if the bones have shifted.

“It’s broken,” Nate says, moving his hands away in a placating gesture.

Not that it matters, because Charlie’s in no condition to be patient or understanding. “I know it’s broken!”

“Easy does it, mate,” Chloe says, softly patting his shoulder.

“Just breathe, Charlie,” Athena mutters, biting her lip when the sense of helplessness threatens to overwhelm her. She can’t lose herself in those thoughts, though; they’re not out of the woods just yet. 

“We can’t stay here,” Chloe says, cocking a bullet into the chamber of the only gun they have.

An agonizing sound escapes Charlie’s throat. “Just leave me—” 

“No way,” Nate interrupts, shaking his head, already hooking one of Charlie’s arms around his neck. “We’re getting you outta here.”

Sully does the same with Charlie’s other arm. “C’mon…get up.” 

They set off towards the fortress’ exit, which isn’t far away at all, but it’s as slow-going as Athena suspected it would be. Charlie grunts with every step they take forward, looking seriously lightheaded, just shy of passing out from the pain. The sun is already rising towards the east and soon enough, the place will be crawling with guards and tourists, not to mention Talbot isn’t exactly done with them. 

Bullets whiz past their heads and they're forced to take cover behind a wall. They're pinned down.

“Shit,” Chloe says, voice dripping with frustration. “It’s an ambush!”

Athena takes a peek around the corner, counting the men and reaching for the grenade attached to her belt. “Remember Nepal?” She tells Chloe with a quirked eyebrow.

Chloe huffs, somewhat amused. “I hope you have a plan to go with that grenade.”

“Just cover me,” she says with a small grin. Her eyes unwittingly shift to Nate. “Be right back.”

Athena hears Nate as he calls her name a couple of times, but she doesn’t look back and slinks away as quickly as she can while keeping herself out of sight, trying to flank Talbot’s patrol. The goons are huddled up behind a fortification and just past them is the drawbridge they need to cross to get the hell out of here, once and for all. But as she comes to the last safe spot she can reach, she realizes she’s not near enough. She’ll have to make a run for it and she’ll be in the line of fire for several seconds. Athena’s eyes roam her surroundings, desperate for an alternative but there’s nothing to it: if she wants to get closer, she’ll have to play sitting duck hoping Chloe still has enough bullets to cover her.

Breathing labored, Athena waits for the men to reload and when the gunfire stops, she’s off. No guts, no glory, Sam used to say, and while Athena isn’t after any laurels or renown, as Chloe opens fire and she makes her final run towards Talbot’s men’s position, Athena finds Sam’s words fitting because he would have made this kind of stupid decision, too. Heart pounding in her ears, she pulls off the safety ring mid-run, throwing the grenade just as Chloe stops shooting, and diving head first into a shallow, square hole in the ground. She feels the harsh landing with her whole body. The burn in her elbow makes her wince as the explosion echoes off the stone walls and her eardrums quake with the expansive wave, but the sound of gunfire stops entirely and Athena breathes a winded sigh of relief, eyes going to the purple dawn sky as she lies on her back on for a second. 

Athena sits up with a groan and watches Nate running towards her. The feel of his warm hands around her shoulders as he helps her to stand makes her smile a little, chest burning for reasons that have nothing to do with her tired lungs or hammering heartbeat.

“You okay?” He asks and she nods, but by the way he still holds her as his gaze roams over her, he doesn’t believe her.

“Let’s get the hell outta here!” Chloe calls from across the courtyard as she helps Sully with Charlie.

“Right behind you,” she says and looks at Nate, a hand wrapping around his. “I’m fine. Promise.”

Doubt lingers on his face, but he nods and they hurry after the others.

***

They steal a bus once they make it outside, loading an ashen Charlie as carefully as they can with more of Talbot’s men on their tail. Sully drives them out of the place and after a few minutes of traveling winding roads in relative calm, they start to relax.

“Looks like we lost ‘em,” Nate comments, checking the rear window.

“Alright,” Sully nods. “I’ll find someplace to ditch the bus.”

Athena takes a seat by Charlie as her adrenaline rush fades and the aches start surfacing. “You doing alright?” She mutters.

“Oh, fabulous,” Charlie says through clenched teeth, grimacing with each pothole Sully hits.

Chloe sighs. “That was too close.” And yeah, Athena agrees. She knew from the onset that this would be a dangerous trip given who they’re pitting themselves against, but as the bus trudges forward and her breath slowly returns to a normal level, reality creeps up on her. There’s a difference between expecting some ruthless competition to actually watching a deranged Charlie squeezing the life out of Nate after Talbot drugged him with god knows what. Marlowe has gone all out on this quest, proving again and again that they’re not only collateral damage. The woman would be ecstatic to see them gone for good. 

“He’ll be okay,” Nate tells Chloe, patting Charlie’s shoulder.

Chloe shakes her head, a frown marring her face. “No, I mean the whole thing. It just isn’t worth it, Nate. Let this one go.”

“No, no, no, no,” Charlie interjects in a rush, “you can’t just give up. If you let these bastards win after this, I will never bloody forgive you.”

Athena watches the interaction as the clipped conversation she had with Nate as they were leaving France rolls in her head, knowing that there’s no chance of Nate cutting his losses now.

“Don’t you worry, Charlie,” Nate says around a small smirk. “There’s no way I’m letting them win.”

That sets Chloe off. “What is it with you?” She says in disbelief. “What are you trying to prove?”

Nate shrugs. “I’m not trying to prove anything.”

“Right,” Chloe bites back, clearly not buying a single word. For a moment, it seems she’ll push the subject, but then, Athena sees Chloe’s shoulders sag as Nate heads for the front of the bus to talk to Sully.

***

Chloe hands Athena her bag after crossing the tarmac to Sully’s plane, but she doesn’t let go of the handles and Athena looks back to her friend, a puzzled look on her face. Chloe’s features twist with emotion for a moment and she lowers her head, staring at the dirty concrete with single minded focus. Athena guesses that whatever she wants to say feels too heavy and real to just blurt out, so she waits patiently since she understands that caring for people rarely comes easy. But Athena also knows that Chloe is as brave as they come, which is why when her dark eyes stare into Athena’s green ones, it doesn’t come as a surprise. 

“I know you’d follow him to the ends of the earth,” Chloe starts in a low voice and Athena opens her mouth to speak, but Chloe shakes her head. “You would and whatever I say won’t make you change your mind.” Athena takes a deep breath, feeling the weight of her friend’s words because she isn’t wrong. She nods jerkily and Chloe sighs. “Just—be smart about it, yeah?”

Athena’s lips curve in a small smile. “I’m always smart.”

That pulls a snort out of Chloe. “Sure.” She steps forward, dropping the duffel, and wraps Athena in a quick but tight hug. “Fair warning,” she says after moving back, “I already have a job lined up after this and I could use a second pair of hands.”

Athena’s eyebrows shoot up. “I guess I’d better come back, then.”

Chloe gives her a sardonic smile. “The least you can do.”

***

Eager to stretch her legs, Athena is the first one to step onto Yemeni soil and she spots Elena’s blond, messy bun right away. Elena obviously catches sight of them, too, because she starts walking their way with a smile on her face.

“Athena,” Elena says, giving her a quick hug that she reciprocates. “It’s been a while. How are you?”

“I’m good.” She nods, smiling a little when she notices Elena’s badge. “Foreign correspondent, huh? Congrats.”

Athena can tell she loves the job by the way her eyes light up at the merest of mentions. “Thanks,” she says, smile widening for a moment. But then Elena’s eyes get lost in the distance, somewhere over Athena’s shoulder. It’s not a hard guess to say Nate is heading their way and Athena watches Elena with curiosity as her features morph. Her smile grows restrained as she fiddles with her wedding band absentmindedly, only to stop the movement abruptly, like she’s just realized what she was doing. 

Athena steps back as Nate and Sully greet Elena, trying to intrude as little as possible, but before the stiffness can set between them, Elena cuts through the moment with her straight-to-business attitude, which Athena welcomes with open arms.

“So, against my better judgment…” Elena says, handing them badges. “These permits will get you through most checkpoints.”

“Okay, great.” Nate nods, fixing it to his shirt pocket.

“Oh, and I shouldn’t be worried about what's in those bags, right?” Elena chimes in as they start making their way to the airfield’s main building.

“‘Course not,” Sully says with a winning smile.

“No,” Nate echoes with a resolute shake of his head.

Athena has to bite back a chuckle at Elena’s skeptical expression.

“All right,” Elena says after taking a deep breath, “remember: you’re journalists now. So try and act respectable.”

Nate turns to Athena and quirks an eyebrow. “Think you can handle that?”

Athena mirrors the expression, lips twitching. “I think she’s talking to you.” But as she looks at Elena, all traces of lightheartedness vanish. 

Arms crossed and face full of suspicion, Elena’s narrowed eyes fixate on Nate. “So what exactly are you up to?” 

Right…battle picking still isn’t her forte. Athena sighs as Nate bullshits his way around the question and they’re off.

It’s uncanny how Elena and Nate can turn a stilted conversation into a bickering match in a matter of seconds and Athena has been witness to the occurrence one too many times. She gives Sully a baleful look, desperate for an out and he seems to take pity on her. Maybe he’s feeling just as awkward as she is. Whichever the case, Sully decides to interrupt. “Excuse me. The car, where is it?”

Without missing a beat, Elena points to a Land Rover parked a few yards away. “It’s over there.”

“We’ll just take the bags and meet you,” Sully says and Athena has never been this thrilled to be put up for manual labor without being consulted as she is now. 

***

“All set?” Sully asks from the front passenger seat as Nate and Elena get in the car. “If you could just drop us at the edge of the city, that would be great.” He says as the engine roars to life.

Behind the wheel, Elena chuckles a little and it definitely sounds stiff to Athena’s ears. “Not a chance,” Elena says, eyes steady on the road. “You’re my responsibility now. I’m not taking my eyes off of you.”

Athena watches as Nate turns from the window looking like he wants to say something to that, but he lets it go in favor of rolling his tongue over his lips. If the tension in the car and the chagrin on Nate’s face are anything to go by, then Athena guesses he made the right call.

Athena frowns. What could possibly have happened in the few minutes he and Elena were talking? You okay, she mouths to him, concerned. Nate stares at her for a moment and nods, but Athena can tell he’s lying. She knows better than to push it, though; it’s not the time or place.

The journey to the city seems to stretch to eternity in the strained silence. Every now and then, Elena braves a quick comment, but the topics don’t stray from the scenery and history. The closest she gets to something remotely personal is when she mentions her apartment’s address and invites them to stay if they want.

Elena parks the car on a hill close to her place, pointing out several landmarks they can use to move around and Athena is somewhat ashamed to say she tunes out for a moment. Laying her hands on a brick fence, her eyes get lost in the landscape of ancient buildings; the architecture and craftsmanship is simply astonishing. She idly wishes she could spend real time in the city, exploring and walking the irregular alleyways, but despite that being a pipe dream, a slow smile curves Athena’s lips at the details she gets to see now. Arched windows festooned in white, domed towers and clever, ornate brickwork leave her wishing she had some of Nate’s drawing skills to immortalize the view.

She turns around and the wistful smile peters out. Right…can’t forget about the tense atmosphere, she muses, eyes switching from Nate to Elena.

“If you’re trying to pick up Francis Drake’s trail,” Elena says pointedly, “we should head to the old quarter.”

Elena’s words clarify a thing or two. Of course she figured it out, Athena thinks and wonders why would Nate try to evade it in the first place. The job may well be a sore subject between them, she’s not sure, but even if it is, Nate’s got to know by now there’s no point in trying to pull the wool over her eyes. Elena has made a living of asking questions and getting answers, for chrissakes.

“Ah, so this is the new part?” Sully asks, willfully ignoring the thorny mood as he looks around.

“Well…” Elena clears her throat. “It’s all relative. The city was founded at least three thousand years ago.”

“Alright.” Nate nods. “Well, lead on.”

That seems to ease everyone. Having something to do, a common goal to reach, usually works wonders and this is no different. Athena notices how Elena’s frame relaxes if even a little. “There,” she says, pointing to the distance. “You see that tower up ahead? That’s where the old city starts. So, we need to make our way over there.

“I need you to be on your best behavior,” Elena keeps going as they start walking through the throngs of people and market stalls. She pauses and turns. “I’m serious, the police have patrols everywhere, and we don’t need to arouse any suspicions.”

“You got it,” Nate says, Athena and Sully quickly agreeing as well. 

***

Turns out Elena wasn’t bluffing about the patrols. After hitting a dead end, they have no choice but to cut through the rooftops. It’s slow going, but while they zigzag across terraces, Athena stops abruptly, wrapping a hand around Nate’s arm as she spots Talbot leisurely walking through the streets below, Charlie’s journal in hand.

Without thinking it twice, Nate vaults over a fence and starts giving chase, leaving a puzzled Elena, an annoyed Sully and a seething Athena behind.

“Damn it, Nate,” she bites out, because there’s no way Talbot is just waltzing around unescorted. There’s probably tens of Marlowe’s men lurking in the shadows—armed men—and Nate just took the bait. “I’m going after him,” she tells Sully and Elena. “Follow us from the rooftops.” And with that she jumps to the street.

***

She bumps into Nate as he’s making his escape from Talbot and his goons, Charlie’s notebook in hand, so at least this half-assed stunt he pulled wasn’t in vain. That doesn’t mean she isn’t pissed, though. No. She’s livid with his carelessness and for the life of her, she can’t understand how he can’t see he’ll end up dead if he gets captured. Katherine Marlowe not only doesn’t need them, she’s actively trying to remove them from the board.

Athena stews in silence, though, rushing through the streets right behind him until they meet Sully and Elena, who guides them into a building they can hide in for a few moments to catch their breath and regroup.

“Well, well, well,” Sully jokes as they walk into the circular room, noticing the well in the middle, light pouring from a skylight on the roof. Nate chuckles and explains the pun to Elena, but Athena can’t find within herself the will to even crack a smile. She leans against the wall and watches Nate as he leafs through Charlie’s notes, face full of excitement when he realizes they’ve stumbled right into the place they were after.

You’re not gonna stop, are you? Athena muses, eyes losing focus as she realizes she was right. This goes beyond the treasure. Her mind returns to Cartagena, to the first days they’d ever spent with Sully. While she had dealt with the experience by asking Sully to teach her how to shoot, Nate clung to the anger towards Marlowe, hiding it behind a facade of nonchalance, confident in that fake-it-till-you-make-it attitude. Fourteen-year-old Athena hadn’t questioned it, but now, as those vivid memories pop up, Athena sees the red flags, the warning bells she should have heard years ago—certainly before she put that picture into Nate’s hands.

Have you been nursing that anger since then? The answer is rather obvious in hindsight, Athena reckons, as Elena tells Sully where he can get them some guns. Athena pushes from the wall and follows Sully without saying a word, jumping at the opportunity of getting out of there, unable to restrain the thought that she should’ve known better. She can’t stay put, otherwise the guilt will consume her.

***

“Huh,” Nate says as they walk into the final chamber, noticing the carved brass structure in the middle of the room. “Looks like some kind of ornate brazier.”

Sully hands him his lighter and the oil in the lamp ignites immediately, illuminating the domed ceiling in an uncanny spectacle. The night sky they find themselves under leaves Athena breathless. “As above, so below…” She mutters. 

“Sully,” Nate calls, “this is some kind of celestial map.”

“That makes sense,” he replies, humming. “The Arabs used the stars to navigate the desert—just like sailors on the ocean.”

“That’s right.” Athena’s eyes remain on the twinkling lights, but she can hear Nate’s excitement all the same. “So, you could use these constellations to find the site of the lost city?”

“If I had a sextant, sure,” Sully says. “I didn’t do all that time in the Navy for nothing, y’know.”

“And here I thought you spent the whole time looking for that basket act…” Nate comments like he’s talking about the weather.

Despite the turmoil she’s in, the bawdy joke takes her so out of guard that an unintentional guffaw escapes Athena’s throat. She shakes her head, swallowing her laughter.

“The what?” Elena asks, looking between them and frowning.

“Ah,” Sully prevaricates, and Athena isn’t sure in this dim lighting, but she thinks Sully’s cheeks get darker. “Never mind.”

“Hey, you think you could remember this?” Nate asks, turning a bit more serious.

“Well, yeah,” he drawls, “but we oughta copy it down, dontcha think?”

“No.” Nate shakes his head. “I really don’t recommend that.”

Later, after the dust settles, Athena will come back to this moment, losing herself in the useless exercise of ‘what ifs’.

***

Elena tries to reason with Nate about Francis Drake’s motives to abandon his quest and hiding all traces of it, to no avail. Her logic treads on the same steps Athena walked when they were discussing plans in London, before they set off for France, and she listens to the conversation with the certainty it won’t make any difference. The argument won’t fly with Nate. It didn’t then, it probably won’t do so now.

“Listen,” Elena says, almost desperate, and Athena can tell how difficult it is for her to keep her cool in the face of Nate’s stubbornness. “You’ve won, okay? You’ve outsmarted her. You know where to find the city, and Marlowe doesn’t. Why can’t that be enough?”

Athena has known from the start Elena is a brave woman and her willingness to ask the difficult questions Athena herself fears is further confirmation of just how far she will go to protect Nate, even against himself. It's a vindication of sorts for Athena and it gives her a bit of peace of mind amongst the insane reality they’ve been living for the past week.

Fate, though, doesn’t give a damn about Athena’s fears—or anybody else’s, for that matter. Nate never gets the chance to answer the question because they’re ambushed, and once they fight their way out of the cistern, a dart finds his way to his neck.

“Run,” Nate breathes out, pulling the dart away, but it’s too late. Whatever they’re coated with is powerful and instantaneous. Athena watches his horrified expression shifting to confusion and then fear.

Athena hears Sully and Elena in the background, but all she can focus on is Nate as she slowly steps closer, hands up in what she hopes is a harmless gesture. “Nate? It’s okay, it’s not real,” she says softly, but her efforts are worthless. Nate shoves her away from him, hard, and Athena loses her footing. Thankfully, Sully manages to stop her momentum, but in those few seconds, Nate takes off running straight into the crowd.

“Go back to the apartment,” Athena says, resolute even when her heart is threatening to leap out of her chest. “I’ll follow him.”

“But what—” Elena protests, but Athena shakes her head, already moving towards the direction Nate took.

“Even if he gets caught, Marlowe won’t kill him right away.” She’ll want to watch him suffer first, she thinks but doesn’t say. “We’ve got time.”

“She’s right, Elena,” Sully says, laying a hand on her shoulder. He nods to Athena. “Go.”

How stupid of me to fear the answer to a question, she thinks as she frantically dodges people, chasing after Nate. There are far worse things to be afraid of.

***

Athena has felt overwhelmed many times throughout her life. She’s not a stranger to the all-encompassing dread settling in her gut, stone-like and toxic, freezing her blood and pushing her heart into a wild staccato. It’s also not a surprise many of those experiences have come as a result of Nate being in danger. And yet, for all her past experiences, the sight of Nate’s shoulders rising and falling with harsh breaths, the palm of his hand smacking his temple again and again as Talbot whispers in his ear, leaves Athena in a jumble of emotions she finds hard to brave. Keffiyeh wrapped around her head and sitting inside a rundown cafe, Athena has to sink her fingernails into the wooden counter in order to keep still and not blow her cover, consequences be damned.

The small, rational part of her mind warns she ought to remain where she is. It’s only herself versus dozens of them, so she needs to wait for the right moment, for the opening that might actually make a difference between life or death for Nate and herself. Athena listens and it’s one of the hardest things she’s ever done.

Katherine Marlowe sits opposite Nate and, from her vantage point, Athena can see the utter enjoyment she’s deriving from Nate’s suffering. Athena’s eyes fill with tears of rage and she runs her sleeve over her eyes, willing herself to calm down. She needs her wits— Nate needs her. Losing herself into her ire is a luxury she can’t afford right now. Minutes drag as Nate’s agitation slowly abates, giving way to confusion as lucidity returns to him, startling when he seems to recognize whom he’s sharing a table with, and despite the shit situation, Athena breathes a sigh of relief.

She’s too far away to catch every bit of the conversation, but by Nate’s grim face and Marlowe’s mocking, self-assured demeanor, Athena knows sooner rather than later Nate’s tether of self-control will snap.

When it does, it all happens so fast, Athena is eternally grateful she scoped the place as soon as she walked in and kept the location of the stairs in the back of her mind.

Nate literally flips the table and Marlowe’s goons grab the woman, whisking her away to safety, as Talbot escapes in a different direction. Nate immediately takes off after him and a man with a ridiculous cowboy hat chases them. The small square erupts into chaos. Police converge into the plaza as people scream and Athena, not losing a second, heads for the roof.

The stir they’re causing in the city is hard to ignore, which is good, given that she’s a few seconds behind them and she loses direct sight of them several times as she has to come up with alternative routes. But in her desperation to catch up, she mistimes a jump and misses the ledge she’s aiming for entirely. Athena doesn’t even have time to scream. She plummets to the ground and it’s only by sheer, dumb luck that she lands over a market stall, the tent somewhat breaking her fall.

“Shit,” she groans, winded by the blow and sore to her very last bone, but Athena barely has the chance to get to her feet before a police patrol spots her and shouts start ringing across the street. Stumbling, she runs away through the winding alleys until she loses her tail, but that also means she lost Nate’s trail. 

Thankfully, no one thinks twice about a girl in the corner of the street as she slides down the brick wall, giving in to the tears.

***

It takes effort and energy she doesn’t have to spare, but Athena manages to push away the self-recrimination and sense of failure enough that she can give Elena a coherent order of events. 

“You mentioned another man you hadn’t seen before, right?” Elena asks.

“Yeah,” she sighs, uncaring for the grime in her hands as she runs them over her face. “A local, probably. Big guy dressed in bright colors and with a cowboy hat, of all things. Looked like a mercenary.”

“A pirate, most likely,” Elena mutters, pacing back and forth in front of the couch. “There’s been reports of piracy at the docks for some time. A man who calls himself Rameses runs a ‘salvage company’,” she air-quotes with an eye roll. “He’s a real piece of work and fits that description.”

Athena gets on her feet. “Let’s go, then.”

“Wait,” Elena says, shaking her head. “The city is pretty much on lock down. After today’s mess, the docks will be heavily guarded, not to mention Rameses will have his own men watching.”

“So we sneak in,” Athena says with a shrug, needing to do something…anything.

“Athena, you’re going to get caught,” Elena stresses. “And then what? How are you going to help them?”

That takes the wind from her sails. Shoulders dropping, Athena returns to the couch and sinks her face into her hands, knowing Elena’s right. That doesn’t stop the guilt or her mind going places she’d rather avoid.  “What about Sully?” 

Elena sighs. “One of my contacts said a convoy left the city just before dusk,” she says, sitting on the coffee table. “They most likely took him with them, given he had Ubar’s location.”

“Fuck,” Athena mutters. She’s confident Sully understands once he gives that information away, Marlowe will get rid of him, but given the raging bitch has access to unconventional interrogation methods, she’s not sure how long the status quo will last. 

“The silver lining is that they left in a hurry,” Elena adds. “They’ll probably need supplies. I’ll meet with my contact in the morning and see what I can dig up.”

***

The night is long and full of dark thoughts and once Elena leaves in the early morning, Athena stays behind in case either Nate or Sully show up. It’s the smart thing to do and she can’t take another second of it. 

Athena sets off towards the harbor and it takes her nearly two hours just to get there, given the amount of police reinforcements she comes across with. The closest she gets to her destination is a roof about a hundred yards from the port, where she stands for nearly an hour, watching as a storm rages just off the shore drawing cold, damp air from the sea. 

During the years her father was alive, Athena wasn’t raised under any religion, for he was an agnostic keen on letting his only daughter make up her own mind about deities. Some of the foster homes she paraded through the following years worshiped, some didn’t, but all Athena took from the foster system were shit memories and a confirmation that her father had the right of things when it came to God's existence.

Athena wouldn’t even know where to start if she wanted to pray. But as she turns to trek back to the apartment, she asks for Nate’s and Sully’s safety. Whether someone’s listening, she doesn’t know. And yet, she tries.

She takes a shower and eats just for the sake of having something to do other than letting her mind run away from her. She’s in the midst of cleaning her gun when the front door swings open. Startled and hand already reaching for the knife in her boot, Athena’s eyes widen as she sees him stumble with his own feet, leaning heavily against the doorframe.

Athena’s on her feet in an instant and rushes to him, catching him just before he collapses on the floor. “Nate,” she whispers, chest burning with sheer relief as she helps him to the couch. Weak as he is, he falls rather than sitting down and he drags her along. One of knees collides with the thin carpet hard, but she can’t bring herself to care. Kneeling between his legs, her eyes roam his face and body, looking for wounds and injuries, but other than bruises and some small cuts, he seems fine. He’s exhausted and probably dehydrated, but otherwise whole, and Athena doesn’t even try to dry her tears.

Nate exhales a long breath, hand sinking in her loose hair and leans forward, connecting his forehead with hers. “You okay?” His voice sounds hoarse and she suspects the cause isn’t merely a dry throat. 

“Am I okay?” She huffs out a disbelieving laugh and leans back, afraid to take her eyes off of him just yet. Her fingers brush his neck, where blueish imprints marr his skin, telltale that her suspicions aren’t off the mark. What did they do to you, she can’t help wondering as his eyes close with the touch. “I’m not the one who’s been missing for a day and a half, Nate.”

“They told me they had you…they—” His features tighten. “I thought—”

“Hey, I’m fine.” Athena smiles, cupping his cheek as he leans into her hand. “I promise.” 

He seems to relax at that and his stomach grumbles, so Athena pushes herself away from him, meaning to head for the kitchen. As soon as she’s on her feet, though, he grabs her hand, stopping her. She looks down, finding his blue eyes awaiting her, stubborn and defiant and a little bit capricious as he pulls her back, closer to him. Nate wraps an arm around her waist and leans his forehead against her stomach, no hesitation, and despite the intimacy of the contact, Athena can’t find within herself the strength to deny him. She combs her fingers through his hair, hoping the contact will soothe him, and to be honest, she needs it as much as he does.

However, his stomach protests again. And again.

“I’ll get you something to eat,” she says and for a moment, she thinks he won’t let go, but then she feels him nod.

“Sully?” He asks as she’s reheating some food.

She walks back to the living room with a large glass of water that he drinks in one go. “They have him,” Athena finally says as the microwave chirps in the kitchen.

Nate’s eyes darken. “Then we should go—”

She shakes her head and lays a hand on his shoulder before he can attempt to stand. “They’re a day ahead of us, we’ll never catch up. But maybe there’s an alternative,” she says as she picks up the food and refills the glass. “Elena thinks they’ll probably need supplies, given they took off in a rush. We can sneak into that convoy. She’ll have more details when she comes back.”

“She okay?” Nate asks between mouthfuls.

Athena nods. “She’s fine. Worried about you. I should text her,” she comments as she grabs her phone and types a detailed message, “let her know you’re here and in one piece.”

She puts her phone down, finding Nate leaning back on the couch with his head in the most awkward position possible.

“Go to bed, Nate,” she urges in a soft voice. “We’ve got time.”

A hum is all she gets in response while Nate stretches on the couch, laying his head over her lap, and she chuckles a little. The restless night she spent is getting to her; she can’t imagine how tired he must be.

“Athena…” He mumbles, hand searching for hers and holding tight once he finds it.

“What?” She whispers.

He mumbles something else she doesn’t quite catch, but she doesn’t ask again. His dark lashes rest over his cheekbones, his breaths even out as the setting sun fills the room in golden light and the steady beat of his heart under Athena’s hands lulls her to sleep.

***

Confusion awaits her as she opens her eyes. Blinking several times, she has trouble realizing what's going on; the room is dark and unrecognizable, she can’t pinpoint what caused her to jolt into awakening. But as her sight focuses on the woman standing a few feet from her, her mind connects the dots.

“Elena,” she mutters, mouth full of cotton and neck stiff. She tries to rub her eyes but her hand is trapped and her gaze shifts down in curiosity.

Nate slumbers peacefully, head on her lap and though their hands have shifted from his chest, their fingers remain intertwined. Her wits sharpen all at once, the implication of the situation running down her spine in a wave of self-consciousness, and she has to restrain herself from jumping upright, like a guilty child caught stealing cookies in the middle of the night. What a picture we must make, she thinks with reddening cheeks, slowly extricating herself from under Nate’s weight, careful not to awaken him.

Without saying a word, she heads for the kitchen, gathering her bravery to face Elena. Logically, she knows that it can’t be that terrible, nothing happened. In fact, it’s far from the first time she and Nate have shared a bed, a couch or some sort of sleeping arrangement. If Nate decided to crash by her side, Athena wouldn’t bat an eye; she probably wouldn’t even wake up— that is how used she is to this type of closeness. And yet…

Regardless of breaks and impasses, Elena and Nate are married, and the last thing she wants is to get in the middle of that relationship. She’s been careful, painstakingly so, of not meddling. It’s been an exhausting back and forth of over analyzing and endless thinking, of wondering if this long look or that touch on his arm could be misconstrued, of keeping him at arm’s length out of respect for his happiness and the woman he chose. And as Athena takes a seat at the small kitchen table, she realizes how unbearably tired of this constant hyper awareness she is. She has trouble recognizing herself in the reflection of this prudent, mindful creature she has become. This is not who I am. The thought runs rampant through her head; a manifest truth as basic as breathing is. She thought it would be a small price to pay to keep Nate in her life, but Athena’s mind goes to the future, to the life Nate will build with Elena and she can’t picture herself standing there and watching, a silent witness in the sidelines wishing she could play a lead role.

The quiet sound of the cup of tea Elena sets before her pulls Athena out of her thoughts and as she looks at Elena, Athena sinks in the selfish relief of finding no anger in her features. She doesn’t think she could deal with that at the moment.

And as Elena gets right to business, sharing everything she found out, Athena is thankful she has something else to focus on.

“They’ll send supplies, only not by land, but by plane.” Elena unfolds a map of the city. “My contact at the airfield says the plane sets off at seven AM. Here,” Elena says, pointing to the location.

Athena nods, mind canvassing details she should take into account. It won’t be easy to pull off, but there’s no alternative if they want Sully back. She checks her watch, realizing dawn isn’t far away and Elena seems to share that thought. 

“We should start getting ready,” she says, standing.

But as much as Athena’s head is invested in the logistics of rescuing Sully, her eyes go to Nate’s sleeping form, and it’s her heart that makes the decision. She stops Elena with a soft touch on her arm, getting an inquisitive look from her. “Stay with him,” Athena says, shaking her head when Elena wants to protest. “He’s in no condition to mount a rescue.” She swallows, knowing the stakes, knowing maybe this is the last time she’ll get to see him. “Stay with him.” 

Crouching in front of her bag, Athena rifles through her things and as she moves a shirt aside, the sound of crinkling paper breaks the quiet in the room. Frowning, she slowly fishes the slightly wrinkled sheet and unfolds it, finding the drawing of a strong, male hand offering a pomegranate to a delicate, female one. You’ll be so pissed with me when you wake up, she thinks, eyes straying back to Nate’s sleeping form. Her lips curve in a small, fond smile and she picks up her journal, stashing the sketch between the pages, careful not to crease it any more than it already is. 

Holster secured around her hips and leg, Athena grabs every full clip she has along with her compass. She can feel Elena’s watchful eyes following every single one of her movements in silence, but she takes her time despite the scrutiny, double-checking she has all she needs. “Thank you, Elena,” she says, grabbing the map and heading for the door with light steps.

As she’s about to turn the knob, Elena’s uncharacteristically soft voice freezes her in her tracks. “You’re in love with him, aren’t you?” Stunned and a bit short of breath, Athena turns slowly. Elena may have phrased it as a question, but Athena doesn’t think there’s much room for doubt in the woman’s mind. By her expression, Elena is quite clear on the right answer.

Athena smiles a little, eyes going to Nate again. She watches how his chest rises and falls with deep, calm breaths, and she sees the traces of the young boy she first met in Chicago a lifetime ago that are so hard to find in the daylight. She shrugs in the end. “Does it matter?” She forces her gaze back to Elena. “He’s in love with you.”

The door closes with a soft click behind her and Athena steps into the night.

***

From her cocoon of crates and tarps, Athena strains her ears when she thinks she hears a familiar voice. It can’t be…he wouldn’t have had time to—

“Let’s talk about this!”

And yes, that’s definitely Nathan Drake. 

She stands from her hiding place as the cargo door opens with a metallic whirr, filling the cargo bay with hot, dry wind. The desert’s bright glare hurts her eyes and next thing she knows, a row of crates flies off, nearly crushing her. Athena jumps back, gripping a nearby strap as the plane shakes and her stomach drops to her feet when her eyes zero on Nate, holding for dear life to the string of cargo hanging hundreds of feet in the air above the sands of the Rub’ al Khali. She screams his name out of sheer desperation, but of course he doesn’t hear her, she can barely hear herself with the wind lashing against her ears. 

Then come the shouts and the bullets, when the crew realizes something’s wrong and she’s forced to abandon any attempt to help him as they pin her down. Athena runs out of ammo faster than she’d like; there’s so many of them that she can barely hold them down. “Fuck,” she grunts, but there’s not time to dwell on frustrations, because one of them charges straight at her. The man manages to get her in a chokehold, but Athena uses her legs and a crate as leverage, pushing back. They land on the floor hard and the man loosens his hold. In the midst of a coughing fit, Athena jumps to her feet but as she’s trying to move away, the man wraps a hand around her ankle, sending her to the floor again. “Let go!” She bites out, kicking once, twice, thrice…until the man sags in his position, finally unconscious. 

Grabbing his gun and ammo, Athena rushes towards the open cargo bay. There’s a moment of panic as she sees the bindings holding the crates giving way and the cargo flying off like a stringless kite. Nate… she thinks, heart in her throat, but then, a shout comes from behind a fuel tank.

“Athena!”

Her heartbeat eases down as he makes his way to her, a daredevil grin on his face that makes her blood boil in more than one way. “What the hell are you doing here?!”

“Oh, y’know,” he drawls as he unloads an entire clip on Marlowe’s henchmen, “I never turn down a free flight.”

They hunker down to reload and she sighs, half mad with herself for finding his bravado funny in a moment like this, but she doesn’t get the chance to reply. An explosion has the plane quaking in the air and they share a grave look as they lose altitude, fast.

Taking a peek around their cover, they get a glimpse of the massive hole in the fuselage as screaming men get sucked out by the currents. “Time to go,” Athena breathes out.

Wide eyed, Nate squeaks out a ‘yep’, returning the fire the surviving goons keep shooting. Athena’s mind scrambles for a way out. The parachute she stole before sneaking onto the plane is long gone, and either way, it wouldn’t have worked for both of them. We need something bigger, she thinks, as the plane violently banks to the right.

“Oh, crap!” Nate yelps as they skid over the floor, landing roughly against the structural bars of the fuselage.

Athena groans. “Ow, that hurt…” She opens her eyes, the pit of her stomach churning with the acceleration of the nosedive, but she grins at the sight of the pull cord attached to a crate. That’ll do. “Nate, help me with this!” 

“What?” He says, face puzzled as she takes her knife and starts cutting the nylon straps. He must understand what she’s aiming at, though, because he rushes to crank one of the fastenings with zeal.

Another explosion rocks the plane and the sudden movement dislodges the crate, but before it can run away from them, Athena grabs Nate from his holster, pulling him along with her. “Hold on, Nate!”

And just like that, they’re in free fall. She can barely keep her eyes open, the wind is ruthless and laden in sand; it feels like a thousand knives against her skin. As the world whirls around her, Athena struggles with her grip as she tries to find the damn pull. If they can’t deploy the chute, they’re done for, but through the slits of her narrowed eyes, she catches a glimpse of Nate grasping and tugging the elusive cord. The whooshing sound of the parachute opening is the sweetest noise she’s heard in a while, even if she could do without the strain tugging on her shoulders.

The landing is a bit rough; Athena ends up rolling away on the blazing hot sand after letting go, but the true dread sets in as she stands and makes a complete turn on her feet. The desert stretches in all directions, as far as the eye can see. Endless, golden sand dunes and not a single landmark to lean on; a sight that begs the question if this is how they bite it.

She turns to Nate as he scans their surroundings, hand shielding his eyes from the sun’s glare until it drops, limp, by his side.

“We should check the wreckage,” he says. “See if there’s anything we can use.”

Athena nods and they start their trek through the Rub’ al Khali.

***

Athena dreams. 

The cool sand sinks under her feet as she walks by the surf. Ahead of her, a man plays with a boy on the beach, silhouetted by the setting sun. Her ears catch their laughter—a young, innocent giggle and a deep, rumbling chuckle—and she smiles, the sound filling her with warmth and boundless joy. Picking up her pace, she feels a kick from within and her hand drops over the exact spot on her protruding stomach, hoping to feel it again. She can’t help but gasp when she does—it’s the first time she’ll be able to share this with him. She knows he’s been waiting months for this. 

The man turns to her and as soon as she’s by his side, she clutches his hand, pressing it against their dancing child and Athena gets to see the awe and adoration in his features when the kicks begin anew.

“Here,” the boy with wild curls and striking blue eyes says, stretching his little arm and offering her his treasure: a pretty shell he collected in his adventures.

Smiling, Athena takes the gift and watches the boy as he skips away, happy to run free, and hears the man calling her. But when she turns, the man seems frozen in his stance, still smiling, still touching her stomach, and yet, when the wind carries her name, his lips don’t move. Athena stares. All sense of peacefulness and belonging vanish as she stares at him, at those familiar, blue eyes framed by dark, long lashes with unbearable sadness, for her oneiric imaginings will never come close to the intricacies of the real person.

Athena…

She opens her eyes, the endless canopy of stars greeting her in their glimmering silence. She hears it again, pained and desperate, and she turns, abandoning the last wisps of an idyllic world to lay a hand over his cold cheeks.

“Athena,” Nate mumbles in his sleep.

“Nate,” she whispers, noticing his shivers. She scoots closer to him, hoping to share some of her warmth—not that there’s much of that, she’s freezing as well. Frowning, Nate mutters unintelligible words and she tries again. “Nate, it’s just a dream.”

He blinks several times, like his eyes can’t quite understand the whos, whys and wheres of the situation. She smiles a little when his gaze lands on hers, unsure if the crescent moon will be enough light for him to see it, but he doesn’t comment. He says nothing at all. Instead, he wraps his arms around her, pulling them as close as they can get and Athena burrows her face in his chest, hands clutching his shirt.

“It was just a dream.”

***

Salim is their saving grace—quite literally.

After they enjoy the first sips of water to pass their lips in a couple of days, Marlowe’s men advance on them in relentless waves, until Salim and his men come charging, causing enough disruption they manage to turn the tide.

Athena watches the women usher the children inside their homes as they ride into the village and the horses don’t slow down until they’re in the outskirts of the settlement. They’re provided with food, water and some shelter from the scorching sun, but they leave them be for most of the afternoon with only a couple of armed guards as sentries.

Whether out of exhaustion or something else, Athena and Nate keep quiet until the last rays of the sun burn bright orange on the surrounding hills. That’s when Salim returns and introduces himself, sitting in front of them after building a fire.

“You are far from home, Americans,” Salim states, eyes shifting between them. “You do not belong out here. Any of you.”

“You spared us, though,” Nate says. “Why not just kill us along with the others?”

The man gives them a long look. “That would have been impolite. You were in distress. Even an enemy must be fed and sheltered,” he explains, matter of fact. “Are you enemies of mine, Americans?”

“Nathan.” Athena says, voice a bit hoarse from disuse. When Salim’s features cloud with confusion, she clarifies. “This is Nathan. I’m Athena. Thank you for your help.”

The man acknowledges her with a nod. “I am sheikh of this tribe,” Salim says, offering them both a cup of tea. “The lives of the people here are my responsibility, which is why I must ask, what are you looking for?”

“Well, I don’t mean to be forward, Salim, but we need a horse,” Nate says slowly. “We don’t have anything to offer in return—”

But Salim interrupts with a curious look on his face. “You plan to attack the English caravan alone?”

The leap surprises Athena. “You know about them.”

Salim nods. “My scouts have been tracking them for two days,” he offers before asking again. “Why are you here? Why do the English cross the Rub’ al Khali?”

“They’re looking for the lost city of Ubar,” Nate says.

“Iram of the Pillars…” Salim sighs.

“They’ve taken our friend hostage,” Athena adds. “He’s the only one who knows the way. Once they find Iram, he’ll be worthless to them.”

“If they find Iram, we are all dead.” It’s not just an opinion, Athena realizes by the vehemence in Salim’s voice. “Three thousand years ago, King Solomon commanded the power of the Djinn. Demons, born of smokeless fire. Until they rebelled. He imprisoned them in a vessel of brass, and cast it into the depths of the city. Iram became a place of evil, cursed by the tormented spirits of the Djinn. The English must not reach the city,” he stresses and shakes his head. “If they unleash the power of the Djinn…”

Nate sighs, running a hand over his eyes. “We don’t have much time, do we?”

“No,” Salim agrees, “but they have the greater numbers. We cannot attack them in the open.” The man stands and points to a roll of blankets one of the guards left nearby. “Tonight, rest. Tomorrow they enter the canyons—we shall take them there. We ride at dawn.” And with a final nod, he’s off.

The quiet returns to fill the space between them. She’s not sure where Nate’s silence comes from, but for her part, Athena’s head is far too crowded with thoughts to make any attempt at lighthearted conversation. They roll the blankets over a makeshift pallet on the ground, the sounds of the desert as their only companion.

Athena takes off her boots, unstraps her empty holster and lays on her side, her back to Nate. Her eyelids drop in exhaustion, but before she’s fully asleep, she hears Nate shift behind her. She stays as still as possible as his arm curls around her waist, hand resting on her stomach, but the anguished tinge in his voice is what makes her react.

“We’ll find him.”

Athena doesn’t know if the reassurance is meant for her or for himself, but she can’t help but lay a hand over his, intertwining their fingers. “I know we will,” she says, truly confident in that, because there’s no room for anything else.

And once that is all said and done, Athena will drag Nate to have a well overdue conversation, not only because she’s weary of bottling up her feelings and dealing with these mixed signals in the midst of uncertainty, but because Nate deserves her honesty.

***

They attack the convoy just as Salim planned and they manage to get Sully, but they lose their guide in an immense and blinding dust storm. They shuffle forward with no real direction, randomly finding some of Marlowe’s men, but then, they nearly collide with the most extravagant and imposing set of doors Athena has ever seen. Several stories high, she can barely see the top in the sandy wind.

“Holy shit…” Sully breathes as they make it inside a gargantuan ante-chamber.

Athena chuckles in disbelief. “So it does exist.”

“It’s amazing,” Nate says, looking around.

But the true wonder awaits them beyond the second gate. As the doors part to let them through, Athena’s mouth hangs open with the sight. Palaces and plazas, what she imagines would be private residences and smaller buildings where smiths or bakers would work…all decked out in a splendor she hasn’t witnessed before. Every rooftop seems to be covered with copper, bronze or gold shingles. The stone masonry alone is fantastic. The kings of old must’ve commissioned the best craftsmen of the time to build this out of the sand, she thinks. The city stretches out for miles and just beyond its limits, the dust cloud still rages. She descends the sweeping stairs guarded by massive statues in a dream-like state. Someone better pinch me. Athena leans on the balustrade, shaking her head, amused by her own awe.

“Athena Ritchie, Victor Sullivan,” Nate says with a rakish, wide grin, “welcome to Ubar.”

That tears a deighted laugh from Athena and they’re off, descending the stairs towards a set of courtyards with lavish fountains which, against all odds, still have running water.

“Incredible,” Sully comments, washing his face.

“This is how the city could thrive all the way out here,” Nate says in amazement. “The whole place must be fed by an underground spring.” He leans over the fountain, cupping his hands and taking a sip. “It’s clean,” he says, drinking more water. But he stops abruptly, the expression on his face shifting from wonderment to a puzzled frown as he walks to a balcony and gazes at the city below. 

Athena follows him, trying to determine what caught his attention. “Nate—”

He turns with a faraway gaze and mutters a pained ‘no’, falling to the ground on his knees. “No, please…Sully.”

There’s so much heartbreak in his voice that she has trouble moving, so her eyes go to a bewildered Sully, who walks to his side and lays a hand on his shoulder. “Kid, you okay?”

But Nate doesn’t seem to feel the touch nor hear their voices, consumed by a reality they’re not part of. Athena’s eyes go to the fountain. Could it be—

She doesn’t have time to form the full thought, because when Nate gets to his feet, face twisted in rage and teeth bared, he points his gun at her and fires.

The hit sends her reeling back into a column and her legs give out under her as her shoulder explodes with pain. Her right hand immediately goes to the wound to staunch the blood flow and she whimpers, tendrils of agony spreading throughout her chest.

“The hell are ya doin’, Nate?!” Sully roars and all Athena can do is watch as Nate jumps from the balcony down to the next level and disappears from sight. “Nate!” 

Athena hears Sully yell again, but then, he’s by her side, gingerly holding her. “Lemme see, my girl,” he coos in a soft voice Athena barely hears through the thundering heartbeat in her ears. “It went though, darlin’.”

She takes a deep breath and it hurts like a motherfucker, but she takes another and another, trying to dispel the cobwebs of shock from her consciousness. “Good,” she grits through her gnashing teeth. 

“C’mon,” Sully says, wrapping an arm around her waist, “up you go.”

With Sully’s help, Athena makes it to the edge of the fountain and Sully is about to soak a handkerchief in the water when Athena stops him. “No.” She shakes her head. “It’s the water, Sully,” Athena breathes out. “Water’s tainted.”

Sully just nods at that. “You have a first aid kit or somethin’?”

“Gauze,” she says, fatigue spreading through her limbs, pointing to the leather pouch attached to her belt. “Here.”

Sully patches her up as best he can with what they have in hand. Athena unwraps her keffiyeh from her neck, offering it to Sully to tie the bandages and she can’t help a strangled whine as he secures it tight. 

“Alright,” Sully says, washing his bloody hands, “whaddaya say we head out?”

She gives him a tired smile, but shakes her head. “Go after him,” she tells him and seeing his reluctance, Athena clasps her hand around his arm for reassurance. “I’ll wait here.” Chest heaving, Athena leans her good arm on her knee, blinking the dizziness away as she hopes the adrenaline rush will be enough until Sully returns and they can leave this place.

***

The rumbling earth jolts her out of her blood loss induced stupor. Athena thinks she’s hallucinating at first, but a glance at the center of the city has those conjectures vanishing into thin air, for dense clouds of dust and smoke billow from the bowels of Ubar as entire buildings begin caving in.

Time to go, I guess, she muses with a sigh, eyeing in doubt the long flight of stairs she has to clear to reach the main gates. You can do this, she tells herself and although it takes her a couple of tries and she feels as steady as a newborn foal, she manages to get to her feet. Despite leaning on the balustrade, each step feels like climbing a mountain and after a fall in the midst of another earthquake, Athena knows her wound tore open with the warmth running down her arm.

“Well, shit…” She mumbles, looking at what used to be her off white keffiyeh soaked in red. “C’mon, Athena, get up.” The only benefit of it all is that the pulsing ache sharpens to a point not even her addled brain can ignore. It wakes her up and she pushes herself back to her feet as gunshots ring over the noise of crumbling rocks. 

She’s reaching the final landing when she hears her name and before she turns fully, Nate is already hooking her good arm around his neck, helping her run away from the destruction. She manages a last look back and with a strange sadness, she watches as the Rub’ al Khali engulfs the once proud city.

“It’s no good,” Sully yells, still running, “we can’t make it!”

Athena feels Nate’s grip tightening around her waist and she pushes herself to move quicker. Just a little further…almost there, she convinces herself, thinking she hears horse hooves.

That proves to be real, for Nate calls Salim’s name and the next thing she knows, she’s atop of a horse, nodding and humming as Nate urges her to hold tight. 

How much time passes before they stop…Athena has no idea. She feels like she’s underwater; the voices sound tinny, distant as she leans heavily against Nate’s back, pins and needles prickling under the skin. 

Her eyes catch a glimpse of something bright. Coins? Why is Sully playing with coins? 

Nate’s chest rumbles when he speaks. 

And then she’s on her back, staring straight into clear blue skies. 

Nate’s face appears in her field of vision. He’s saying…something. She wants to ask, but her mouth doesn’t seem to work right now. 

I’ll shut my eyes for a minute…just a minute.

***

When Athena wakes up for the first time it’s a halfway sort of thing. She’s aware of conversations around her, but comprehension remains beyond her. There are dull aches in her body, but she can’t pinpoint them. Opening her eyes is out of the question. The last thing she feels before going under is something cool down her throat.

The next time it happens, understanding what the voices say is a little easier. She can put names and faces to at least two of those voices, but that’s the extent of her abilities.

“...we were lying back on those stairs, remember?” He chuckles. Warmth envelopes her hand with a soft touch. “You were telling me about Zeus whoring his way through Mount Olympus. Next thing we know, a bright flash goes off…” His voice trails off. Don’t stop, she wants to say, but she finds that she can’t. But as if their minds were connected, Nate takes a deep breath and keeps going. “Sam never gave me that picture. I wonder what happened to it.”

I have it, she thinks. It’s at the apartment with the rest of our photos. I’ll show it to you when we get back.

The third time, Sully’s with her. It’s quiet, but she recognizes his scent. Tobacco, those eucalyptus candies he likes so much and an old cologne she can’t remember the name of. 

Athena opens her eyes and regrets it instantly; the light is too bright. She tries to move and that proves to be a mistake, too. Her shoulder screams bloody murder against her ideas. Right…gunshot, she thinks, groaning.

“Athena?” Sully’s voice comes with a tinge of hopefulness.

“Water,” she says—or rather whispers—surprised with how dim her voice sounds.

A cup is pressed to her lips and she sips eagerly, mindless of the drops her lips fail to catch. She sighs back into the pillow and before she can say thanks, she falls asleep.

The first time she awakes properly, she’s on her own. She blinks several times and her eyelids feel heavy, swollen. She finds she’s in a tent, the flap of the opening softly moving in the early morning breeze. 

Her last memories rush back. The plane, the walk through the desert, Salim’s village. Ubar…the gunshot. 

Athena sighs and rolls to her good side before trying to sit up. At least I have some practice with this, she thinks as she puts her boots on slowly and carefully, remembering those days after Shambhala. Before even trying to get on her feet, she takes a peek at the wound. It looks clean, as far as she can tell. There’s extensive bruising and discoloration, but the neat row of stitches doesn’t appear to be swollen. She readjusts her bandages with a sigh of relief, ready to face the arduous task of standing up and after some muttered curses, she manages.

She walks on unsteady steps after gulping a glass of water, needing to move and breathe some fresh air. The morning is cool and the sun is barely starting to graze the top of the hills, but she remains standing despite the growing fatigue and watches as the village slowly awakes.

That’s how Nate finds her: swaying a bit on her feet, but with a small smile on her face as she watches the sunrise.

He seems distracted at first, walking towards her tent as he looks down, but as his gaze shifts upwards, Athena sees the surprise and relief as his lips part. He reaches her and wordlessly wraps her in a tight hug, mindful of her aching shoulder, her good side pressed fully against his chest. She feels his breath in her hair and she curls her working arm around his waist, reveling in the contact.

“I’m sorry,” he says in a broken whisper and her arm tightens, hand pressing between his shoulder blades.

“Don’t be.” Athena shakes her head, looking up without moving away from him. “It wasn’t your fault.”

Nate’s features twist into self-deprecation. “I shot you,” he remarks, like she needs the reminder.

Athena rolls her eyes. “I know, I was there,” she says, dry, “but you didn’t know you were shooting at me.” Her lips twitch. “If you did and you wanted the glory all for yourself, you could’ve just told me to stay put.”

He huffs in annoyance but his face relaxes a little. “God, you have the shittiest sense of humor in the world.”

Athena isn’t fooled, though. She can tell he’s amused and she grins, pinching his side. “You laugh at my jokes often enough, it can’t be that bad.”

He looks down at her for a long moment, eyes roaming her face. It reminds her of the intense stares he gave her at the apartment, before this whole adventure began. She lowers her eyes to his neck, frowning when she sees it bare. “Your ring is gone.”

Nate shrugs. “Doesn’t matter,” he says, sounding sure. “I can always get myself a new one.” She wants to ask about that, but her stomach growls and Nate snickers. “How about some breakfast, huh?”

***

They don’t exactly rush their way back to Yemen, but once Athena awakes, the plans for their return are pretty much sorted.

“Marlowe’s crew left behind more than a few things,” Sully explains the evening before they leave, “including a satellite phone.”

And Elena had organized everything else, she is told. 

Athena nods in all the right places, only part of her attention focused on Sully’s words. Most of her mind goes back to those thoughts about belated conversations and she wonders yet again if it’s the right thing to do. Yes, she firmly tells herself before she descends into an overthinking spiral. She’s going to lay all the cards on the table.

***

Four days later, Athena carries her backpack on her good shoulder as they cross the tarmac towards Sully’s plane, more than ready to head home. She walks ahead under the midday sun, almost thrumming with the anticipation she’s been building in her head about the chat she wants to have with Nate. She’s going to keep it simple and to the point, and even if her feelings are unrequited…well, at least it’ll be out of her chest and maybe she can move on.

As she reaches the plane, Athena turns, finding Sully and Nate deep in conversation. She can’t hear what they’re saying but she can see just fine as Sully fishes something out of his pocket and offers it to Nate. It gleams in the sunlight in all its gilded glory as Nate picks it up with a stunned look on his face. In the distance, Elena’s blond hair catches the light, similar as the wedding band Nate is still staring at does, as she walks in their direction with resolute steps.

That’s all Athena wants to watch, it’s all Athena needs to see. There’s my answer. Breathing stops being something her body knows how to do on its own and becomes a conscious, difficult exercise. I’d take that gunshot again over this. As dramatic as that sounds, she finds herself agreeing, especially from a logical point of view. The pain in the body is finite and manageable. Endurable. But this heartache…she doesn’t know what to do with it, how to remedy it, and she’s sick to death of feeling it. 

“Ready to go?” Sully asks, startling Athena.

She composes herself as best she can, and frankly, she can’t bring herself to care whether Sully notices something’s off or not. Athena nods. “More than.” 

***

Athena drops her bag by the door and goes to the kitchen, swallowing one of those painkillers she detests with a few mouthfuls of water. She crosses the apartment straight to the bedroom and gets into bed. All she wants is to sleep. 

In the morning, she notices the little things she ignored last night. The stale air in the apartment, the fact she climbed between the sheets with disgustingly dirty clothes, how famished she is…

The list goes on and on. Some are fixable issues; others, not so much. And once she’s done with the things she can change by opening windows or taking a shower or doing a load of laundry and going out for breakfast, she’s left with the glaring and prickly reality of being unwanted. 

Athena stands in the middle of the living room, turning slowly on her feet, appraising the four walls and furniture surrounding her with a critical eye and maybe, a little bit of anger. Good, bad, ugly and wonderful; this apartment has seen them go through everything and anything. Every nook and cranny relates to a memory, to a collection of happenings that involve Nate’s face and voice and scent. I can’t stay here. She knows it’s true as soon as she thinks it.

With that vague sense of direction, Athena grabs her wallet and keys. 

She’s going to need boxes.