Chapter Text
The last few days of Sam’s visit fly by in a breeze of sugary snacks and movies of questionable quality. And as much as he would never admit it, he’s actually going to miss the simple domesticity he’s been living in. He’s been thinking about it a lot; all of his life, Sam has been running. Running from his father, from the nuns, from the cops, even from his fellow inmates in Panama. He’s lived his entire life without sticking in the same place for longer than he had to, which is part of what made his thirteen-year sentence so damn hard. But this easy life, with a home and a wife and hot meals and bubble baths… God, he could get used to this.
“You know,” he says to her on their last night, while she curls her legs up next to him on the sofa and he sips a beer, “I thought this was gonna be awful.”
Elena huffs out a laugh. “Me too.”
“Yeah?”
“Yeah.” She’s quiet for a second, and then stretches and hauls herself into a seated position, meeting his eyes. “Last year, I was so angry with you, I didn’t want to have anything to do with you. Really. After what you put us through – put him through – I was happy just to let you go back to where you came from. But I can’t put all the blame on you, can I?” Sam shifts in his seat, uncomfortable, but Elena doesn’t give him enough time to weigh in on his guilt. “Besides, you’re family, and I thought it was time we both started acting like it.”
“I was real piece of shit.” It’s all he can think of to say, but it doesn’t cover even a little of the anguish that tears into him when he looks back on his own actions.
“You were. But that’s not who you are.” He looks at her then, surprised and pleased and all too confused at how easily Elena can read him. “You made some really stupid decisions, I’m not excusing that. It’s not all on you, though. I mean, don’t get me wrong, it’s mostly on you. But I’m mad at myself about how I handled the whole thing too. I should never have left you guys in King’s Bay. From what you and Sully told me, it made him reckless, and when Nate’s reckless, he’s an idiot.”
“You had every right to be pissed, are you kidd-”
“Let me finish, Sam, please?” He backs down, though he wants to throw her unwarranted self-blame out of the room as fast as he can. “I made a vow when I married your brother. For better or worse; I’m sure you’re familiar with the whole thing. But I should’ve stayed, and dealt with it afterwards. You could have used someone else, as back-up or whatever, I don’t know.”
“No. Jesus, don’t be- Are you serious?” Her guilt over nothing throws him for a loop. Sam knows it’s his fault; the whole mess was his fault. All him. No one else. Not Nathan. Not Victor. And certainly not Elena, of all people. “It is on me, ‘Lena. I lied to him. And not just to him, to Victor. And to you. You can’t blame yourself for being angry at the stupid shit I pulled, alright? I’m the asshole, and you and Nathan are both far better family than I deserve.”
Elena is quiet for a moment, running a thoughtful hand over her slightly-swollen belly as she thinks. Then, against all odds, a burst of laughter escapes her and she shakes her head as Sam looks over, back to being confused as all hell.
“Just think,” she giggles, “if Nate had any idea how to use Google, we’d have barely had a problem. One search for Hector Alcázar, and he wouldn’t have even left the city.” When she looks at him, there’s nothing but amusement in her eyes. “I mean, I’d still want to know why you were lying about a dead drug dealer, but all in all, you’d have been invited to stay a lot sooner.”
Sam grins, despite the unease in his chest. “If there’s one thing I can rely on, it’s that Nate the goddamn Great can’t use a computer to save his life.”
“‘Goddamn?’ You’re starting to sound like Sully.”
“I hope not. Put me out of my misery, please.”
When she goes to bed, a few minutes later, the ghost of a smile still lingers on her face. In the dim light of the TV, Sam swears there’s something else behind it, but it’s too dark to really tell.
“Hey,” he calls after she’s vanished from view. “I told Victor I was pretty sure you were gonna kill me in my sleep. So thanks for not doing that.”
“Don’t thank me yet.” Elena’s voice drifts down the stairs as she ascends. “I’ve got one night left.”
---
The only thing more tooth-rotting than watching Nathan and Elena say goodbye to each other turns out to be watching Nathan and Elena say hello to each other.
“Oh my God, save it for alone-time,” Sam grumbles good-naturedly as he approaches the couple, wrapped so tightly around each other that he can’t quite figure out where she ends and he begins.
“Shut up, Sam,” Nathan retorts, voice muffled by his wife’s shoulder. Sam laughs and nods to Victor.
“She didn’t murder you, then?” Victor asks from the doorway, winking at Elena.
“I decided he was your problem now,” she says with a grin. “If anyone has to put him out of his misery, it’s you.”
---
The small talk only lasts a few minutes. Victor is clearly eager to catch him alone; most likely he’s got some distinctly shady business that he wants to talk about once they’re out of earshot of the innocent side of the family. Maybe smuggling, maybe thievery. Definitely nothing good.
Nathan and Elena clearly want to be alone, too, though that’s for something entirely different.
“I’ll see you sometime,” Sam says to Elena as he gives her a hug goodbye. He’s pretty sure it’s the first hug he’s gotten from her that’s more than an obligation, so it leaves a warm feeling in the pit of his stomach.
“I’ll see you at Christmas,” she corrects with a stern expression. “You’re both coming.”
“That doesn’t sound negotiable,” Victor declares wryly.
“It’s not. I’m gonna need some extra hands, considering I’m gonna look like I’ve swallowed a planet by then.”
---
Christmas doesn’t happen.
Victor’s distinctly shady business evolved quickly from a simple in-and-out job to a whole load of trouble. They’re holed-up fourteen miles out of Bulawayo when a message comes through for the both of them.
Merry Christmas. Wish you were here. x
It’s from Elena, and Sam instantly feels awful when he reads it. Victor checks his own phone at the same time, then meets Sam’s eyes with a similar embarrassed expression as he imagines is on his own face.
“Aw, hell,” Victor says eventually, tucking his phone back into his pocket.
“Yeah.” Sam rolls his shoulders; he’s getting too old to be sitting in one place for this long, so he can’t imagine how Victor must be feeling. With false bravado, he adds, “Would have been too domestic, right?”
“Sure.” Victor’s tone is equally hollow.
Sam thinks about the Christmas he wishes he was having. Turkey with all the trimmings, stupid music and stupid movies in the background, surrounded by family… He’d rather have domesticity than this; hiding out in an abandoned building with Victor until their angry pursuers decide they’ve had enough. Even drug-smuggling militias should have a day off for Christmas.
“We’re not doing this to them again.” It’s Sam who eventually breaks the silence, but Victor’s heavy sigh implies he was thinking of doing the same.
“No.”
---
When the baby comes, they’re all on high alert.
True to their many, many promises and apologies, Sam and Victor divert immediately to the nearest airport the second they get Nathan’s panicked phone call. Elena, when she takes the phone, is characteristically calm, alternating between giving them directions to the hospital and berating her husband for worrying so much.
Sam thinks he’s doing an excellent job of not panicking, despite the fact that Nathan’s anxiety is so palpable it’s almost contagious.
The flight is a long six hours. Sam’s phone is on at the first opportunity, and he is greeted with six frantic updates, three detailed transcripts of conversations with doctors, and a picture of Elena doing a Sudoku. Clearly not the most dramatic birth story ever told, then, he informs Victor with a smirk, calm now that he has some information. He calls Nathan when they’re out of the airport, and he answers on the second ring.
“Hey, I was about to call you.” Nathan’s voice is far softer than it was, the initial panic having faded.
“Yeah, we’re on our way now,” Sam answers without prompt. “Victor says hi. How is everything?”
“Good. Boring, actually. Movies make this seem a lot more exciting than it actually is.”
“Hey, boring is good. Boring means nothing’s wrong.”
“Exactly. I’ll take boring. How long ‘til you guys get here?”
“An hour? Hour and a half tops. Keep us posted.”
“I will.”
“Hey,” Sam hesitates for a second. “You ready for this?”
There’s a pause on the other end of the phone, and for a moment Sam worries that he’s not going to like the answer, before Nathan sighs out a laugh.
“Yeah.”
---
Sam Drake doesn’t cry.
He doesn’t cry when Nathan places his baby niece in his arms.
He doesn’t cry when he looks down at her, blinking and squirming and completely helpless. (Though when her tiny fingers wrap around one of his, he almost loses it)
But when Elena quietly tells him that they’re thinking of calling her Cassandra, that’s when he cries.
He’ll deny it if anyone ever brings it up later. But he cries.
And he’s going to look after that little girl with everything he has.