A/N: Taking this for a test run. I recently picked up the Uncharted trilogy again in preparation for the 4th installment, and I have been trying desperately to pick up this muse again. After rereading some of my previous stories, I think I might try for a sequel of sorts, but this is where I decided to start. Let me know if you have some ideas you'd like to see fleshed out. Enjoy; much love!

Disclaimer: Uncharted and its characters do not belong to me; we have Naughty Dog to thank for the fantasy.

The Passport Chronicles

A Series of Snippets

Flight 882: Carson City, NV – Service to Lake Tahoe, CA

"I still can't believe you didn't want to go anywhere exotic," Nate grunted as he dropped his carryon to the floor.

"Why? You've already been everywhere, and I've been to some pretty exotic places already. What's the matter with a little peace and quiet?" Elena asked, leaning back in her seat. Nate glanced over to the flight monitor. "Flight 882: Carson City, NV – Service to Lake Tahoe, CA. On time."

"Well, there are a lot of places for peace and quiet," Nate insisted.

"Like where? Disneyworld?" Elena joked.

"Ha," Nate said without humor. "I mean the south of France—"

"Where you got burned out," Elena interjected.

"That was Eastern France," Nate clarified.

"What's wrong with Tahoe? Can't bring yourself to travel within the confines of the United States?"

"Nah, I don't know. I just get antsy. You know that," he responded.

"Nate, listen. This is my honeymoon. I want a low profile trip. I want Tahoe."

Nate sighed, "Alright. You can have Tahoe. But next time I get Seville."

Elena turned to study him and found his arms crossed over his chest as though he were a pouting 7-year-old. She couldn't decide whether she wanted to get annoyed at his behavior or just laugh. She took his hand instead. "Deal. Tahoe this time, Spain next time."

The window of the cabin was strung open allowing the evening air to drift through. It lightly kissed the feverish, bare skin of the inhabitants. "So, uh… how do you want to start out this honeymoon?" Nate had said when they arrived, slipping a finger through one of Elena's belt loops and pulling her in his direction. They were checked in, unpacked, and completely situated. What was to happen next?

Nate reached over and brushed a few sweat-soaked strands of blonde hair away from Elena's eyes. She chuckled to herself and turned to Nate. "You would think that with all the running and climbing and crap we do everywhere else, we wouldn't even get winded in the sack."

"Heh, yeah," Nate returned. "But it's all worth it." He leaned toward her and placed his lips on her forehead. He just couldn't believe that this woman could love him. He never thought he would ever find a woman that could be and would be completely his; and he was hers. He laid his head back down and basked in the moment.

Elena turned her gaze toward Nate and studied him closely. Her eyes fell upon each scar, and she knew each had a story. First, she placed a gentle finger over the old bullet wound in his abdomen. "Tibet?" she questioned, recalling their excursion through Shambala.

"Mm," he confirmed.

She turned her attention to the strange scar of a scrape on his forearm. "South America?" she guessed as she ran her finger along it. "During the El Dorado thing?"

"Heh, yeah. Our first adventure together."

"What about this one?" she asked as she fingered a raised star-shaped scar on his shoulder.

"Eh, that was Colombia. When Sully and I first met actually."

"Here?" A nick on his chin.

"Istanbul. I have Flynn to thank for that one, too."

"Here?" A mark below his ear.

"Boring. Chicken pox."

"And this?" She moved to a slim line above his elbow.

He paused at this one. "Nah, that's not important," he said as he stared at the ceiling.

Elena didn't respond at first. Instead, she kept her finger there and continued to stare. "Maybe not," she said finally. "But that doesn't mean I don't want to know."

Nate sighed and raised an arm, resting his hand above his head. "The orphanage," he said simply. Elena nodded in silence. She considered stopping there, but this moment was beginning to reveal the level of trust he had in her. She wanted more of this.

"What about… this?" Elena asked, brushing a finger over a discolored portion of skin on his side.

"Even less important," he responded quickly. He pulled away and sat up. This allowed Elena to follow that discoloration from his side to his back. It wasn't as if she never noticed it before, but it was far more evident in the moonlight.

"Nate," she said. "…Please?"

Another sigh. "My father" was his answer. She felt a sting of regret in pushing him to tell her. The negative emotions threatened to well up in tears, but she knew better. Nate did not want sympathy; he simply wanted understanding. She reveled in her husband's presence. It was so interesting to her to think that in his love of history and geography, he became a living map himself. It was a beautiful thing to her, and she wished he could understand this – even if all the stories weren't good ones. She leaned down and placed a simple peck on the discolored flesh across his back. She placed another on the scar above his elbow. Then the one on the forearm. Then the shoulder. The ear. The chin. Finally, she settled on his lips.

"So… what's the second thing you want to do on this honeymoon?" Elena asked. The corner of her mouth was turned up mischievously, but her eyes glowed in pure admiration. How marvelous a man she had – this man who could move on from a life of trauma to something so amazing. He truly was the epitome of "greatness from small beginnings."

Nate recognized this adoration and melted into a soft smile. "How about more of the first?"