I love Uncharted and have played each game at least twice, but there's one gap in the story that the games don't explain - how Nathan ends up alone in Cartagena without Sam. We see the two brothers run off together from St. Francis' Boys Home, but the next time we see Nate, it's a few years later and he's alone. From the way he interacts with Sully when they meet, I imagine whatever split him and Sam up was something that left Nate in a tough spot. Most all the fanfiction I've read puts Sam in jail at this point, which is a logical explanation for his absence. (Maybe I just missed something canon that hints at this?) Either way, it's not quite what I imagine happened, so this is my version of how Nate got stranded in Cartagena.
Also, I don't usually name my chapters, but it just kinda fit this story, so I gave it a go ;)
Chapter One: Why Can't We Just Go Home?
Nate stared out the taxi window at the passing scenery and scowled. He put his chin in his hand and made a face at his freckled reflection. He needed a haircut. Nate tugged his hair out of his eyes impatiently. He supposed he ought to be impressed with the scenery flashing by his window, but he'd seen it all before - fields, vineyards, stucco houses in picturesque scenery, sea birds and bright flowers in late summer's harsh colors. Most people only dreamed of seeing other countries. Nate just dreamed of staying put in one.
Over the past three years, he and Sam and traveled, weaseled, and snuck their way all across Europe. Nate had been in Glasgow and Dublin and had slipped over the corner of Sweden. He'd seen London and Paris and Venice. He'd even been in a jail cell in Germany over something Sam labeled as a "big mistake." He and Sam and been in and out of hotels, apartments, convents, and houses, living out of suitcases and borrowed clothes. In fact, the red t-shirt Nate wore now was Sam's. He'd lost his last clean shirt in Barcelona when Sam suddenly burst into their hotel room, grabbed as many possessions as he could, shoved a leather satchel in Nate's hands, and dragged him out the door.
Sam had taken Nate straight to an airport where they promptly boarded a plane headed for South America. Nate had no idea where Sam got the money for plane tickets but, by some miracle, they made it through security and onto the plane, where they had remained until touching down somewhere in Columbia. After that, Sam bargained the taxi fee out of a kind old lady with a crazy lie about a dead Aunt in Cartagena.
"We're out of money again, aren't we?" Nate muttered under his breath as they climbed into the backseat of the taxi.
"Of court not!" Sam replied indignantly. "I'm just saving for a hotel in Cartagena."
"And why are we going to Cartagena, exactly?" Nate asked.
"You'll see when we get there, kiddo," Sam smiled.
Nate just rolled his eyes and stared out the window. He wasn't in the mood for Sam's smile right now. And he was a little too old to be called 'kiddo' anymore.
"Aw, c'mon, Nathan. Give your brother a smile, hey?" Sam leaned forward in his seat, trying to peer into Nate's face. Nate gave his brother a brief sowl and turned back to the window.
"What's wrong, little brother? Don't like the scenery?" Sam spread his hands.
Nate turned from the window. "You know full well that's not what's wrong."
Sam's smile slipped. "What do you mean?"
Nate frowned. "I wish you'd stop pretending everything is ok and just level with me. I'm not a kid anymore, Sam. I can see what's happening. And country-hopping just isn't fun anymore. Maybe I believed you when I was thirteen, but you're not fooling me now."
"Country hopping?"
"You know what I mean. I want a home. I want to go to school like a normal kid. I want friends."
"Aren't we friends, Nathan?" Sam blinked suddenly, the kind of blink that meant he was trying to hide emotions.
"Yeah," Nate agreed. "But I want other friends."
Sam frowned. "Are you trying to say I'm not enough? Are you saying you don't appreciate everything I've done for you?"
Nate paused. Up until now, he'd always answered that question by reassuring Sam that of course he was enough. He'd always be enough. But now, he wasn't so sure.
"Maybe I am, Sam," he finally answered.
"But, Nathan, we're family. We're the Brothers Drake."
"I'm not denying that."
"Then what are you saying?" Sam's voice was suddenly chilly.
Nate sighed. "Look. All I'm trying to say is, maybe it's time for the Brothers Drake to find a home. Maybe it's time we got real jobs and paid rent and went to school and didn't hide behind the nearest dumpster when the authorities walk by."
"What? And give up our search for Avery's treasure?"
"Who says we have to give it up?" Nate spread his hands. "Maybe it's best to lay it aside for now though and pick up the trail again when we have better resources."
"Nate," Sam gave his brother one of those patronizing smiles when he was warming up to a topic Nate didn't understand. "If we give up now, the trail might go cold again." Sam patted his backpack where he stashed their mother's notebook. "Besides, we have the best resource of them all. We have all of mother's clues and information - probably more than any treasure hunter out there."
"Yeah, but they have a lot more money."
"What's money got to do with it?" Sam was indignant.
"Everything!" Nate insisted. "We can't keep hoping to run into crazy old ladies kind enough to give us taxi fare, Sam. I've had enough of the sneaking around, stealing, and lying. Avery's treasure has been hidden for over 200 years. I don't think another few years is going to make a difference. We can hunt for Mom's treasure when we're older, but for now I just want to settle down and actually have a life."
Nate raised his voice as he talked and the taxi driver gave the boys a backward glance in his mirror. At least he didn't speak English, Nate sighed. Because if he did, he and Sam were going to get arrested as soon as the taxi stopped, going on about treasure and pirates like they were.
Sam frowned at his little brother, but kept his tone low. "Is this not exciting to you? Do you not want to find Avery's treasure? Just imagine! We'd be famous. We'd be rich beyond your wildest dreams. Then we can buy a house and settle down wherever we want. Does Mom's work mean nothing to you, Nathan?"
Nate flinched as if Sam struck him. He blinked. "It means everything to me." He pushed words past the lump in his throat. "It's all we have left of Mom. I just don't think she'd want us to throw our lives away chasing a treasure that she didn't find either."
"Mom didn't find the treasure because she died," Sam's tone was final. "Not because she didn't have money. So what if we're not rich? We've got the guts and the determination to succeed. At least, I do. If you - "
"You're guilt tripping me, Sam," Nate interrupted.
Sam looked over at his little brother and stopped talking. Nate tried to scrutinize Sam's face for his feelings, but lately Sam had become more and more closed. Nate saw frustration and indecision but what chilled him to the bone was a lack of affection. Sam seemed more and more obsessed with finding Avery's treasure and less and less concerned about what he dragged Nate through to get it. Especially now that Nate was old enough to take care of himself. Sam had begun to look at Nate more as an associate than a brother and it scared Nate. Nate shivered and drew his knees up to his chest, resting his heels on the edge of the seat. He leaned his head against the window just as a great drop of rain splattered the glass. The sky had gone cold and gray during his conversation with Sam and Nate let it cry the tears he felt lurking but couldn't muster for himself.
"Nathan."
This time Nate didn't look over at Sam but kept his gaze decidedly on the window. He heard Sam sigh. But he didn't hear the reassurance he so desperately longed for.
The taxi stopped sometime later in what must've been Cartagena. It was dusk outside and still raining. Nate shook himself awake to the sound of Sam arguing with the taxi driver in halting Spanish. Nate gathered the tattered backpack at his feet. It sounded like the kind lady's cash donation for a taxi fare had just run out and the driver wasn't going any further without more payment. To Nate's chagrin, his brother's loud arguments only proved his earlier suspicion - they were out of money.
Nate immediately scouted the area they were in for a place to stay. Or at least get out of the rain. They seemed to be outside Cartagena proper, in a little neighborhood of shops and homes, but nothing that looked like a place to stay. A few people ran across the muddy streets, holding umbrellas and coats over their heads, hurrying through the rain. Hurrying home, most likely. Nate felt an empty pang in his chest. He had no home to hurry to.
He felt a hand on his arm and realized Sam was talking to him "...vaminos, hermanito. Let's ditch this pendejo."
Nate scowled at Sam. While Sam's spanish was rough, he had no problem with name-calling, no matter the language.
The taxi driver spat something equally rude at Sam as the boys got out of the taxi. He sped off as soon as Nate shut the door, splattering the younger boy with muddy water. Nate shouted as the water soaked his jeans, then glared up at Sam, who had remained relatively dry. Sam, at least, had the foresight to look apologetic as the brothers ran under cover of a nearby store awning.
"Now I'm all wet," Nate complained.
"You would've been soon enough anyway." Sam shook water from his hair.
"I'd rather not be wet at all," Nate muttered.
Sam didn't bother to answer.
The brothers had ducked under the awning of a small corner grocery, sharing the space with displays of fruit and vegetables. Nate eyed a basket of apples hungrily. Sam noticed and reached out a casual hand for one, but Nate grabbed his arm.
"Don't."
Sam frowned.
"We're in enough trouble as it is. We don't want more."
"You worry to much, little brother." But Sam put his hand in his pocket and left the apples alone.
Beside him, Nate visibly relaxed. A bike suddenly whizzed by in front of the store, splattering both Sam and Nate with muddy water. They could only watch with indignant shouts as the culprit sped away oblivious.
"Well, there's no use standing around out here," Sam said, looking down with disgust at his mud-spattered shoes. "Let's see what we find inside, yeah?"
Despite the warmth of the evening, Nate could only shiver and agree.
Inside the store was slightly cooler than outside and lined with various displays of local food. It was a modest shop, selling mostly produce and other locally prepared foods and knick-knacks. There were several people inside, some shopping, but many like Nate and Sam who ducked inside to wait out the rain. A man with greying hair and a large moustache waited on customers behind the counter. He gave Nate and Sam a precautionary glare when they walked in but went back to serving his customers when Sam mustered a grin and a wave for him.
Nate kept a wary eye on the man while Sam began his customary routine of asking the locals for a place to stay. A cheap place. In fact, free would be best. Nate followed Sam doggedly. Although he spoke better Spanish than Sam, he didn't bother to help or correct his older brother, who was beginning to draw a lot of attention. After the fifth or sixth attempt with no luck, Sam was noticeably discouraged. Still, Nate didn't say anything.
"You could at least look pitiful or something, get somebody to feel sorry for us," Sam muttered after attempting light conversation with Nate to no effect. Nate rolled his eyes.
"You're right. You already look pitiful enough." Sam said it to spite him, but Nate knew it wasn't far from the truth. His clothes were too big for him, his shoes were worn out, he needed a haircut, some sleep, and a good meal. Nate knew he probably didn't look like more than a street kid and really, except for Sam, that's all he was. And, if he were honest, Sam didn't look much better. His clothes fit, but the knees of his jeans were ripped and he had a fading black eye from some altercation back in Barcelona. But while Nate was still young enough to look like a hapless waif in need of a good meal, Sam's hollow eyes and lean frame made him look like a hungry wolf. While passerby spared pitying glances for Nate, they gave Sam a wide berth with firm hands on their pockets and purses.
"Looks like we're sleeping in the gutter again," Nate muttered, shoving his hands in his pockets.
Sam gave him an annoyed glare, but didn't answer. Nate suspected it was because he was right and Sam didn't want to admit it. The brothers wandered back to the front of the store and tucked themselves into a corner between two shelves to wait out the rain. Sam leaned against the wall and let his head rest against the window overlooking the street.
For the first time, Nate noticed how young and tired Sam looked. Sam always put on a front, but Nate knew running around the world was just as tiring to Sam as it was him. The only difference was that Sam was doing it to himself instead of being dragged in someone else's wake.
Nate slid down the wall to rest at Sam's feet, his backpack an awkward cushion against his back. He scrubbed at his face. What were he and Sam thinking anyway? Sam was barely twenty-one and Nate only fifteen. It was a miracle they hadn't been hauled in and delivered to some orphanage yet. Well, Sam was exempt from that, but Nate still faced the haunting thought of being turned back over to the nuns at St. Francis' Boys Home. Sometimes he thought maybe that would be a better alternative to sneaking through customs, sleeping in alleyways, and begging food from the back of sleazy bars. So what if he wasn't fond of the nuns? At least he had a bed, decent clothes, and he knew when his next meal was coming.
Somehow he thought this traveling thing would be more glamorous. But after three years of running around the world, surviving by the skin of their teeth, and being, in Nate's opinion, no closer to finding Avery's treasure or any clue to it, he was ready to give up and try again later after he found a job or went to school. Or both.
Beside him, Sam suddenly stiffened. Nate looked up to see his brother staring out the window, a grim expression on his face.
"What is it?" Nate asked.
Sam looked down. "Police."
Nate felt his breath catch in his throat and he instinctively began to clamber to his feet. But Sam leaned down and put a restraining hand on his shoulder.
"Relax, little brother. We're not doing anything wrong."
Nate looked indecisive. "Then why'd you get all concerned?"
Sam got that look on his face that meant he was about to deny Nate's claim.
"Don't lie to me," Nate said.
Sam shut his mouth, then faked a smile and shrugged. "Habit, I guess," he said.
Nate didn't entirely buy it, but he sat back down as the door to the store opened and a man in blue pressed trousers and a matching blue buttoned shirt walked in. If there was one thing around the world that didn't change, it was the police, Nate thought glumly. They all looked remarkably similar across countries. Then again, that made them easier to spot, which, Nate supposed, he should chalk up as one good thing in he and Sam's upside-down life.
The policeman walked up to the counter and greeted the man with the moustache. They had a quick conversation and moustache gestured to Sam and Nate.
"Uh-oh," Nate murmured.
Sam straightened up.
The policeman made a beeline for the boys.
"Hola, jóvenes," he greeted them. "¿Que estan haciendo aqui?" [What are you doing here?]
"¿Yo hablo Inglés?" Sam tried hopefully.
The policeman shook his head. "¿Español?" he asked Sam.
"Si," Sam replied resignedly.
Nate didn't know if the policeman was hiding his English, or if he really didn't speak it, but either way, Sam couldn't use his usual tactics of negotiation in Spanish. He wasn't fluent enough to weasel his way out of everything. Nate was, but he'd given up trying to be Sam's mouthpiece months ago.
"¿Ustedes son Americanos, si?"
"Si, señor."
"What brings you to Cartagena?"
"We're - uh - travelers," Sam began, tripping over the longer explanation. "And we - uh - came to visit family in Columbia, you know, on the other side." Sam gestured vaguely. "Our Aunt passed away there and we - uh - thought we'd come to Cartagena to...sightsee...before we go home."
"The two of you are traveling alone?" the policeman asked.
"Yes, sir. Our parents couldn't make the trip because of work so they sent me and my little brother here to pay our respects."
"¿Cuantos años tienes, hijo?"
"Veinte." Sam stood up a little straighter.
"¿Y tu hermano?" the policeman gestured at Nate.
"Quince," Sam said carefully.
At least he got our ages right, Nate thought.
"Habla él Español?" the policeman looked down at Nate. Nate instinctively took a breath to reply, but Sam beat him to it.
"No, señor. He hasn't learned it in school yet."
Nate gave Sam a sharp look.
The policeman studied Nate for a long moment. Nate tried to look innocent and unassuming and ignorant of what was being said about him.
"And you have your passports on you?" the policeman asked.
Nate almost moved to retrieve his passport from his backpack before he realized he wasn't supposed to know what the policeman said. "Por supuesto," Sam nodded and reached into his back pocket. He pulled out a worn passport and handed it over.
"Your passport, little brother," he prompted Nate in English.
Nate nodded and shrugged off his pulled his tattered passport from an inner pocket and offered the document to the policeman.
The policeman studied the two little books for a long moment. Nate felt his heart beat hard in his chest. While there was nothing illegal about the passports themselves, the paperwork to get Nate's had been forged, since a parent couldn't sign for him to get one. Everytime he handed his passport over, he felt like someone would find out somehow and he'd get caught. But the policeman merely grunted and handed the passports back to the boys. Nate busied himself with tucking it back into his backpack so the policeman wouldn't see his hands shake.
"Ven conmigo, jóvenes," the policeman said.
Sam stiffened, but he nodded. "Si, señor," he said. "C'mon, Nathan, let's go."
Nate stood up, looking uncertain, shouldering his backpack.
The policeman gave them a smile. "No voy a herirte. Venga."
Sam's return smile wasn't very convincing, but then again, Nate had come to learn his brother's tells. Hopefully the policeman wasn't picking up the nervous energy pouring off Sam. He motioned for the boys to follow him.
Nate and Sam gave each other a long look. Then Sam shrugged and the two brothers followed the policeman out into the rainy evening.
Since they do speak Spanish in Cartagena, I tried to sprinkle some throughout the story. I'm not a native Spanish speaker and it's been a while since I studied it in school, so let me know if you find any glaring mistakes (unless it's Sam's dialogue, in which case, he's not fluent and makes some mistakes). I've also tried to provide some translations for things that may not be clear from context:
¿Que estan haciendo aqui? - What are you doing here?
Ven conmigo, jóvenes. - You boys come with me.
No voy a herirte. Venga. - I'm not going to hurt you. Come on.
The policeman also asks if the boys are American and how old they are (in case you're rusty with Spanish numbers, Sam is 20 and Nate 15). And, he uses hijo in the colloquial sense, not the literal sense. I don't know if there's another word/phrase for that in Spanish because my internet searches rarely pull up nuanced language tips. So, if you know, let me know ;)