Nathan Drake didn't cry.
It was a plain, down to earth fact that no one could argue with. He didn't cry when his parents fought, he never cried when his mother slit her own throat in front of him, he didn't cry when his own father gave him up. He never cried.
So why was he crying now, trudging alone in the middle of the Rub'al Khali desert?
He couldn't even remember the last time he had tasted water on his lips, so it was a welcoming sight to see the rain clouds approaching in the distance. He didn't think, he just ran, ran as fast as his aching legs could carry him towards the greyish clouds, driven by the hopes of finally finding water.
Suddenly, the clouds vanished. And all there was, was him, standing in the middle of endless amounts of the bone dry desert, under the blistering heat. He groaned.
Another mirage.
But why did it seem so real, when his tears seemed to mingle with the rain only seconds ago? It seemed more real than anything he had felt for the last few days, but it had a simple answer; you would always be surprised what one will believe when it is what they want to believe.
Drake liked to think he wasn't that kind of man, but he was. In the end, he was just like everyone else-weak and oblivious. And as much as he hated to admit it, this time, he was truly and utterly defeated.
Amidst the heat exhaustion and hallucinations, Nate's mind drifted back to why he was stuck in this predicament in the first place. Was it money? No. Power? No. It was Sully.
Looking back, he really didn't know what he was thinking. Although he never planned to be searching a 65000km desert, the original plan had a million in one chance in succeeding anyway. But for Sully? Yes, he would do it.
Sully. The only man that would take in a cheeky, cocky, thirteen year old Nate. The man who had been more of a father than his biological one could ever be. He was there to bail Nate out countless times, and there to teach him that some booze, money and women could go a long way.
Mulling it over, it only make Drake hate himself more, as he remembered Marlowe's words:
"Did he really save you from that life, or did he just doom you to this one?"
He hated himself because he almost believed her, enough to truly question his relationship with Sully.
Blood, death or broken bones. He feared none. In reality, Nate was terrified of anything fighting him that he couldn't attack back, and that was what was destroying him from the inside out, the guilt, the pain was worse than his aching throat could ever feel.
Nate didn't need to rely on anyone- at least he would never say it aloud. But he never realized until now that Sully was his rock, his emotional crutch. Drake admitted that maybe he had said some things to Sully that he shouldn't have, but he couldn't take them back, and there was no point in dwelling in the past. Some might think it to be rude, but it was just the way things were for Drake.
You can't spend your entire life stuck in the past.
Which he knew was ironic, coming from him, as he had been chasing his ancestors footsteps for as long as he could remember. But it was true, no regrets, no consequences. It was always ignoring the outcomes of his actions that made Nate, Nate.
"You gotta be bold, you gotta be tough, and although that means sometimes being bad, it's the only way you're gonna survive in this goddamned world kid."
Nate never understood what Sully meant by that at the time, but now he did. Getting up, he searched the barren landscape for something, anything that could guide him. Finding nothing, he made the only choice he could. Keep walking.