Disclaimer: I don't own anything from the Uncharted series

srsly i dont pls dont sue me

1

Angela

I closed the door behind me, letting my heavy bags slide down my arms. I gave out a sigh, feeling my chest finally loosen.

I loved my job - I really did, but it wasn't the most relaxing thing. It was beautiful, for a moment, when you're at the top of that mountain or laying in the sand on a beach or walking through a richly green forest, but everything else was full of stress. A whole trip could be for nothing if the photos didn't turn out or the moment didn't feel right and I didn't feel like the photos I took did the landscape justice. But that was the whole point. That was why people paid me to take pictures. Because nearly 100% of the time, I did the landscape justice.

I had just gotten back from Peru. I hiked Machu Picchu. I enjoyed myself immensely. I liked my alone time - six days worth; two for travel and four for the hike. I liked the quiet. It was serene. But I had to admit that there was nothing better than being back home.

I left my bags at the door as I walked through the hallway. After the walls opened up into the living room and I saw it empty, my brows furrowed. "Sam?" I walked through the living room and kitchen of our mid-sized, clean house. I walked around to the office space, sliding the doors open. "Sam?"

I walked up the stairs, knowing that if he wasn't up doing something, he'd be in bed. It was late, after all.

I walked towards the door, surprised when Sam was standing in the doorway. I smiled widely. "Sam." I ran towards him, jumping onto him, wrapping my strong legs and arms around him.

Sam grunted, taking a step back to steady himself before wrapping his arms around me and laughing. "Hi, baby."

I shouldn't have been jumping on him. Sam wasn't exactly in his glory days anymore, though the fact that he was more than just a little older than me had never bothered me. He was the most attractive man I ever had met and he seemed young even for his ripe age of 46. He was incredibly physically fit, which he thanked all his years in prison for. He had a rough life and, yeah, maybe he was thirteen years older than me, but so what? I loved the old dude, and I had an engagement ring to prove it. After twelve years of dating, I should have something to prove it.

I hugged him tightly.

I had missed him; his always sarcastic remarks, playful teasing, and his sexy everything. He was incredibly charming and you wouldn't know it at first glance, but he had a big heart.

My body slid and my feet touched the ground as I continued to hug him.

Sam hummed and breathed into my hair. "I missed you."

I leaned away from his chest, bringing my face close to his, a sly smile on my face. "I missed you too."

Sam narrowed his eyes, tilting his head and smirking. "Oh, really? How much?"

I leaned forward, pressing my lips against his. His facial hair tickled my own face. I liked it. I pressed harder into him, showing him what exactly I wanted. The kiss was no longer a sweet 'hello' kiss, just how I wanted.

...

Absolutely nothing is better than a nice, fluffy, Belgian waffle, except for multiple Belgian waffles.

I let the syrup slide over the waffles, not stopping until I felt I had a sufficient amount. I put the syrup down on the table and started in on cutting my waffles into pieces. I felt Sam's eyes on me and I looked over at him. "What?"

Sam's eyes slowly shifted from my plate to my eyes. "Every time I watch you do that, I get a little nervous."

I chuckled, taking a big bite of the sugary goodness. "Why?"

"You're gonna develop diabetes, Ang."

"No, I'm not," I told him, very sure.

Sam held his hands up in defence and leaned back in his seat. A couple of minutes of comfortable silence passed, just the sound of the cutlery hitting the plate and the young man on the TV reporting the news to us.

Sam's eyes stuck to the TV, except every other couple of seconds where his eyes darted to our home phone that was laying down on the other side of the table we were sitting at. I waited a couple more minutes to see what he was up to. He just kept watching the TV and the phone.

I finally reached a point of enough annoyance to ask, "Why are you acting like such a sketch bag?"

He turned to me, brows furrowed at me, my annoyed face matching his. "Did you just call me a sketch bag?"

I nodded. "Yeah, because you're acting like one." I glanced at the phone and then him. "Who's supposed to call, Sam?" I asked in a firm voice. He was going to answer me. He didn't have a choice and he knew that.

ring ring -

We both reached for the phone at the same time. Sam, who leaned over the table, torso and arms much longer than mine, reached the phone before I could even get close. He pressed the green call button and pressed the phone to his ear.

"Hello?" He waited a second or two before saying, "Yeah." He then turned and hurried out of the kitchen.

The confusion stirred inside of me, along with a horrible feeling. I couldn't finish my breakfast. I threw away what I wasn't going to eat and put the plate in the sink. I zipped up my jacket and grabbed my work bag. I walked through the house to Sam's office, opening the door to see him sitting in his leather chair. "Sam."

Phone pressed to his ear, he looked over his shoulder and mouthed, "What?"

"Who the hell are you talking to?"

He gave me a dismissive gesture. I shook my head, having enough of him for the time being. I took a big step back, taking the door handle with me. The door harshly collided with the door frame and the loud noise echoed through the house. I jogged out of the house, putting all my focus into work.

The work day had started. Dealing with Sam could wait.

...

I woke up to the handsome anchor man on the TV talking about the weather for the week ahead of us. As my vision focused in on the million dollar smile, I let out a deep sigh, looking around. A finished plate of dinner was on the coffee table and my cell phone was next to it. I picked it up, looking at my messages to see that Sam texted that he would be home in twenty minutes. That was forty minutes ago.

I sat up, feeling the ache of our shitty, but pretty couch. I stood, letting the numbness in my legs subside for a second or two before walking out of the living room and into the hallway. "Sam?"

At the end of the hallway was the front door, and in the front door was a flushed faced Sam, holding a small duffel bag. He looked like he had been caught in the act, simply because he had. "Ang -"

"Are you fucking kidding me?" I knew that bag. I knew that look. "Were you gonna say anything to me? Or were you just gonna leave?"

Sam put the bag down and walking over to me, but didn't touch me. He knew better. "Ang, I left a note upstairs and I -"

"A note?" I laughed humourlessly, taking a big step back from him. I couldn't let him stand too close. I could feel the uncontrollable rage building inside of me. "The last thing you ever say to me, in note form?"

"Last thing?" Sam gave me one seriously unimpressed look. "I'm not gonna die."

"No one knows if that's true." I said it firmly and calmly, because I didn't have to prove that point. He knew it was true. This stupid business he seemed to be deeply involved in - it was ridiculous. His thirst for adventure and danger should've been long gone. "Sam, I know you don't want to hear this -" I paused, now stepping forward, putting my hand on his warm face. "But you're not made for this anymore."

"I don't have a choice."

"You always have a choice." The anger was gone, now replaced by a sadness. Sadness that he was going to leave without consulting me about it or telling me about it at all. Sadness that he felt he couldn't share it with me. And sadness that there was always a chance that he would never come back. I wrapped my arms around his neck. "I love you." I kissed him quickly and then turned away just as fast. "But you're a fucking asshole."

"Angela!" Sam yelled after me as I walked down the hall. I couldn't see him, but I imagined he looked down at his shoes, using them as an excuse of already having them on not to come after me. If he didn't leave right then, he wouldn't at all. But that was the thing - he always left when he was faced with the choice of taking off his shoes or walking out that door.

I would say things used to be different, but they had always been the same.

"I cannot believe that you're going through with this!" I walked up the stairs, feeling the heaviness of every step on the stairs. I was stomping, and loudly too. "When will you and Sully learn that there are more able, younger people who can do these dangerous, illegal jobs."

"It's money, Angela."

"It's not worth it, Sam!" I spun around, staring down at him from the top of the staircase. I shook my head. After a years and years of dating, I had experienced more than I had bargained for. I knew that when I met Sam in Portugal, I was going to fall in love with an adventure man, but I never expected these kind of dangerous, underground, sketchy missions.

"Angela -" He made his way up the stairs slowly, his big, tentative hand out in front of him, hoping to stop me from spinning around and slamming the door in his face. "I always come back, baby."

"So far."

He reached the top step, but stayed there. He slid his hand around my waist, tugging me close to him. "Always. And I always will come back, Ang, if it's you that I come back to."

I pushed him backwards lightly, not wanting him to tumble down the stairs, but wanting him to take the hint. "You're smooth-talking won't work this time. I need to know that this is going to end at some point, Sam." I sighed, turning around and walking slowly over to the bedroom. "I need to know that we are gonna have a future together. Prove that to me."

He sighed, eyes shooting over every inch of my very serious face. "Fine." He shook his head, starting to smile. "Since you're so impatient and demanding, I'll do this earlier than I wanted to." He put his hand in his pocket, pulling out a beautiful, sparkling pear-shaped ring.

"Don't propose," I said to him quickly. "That's not fair."

He sighed, slowly getting down on one knee. "I'm proving that we're gonna have a future, just like you asked." He looked up at me, twisting the ring between his thumb and pointer finger, holding it out to me. "So, Angela you hate your last name..." He tried to undo his smile, but couldn't. "Take mine instead."

The smile that came to my face was wide and painful. The joy that filled me was unbearable. I threw myself forward. "Yes!" I laughed, rolling around with him on the hardwood. "Yes, I will marry you."

And Sam still had left. He waited until the morning. How gracious of him. We had a fight about it for a long time, but it ending up not mattering anyway, because I had that beautiful pear-shaped ring on just the right finger on just the right hand.

I loved Sam more than anything, but since he proposed, he had gone on plenty more trips - more than I allowed, but I knew that he was never going to listen to that rule. He went on more trips I was comfortable with. That was the problem. Because when he disregarded me like that, it seemed like all he cared about was himself, the money, and the adrenaline of the adventure.

And so I went to bed that night, trying to not think about all the things that were going wrong in my life when they were supposed to be going right.

...

I was in the office, doing all the research required for my next trip. I had a lot to plan for Iceland. I was very busy, or at least I was trying to keep myself that way. I kept my coffee cup full on all the tabs on my computer open. I was creating more work than needed, but it made the day go by faster.

"Angela?"

"Yeah?"

My coworker put some papers down on my desk and then put his hand on my shoulder, spinning my spinny chair to face the only phone we had in the office. "You've got a call."

I took a deep breath. I knew I should've been rushing over to the phone to make sure Sam was ok, but I wasn't. I knew I should've been answering every call he made to my cell phone, but I didn't. The truth was that I couldn't handle talking to him. I didn't want to fight with him, which was the only way I saw our conversation going.

"Ang, the phone."

"Yeah, I got it," I said, standing up and walking over to the phone. I took one more deep breath, lifting the phone and pressing it to my ear. "Hello?"

"Hey, baby."

I cleared my throat, trying not to feel any kind of happiness for the sound of his deep, wonderful voice. "Where are you?"

"India. Western Ghats." Sam sighed on the other line, the sound harsh and sharp. "It's beautiful here, Ang. You and I will come back here one day."

"Sure."

Sam stayed silent for a second or two. "Don't talk my ear off, now."

I closed my eyes, leaning against the desk and rubbing my face roughly. "I have to get back to work, Sam."

"Now wait a minute -" He sounded angry now. "It's costing me a lot of money for this call. I thought you'd want to hear from me." His voice turned to a softer, more somber tone. "I thought you'd be happy to hear from me."

I bit my lip, feeling the sting in my eyes as I kept them open. I was too afraid to blink - too afraid that anyone in the office would see the tears fall over my cheeks. I didn't want anyone asking about it. "I'm glad you're safe. I have to get back to work now."

"I'll call you again soon."

"Don't," I told him quickly, unsure of where I was headed with that. For the moment, I couldn't stand the thought of him being so far away, so close to death at any moment. It hurt me. And he kept doing it.

"Why?"

"Because I can't -" A tear fell over my cheek. I reached up and quickly wiped it away, setting the phone back into its rightful place. I took a quick breath, setting all my emotions back to square one - a blank canvas, and I walked back over to my desk to finish some pressing work.

...

Sam didn't call. I didn't know when he'd be back, because he didn't call. It had been two weeks. I was glad, but worried. I wouldn't have to have the burning discussion with him about how we weren't going to work if these trips continued. He would try to convince me that they were essential and that they didn't affect us, and I would tell him he was wrong but fall back to him anyway. I couldn't do that anymore. I couldn't do anymore of these dangerous, money-grabbing, secretive adventures.

I didn't know how to tell him that.

And so when I was packing for my trip to Iceland, I found myself packing most of my closet - all the essentials and more. I had lots of friends in Iceland that said I would be more than welcome to stay with them for however long I needed.

My plan was to go there and get the photos I needed. I was going there for work, but if I happened to stay a little while longer, just to relax, take a moment to breathe that wasn't in a house that reminded me of Sam every where I looked - then so be it.

I left a note, in class Sam fashion, as well as my beautiful pear-shaped ring. I didn't want to lose int on my trip. Most times, I didn't wear it, but took it with me. For this trip, I'd leave it. I didn't really want to look at.

Because the truth was I hated Sam because he put me through so much shit with these jobs, but he was the greatest love of my life. I missed him. I hoped he was safe. I hoped he would come back alive, but not to me - not right now. I wasn't ready to have a conversation that might end in...well, the end.

...

Iceland was perfection. There was so much land and so little civilization. Their was the densely populated city of Reykjavík, along with other cities scattered around, but everything in between were vast spaces of pure nature - just a lot of nothingness.

I had done my job - taken all the photos I needed and drove an hour into the next city to send the photos. Now I was sitting back in the tiny house on the hill with the friendliest Icelandic family you would ever meet.

I was sitting at their round, oak table, having a cup of straight green tea, admiring the view from the huge window. I was relaxing. Until the satellite phone that I was required by work to have with me started to ring. It was loud and painful to the ears.

Somewhere in the house, someone yelled, "Angela! Síminn pinn hringir!"She was telling me that my phone was ringing, as if I wasn't sitting right in front of it.

I laughed, picking up the small device, pressing the one button and holding it to my ear. "Halló?"

"Angela, it's Dean." One of my coworkers. "Sam came into the office looking for you." He was being fast and brief because every minute on the phone was costing the company six american dollars a minute.

But I took my time sucking in a breath.

He was home. He was alive. He was safe.

I felt the overwhelming emotions washed over me. I was feeling too many things at once. I took a second more to regain my composure. "Uh, what did he say?"

"He was looking for you. You should call him."

Knowing that he was safe, I felt no need to call him and talk to him yet, but I had a lot of time to think. A note and my ring was maybe not the best of ways to leave things with Sam. He was probably confused, angry, and annoyed. He deserved an explanation. And I missed his voice.

"Connect me to my landline."

"Angela."

"It'll be quick," I said hastily. "Connect me."

He didn't say anything else. And then the sound of getting cut off and a little bit of fuzz led me to the sound your phone made when it was ringing up a number. My patience was wearing thin with every single ring.

"Hello?"

I sighed in relief. "Sam."

"Angela." He mimicked my tone. He then took a breath. I imagined he was standing up from his chair at his desk, moving around the room, hands in his dark, greying hair. "You're in Iceland."

"I had a job."

"How long have you been there?"

"A week."

"It's taking that long?"

I ignored the question immediately. "When did you get back?"

"A couple of hours ago." With the time change, he would've gotten back sometime in the afternoon, which meant he wasted no time running to my office to see me. It was endearing and so incredibly annoying.

"What shape are you in?"

"A couple of limbs lost, no biggie."

I laughed, turning my cup full of tea around and around. "Sam."

"I got a little roughed up. India's terrain isn't as forgiving as I thought, but nothing out of the ordinary." There was silence for a couple of seconds. "You only left a note." Another second of silence. "And your ring."

I stopped spinning my mug, hand landing flat on the table, looking at my ringless hand. "I didn't want to risk losing it."

Sam laughed, though there was little humour in it. He sounded...nervous - not a common one for Sam. "I thought that was you're clever way of leaving me. 'Here's your ring, I'm leaving for Iceland, see you never, asshole. Love, Angela'."

I pulled my knees up to my chest, looking out at the bare bones of Iceland. The beauty was staggering and refreshing. It was easy to look at and think and lose your mind and time.

I missed Sam. A lot. But it didn't change the fact that the way things were between us were strained.

"We have some stuff to talk about when I get back."

"Let's talk now."

"I can't talk about this over the phone." I tapped the table, nerves growing at the thought of having the dreaded conversation.

"Then come home," Sam told me, almost demanding. Again, he took a second to dial down. He spoke again in his rough, yet comforting voice. "Come home."

"I'm not done in Iceland yet."

"You've got your set of photos. I've seen them myself. They're beautifully done, as always. You are done there, Ang. If you want to talk, come home and talk to me. I'll be here waiting."

The line went dead, the awful vibrating, white noise playing out. I set the phone down, picking up my tea and taking one very long sip.

...

I left my bags at the door, the exhaustion rushing over me. I was too tired to carry them; too tired to walk; too tired to think. My feet dragged against the floor as I walked through the dark house.

All I needed was an ice cold glass of water and my bed.

I flicked on the lights to the kitchen, the figure leaning against the counter causing me to gasp, hand flying to my chest to ensure my heart was still beating.

Sam was leaning over the counter, in just his boxers. He had cuts all over him, some looking slightly more serious than others. His whole body was tan, but looking in rough shape. His face was tired, but clean with a bandage over his eyebrow.

I had seen worse.

He stood straight, looking me in the eyes. "Welcome home, baby."

My hand fell from my chest and I let the jitters come out as I exhaled. I walked over to him slowly, wrapping my arms around him, leaning my head into his chest. "Welcome home to you too."

He wrapped his arms around me tightly, engulfing me in his warm body. He rubbed my back and kissed my head and stroked my hair. His comforting gestures were enough to make my start to fall asleep where I stood. He then grabbed my shoulders, pushing me away from him lightly. "How was Iceland?"

"Great. How was India?"

"Great."

"Can you tell me what you did?"

"Got the tusk of Ganesh."

The legendary Tusk of Ganesh.

I was so tired that I couldn't find it in me to give a suitable reaction. Instead, I blinked, letting my heavy eyes fall before opening them again. "Do I want to know how?"

He pushed some hair from my face, smiling softly. "If I told you, I'd have to kill you."

I barely managed a chuckle, taking a step away from him. "I'm going to bed."

He latched onto my wrist, pulling me back to him. His grip was firm and determined, and so was his face. "Not until we talk."

I shook my head. "What about?"

"Why did you tell me not to call you? Why did you overstay in Iceland?" He stopped after those two questions, thankfully. He let go of my wrist, crossing his arms over his battered chest. "Why?"

I struggled to breathe. I couldn't think of a sensible answer. "This is hard for me, Sam."

"What is?"

"Everything!" My voice wasn't loud, but it was harsh. I had reached a point where that was how it was going to stay until I could get my point across. Until I could make my train of thought seep into Sam's thick skull. "All these illegal jobs you take to get all of these amazing artifacts. You leave and you always come back all roughed up."

"These are opportunities I can't miss, Ang." He was trying to stay calm so that he could persuade me easier.

"But you never ask. You just leave with barely any notice. Have you ever considered how shitty that is for me?"

"You mean like you're little stunt to Iceland?" His calm demeanour was fading. The crazy-eyed, passionate, loud Sam I had always known resurfacing.

"Yes!" My voice was only getting louder. "Exactly like that! Picture that, but every six months. No explanation, barely any calls - I never know what you're doing, how you're doing or when you're gonna come home. I'm always waiting!"

"But I'm back now!" He was yelling now. The redness in his face was apparent, even in the dim light of our beautiful kitchen. "I always come back!"

"But you keep leaving!" I reached the maximum loudness of my voice in the state I was in. I breathed heavily, letting my head fall as my hands found the counter to steady my tired self. "You keep leaving and I keep waiting and I can't do it anymore."

"Baby -"

"No." I looked up at him, begging him not to sweet talk me. "I won't go through it again. I'm done doing this. India was the last straw. I'm done."

The kitchen was silent, other than the crack in Sam's ankle when he shifted on his feet, and then he said, "Angela, I would've never taken as many jobs if I knew I was going to lose you."

"I've always warned you that you would lose me, but you keep doing it."

He looked at me with this incredulous look - as if I had slapped him across the face. "I never thought you would actually leave."

My brows furrowed, very offended. "You thought you're impossible to leave? That I'm too weak?"

"No! No, I -"

"Then what? I could never possibly leave you - why would you think that despite me telling you -"

"I thought we would be together always." Sam's hands found the counters as well, resting his weight on them as he looked down at me, eyes become heavy as well. "That's how I pictured us - together always."

I was so tired in that moment and so tired of the years together that had been spent wasted away because of Sam's need for dangerous adventures. "I can't live always like this, Sam. It hurts too much. I have to be done."

He took a big step forward, toes touching mine. He put his hands on the side of my face, lifting it to make my eyes meet his. "Don't leave me," he asked politely. "Stay with me, Angela." He quickly looked at the counter, reaching and grabbing something. He held my engagement ring up between our faces. "Marry me and I won't take another illegal, sketch-bag job again."

I glanced at the ring and then back again. "If you marry me, you will still venture out. You will do great things. You will accomplish anything you want, but you won't leave on short notice or come back with all these unexplained injuries, or put yourself in the way of danger. You won't take a dangerous, illegal job without consulting me about it first or asking my opinion. You won't be a sketch-bag. Promise me."

"I promise." No hesitation. He never did, really. He didn't wait for my answer as he took my hand and slid it onto my finger. His hands reconnected with my cheeks, pulling me forward to kiss him. Our lips parted for only a second. "I love you. Oh, I love you." He kissed me again and again and then pulled me close, kissing my neck as he held me against him tightly.

He didn't want to let go.

...

Nate and Elena had this incredible set up in their home where you could sit in the house, on two incredibly comfy chairs, in front of two french doors that were usually always open rather than not, and you were looking out onto the most beautiful, blue ocean. The warm air wafted in and the sound of the waves were forever relaxing. Their beach house was amazing. I mean, you walked down the stairs on their deck and your feet were touching the hot, white, sand. Sam and I were quick to come down when invited. Also, we were the best house-sitters in the world.

Nate, Sam, and Cassandra were setting up the boat to go sailing. Elena and I said we would get the cooler ready, but it sorted shifted into sitting on the two incredibly comfy chairs and drinking wine.

"November? Why November?"

I shrugged, swirling my wine around. "I figured a wedding in the winter was suitable. It'll weed out the people that don't actually want to come. And then we can go skiing."

Elena laughed her infectious laugh. She clinked her glass to mine. "Cheers to that. Only took 80 years for you guys to finally set a date."

"I guess we didn't really feel any need to rush," I said. Honestly, it never bothered me how long Sam and I had been engaged, but now that we were talking about the wedding, it was a strange feeling of excitement that kept arising. "You guys will be wrapped shooting by then, right?"

They had some big stint in Cuba, but they would definitely be finished by that time.

"Oh, yeah." Elena nodded, crossing her legs over one another and sinking into her chair. "Definitely."

I nodded my head, sinking back into my chair as well. All the muscles in my body started to relax for the first time in a long time. I smiled, looking out at Sam. He was laughing about something with his brother, looking handsome. My eyes then shifted to Cassandra - the wonderful daughter of Nate and Elena. "Man, she sure has grown."

"Hasn't she?"

I had known Elena for a very long time, and knowing Elena, I knew that her entire life and her entire passion and the the excitement she had was always for filming and reporting. It was her journey. It was her life and her passion. But I had never seen Elena look at a camera the way she looked at Cassandra. Cassandra was truly her life and passion now. It was so warming to watch.

"You're next."

But not warming enough to make me want a child.

I just laughed, twirling the thin part of my wine class on the arm rest of the chair. "That's funny, Elena," I said seriously, earning a laugh from the beautiful blonde. "You and Nate had a kid, why do Sam and I need one?"

"I think you guys would make a great-looking baby."

I shook my head. "I don't need another Sam in my life. This one takes up enough of my energy. He's irrational and occasionally stupid, but I love him. I really wouldn't trade him for anything or anyone." I raised the wine to my mouth, tasting it before even drinking it. It was stronger than I thought. I felt my body get light. "Or maybe I'm just drunk."

Both of us laughed loudly. Nate called for the two of us and we started to stand, each of us taking a side to the cooler and bringing it down the wooden steps. We made it to the beach before we had to lose to cooler to save ourselves.

I regained my balance, laughing along with Elena. Arms came around me to steady me. I placed my hand on Sam's hairy arm, looking over my shoulder at him, finding his face very close to mine. "Hi."

He gave me a knowing look. "Little too much wine?"

"No such thing as too much wine," I corrected.

"That is true." Sam took a step back, grabbing my left hand, barely glancing down at the ring before smirking wildly at me, holding an arm out to the boat. "M'lady."

All of us got onto the boat, setting off to sail on the calm waters. I felt grateful for my life. I felt grateful for Sam. Despite him being a fucking asshole.