So, I just started playing Uncharted and I instantly fell in love with it. As with all my other obsessions, I had to write a fanfic about it. Please enjoy and drop a review!

.:Uncharted Will:.

Nathan Drake wasn't one to feel troubled. He wasn't the kind of person who let his problems affect him. If he was, it would make his profession that much more difficult. Letting his problems affect him would mean chancing letting his guard down in the most integral of times. It'd mean a bullet to the back.

It would mean death.

So, why did he find himself lying awake in bed and for once paying attention to the thoughts in his head?

It was true, this last mission had been hell. It had tested him physically, mentally, but most of all emotionally. Honestly, Nate thought the emotional test still wasn't over.

He rolled onto his side, careful not to wake the other occupant sharing the bed with him. His eyes scanned her face, and though the cuts and bruises marring her complexion had healed and faded considerably, he found himself holding back a grimace.

"So, you're the man that's the supposed descendent of Sir Francis Drake?"

"I am; and I take it you're the supposed reporter going with me on this mission to find his coffin? And hopefully his body?"

"I am. Elena Fisher, at your service."

"Nathan Drake."

"Well, Mr Drake, you ready to head out?"

Back then, if someone had told Nate that this one journalist would end up following him halfway around the world twice, he wouldn't have believed it. He may even have claimed the person to be crazy.

If someone had told him back then that he would end up falling in love with said woman only to have her end up on the edge of death, he would've claimed the person insane.

That imaginary person would have been correct in all his assumptions, however. Nate scrunched up his face in disgust. He hated it when he thought.

Figuring he wasn't getting back to sleep anytime soon, Nate rolled himself out of bed, hurried to find something warmer to wear, and scurried to the door. Only then did he turn to look at the woman in the bed. He let his eyes travel down to the bandage wrapped around her waist that was just barely exposed by the sheets. His eyes studied the blood seeping through for a moment before sighing and walking out the hut.

He wandered back over to the structure where Tenzin had performed a prayer for Schafer, Elena, and all the others lost or injured in the hunt for Shambhala. From there, he made his way over to the ledge he and Elena had just been standing and talking. Looking out at the mountains, Nate tried to clear his head.

It didn't seem to be working. Not only was Elena's near-death experience troubling him, the words of Lazarevic rang in his head.

"So, this little man is Drake, hm?"

"Compassion is the enemy. Mercy defeats us."

"You think I am a monster, but you're no different from me, Drake. How many men have you killed? How many just today? That's it, boy; no compassion, no mercy."

He had been given the chance to kill Lazarevic. The man had actually ordered him to do it and what had he done?

"No," he had said, lowering his gun.

Lazarevic merely laughed in return. "You don't have the will."

Maybe he didn't; and maybe that made him weak and fallible in Lazarevic's and other's eyes. Nate wouldn't let the man's words affect him. He wouldn't.

"…don't have the will…"

"…the will…"

"…little man…"

Nate closed his eyes as he let out a huff. Well…so much for that.

He felt a stinging on his palm and only when he took in the blood on his hand did he realized he had made such a tight fist it had drawn blood.

What made a man? Was it strictly how strong his will was? Nate had never given it much thought. He was known for not thinking that far ahead, but truth was he never thought at all. He was a wild card; the thought of sitting down and thinking made him restless.

He was scared of what he would find.

"Shit, I'm never gonna get to sleep now," he mumbled, kicking a rock off the ledge.

He looked up at the moon and sighed for the umpteenth time that night. The two things weighing heavily on his mind were going to give him hell until he managed to straighten them out. Lazarevic and Elena. Two completely different people, two completely different problems, but affecting him equally as much.

"Tell me something, Nate. Do you love her?"

He hadn't been sure of it before, but after nearly losing her to a grenade he had come to realize that he did. So much so that she, along with Lazarevic, wouldn't let him sleep at night. They had spent the night in the village for two nights now, waiting for Elena to recover enough to go home, and Nate believed whole-heartedly that he hadn't slept a wink.

"Do yourself a favor, cowboy; tell her."

Nate leaned against the fence and closed his eyes.

"…tell her…"

He had tried his hardest to tell her, damn it, but every time he got close to saying it, he chickened out. For being a guy who risked his life on a daily basis getting shot at and venturing into uncharted, sometimes cursed territory, one thing Nathan Drake was afraid of was love. Admitting to love, being in a real relationship; the thought of it frightened him.

But…maybe with Elena it would be different? She could hold her own Nate knew. Hell, if she survived that grenade blast she could survive anything. She obviously was like him in the way that she always seemed to be getting herself into trouble. Perhaps there was even a chance that she felt the same way he did. After all, she willingly followed him during his search for El Dorado a year ago and Nate liked to think she even followed him this time. She had at least gone willingly with him after Jeff had been murdered.

"I still can't do it," Nate mumbled to himself. "Lazarevic was right. My will is weak. Hell, I probably don't even have a will."

"Nate?"

Caught off guard, Nate spun around startled to confront his visitor. He felt both excited and nervous when he saw it was Elena.

"Shouldn't you still be resting?" he asked, looking away.

"Well, hello to you too," Elena shot back with a small smile.

Nate huffed and turned to face her, giving in and smiling back. He watched her ample up to him and lean heavily against the fence next to him.

"How're you feeling?" he asked. "Any better?"

"A bit. How are you?"

Nate looked at her bewildered. "What do you mean? You're the one that nearly got blown up!"

"Well, you seem troubled."

Nate smirked. "Do I?"

"Nate, I'm serious here…"

"So am I."

Elena chuckled briefly before she turned serious again. "I mean, I heard you mention Lazarevic. Nate, are you okay?"

They held each other's gaze for a moment. Nate didn't want to give in. He really didn't feel like discussing this right now. He didn't like to think about his problems and he especially didn't like to talk about them. But, then again, he knew if he didn't come out with everything now, he probably never would.

"I…I don't know," Nate finally answered, looking back out to the mountains. "I feel…exhausted and…not myself."

"How do you mean?" Elena asked.

"I just don't feel like myself. I'm letting things affect me that I never have before."

"Like?" she edged him on. "It'll do you good to talk about everything, Nate. Believe me; I took a course in psychology in college."

"You did?"

Elena nodded. "That's beside the point though. Talk to me, Nate, please?"

He glanced at her briefly. "Well, I mean, there's what happened to you obviously."

Elena faked a gasp and said, "I thought I was only a four!"

"I ended up letting it slide to a five, if I recall correctly," he added jokingly, wanting to lighten the mood before divulging what was on his mind.

"Still, a five doesn't usually warrant consuming one's mind."

"So, perhaps I lied."

"I so called it."

Nate smiled before pulling her to his side. Elena willingly complied and wrapped her arm around his, resting her head on his shoulder.

They stood there in a comfortable silence, relishing in the comfort they each gave one another. Nate was slowly mustering enough courage and swallowing enough of his ego to talk.

"You were right, you know," he finally started in a quiet voice that didn't sound like him at all, "about the tears. I do remember shedding a few." Quickly, he sneered down at Elena and added, "I wouldn't go as far as saying I was bawling, though."

"When that grenade went off," Nate continued, his voice back to its quiet tone, "and then when I saw you on the floor feet away…I had never felt so helpless before in my life; and that's coming from a guy who's looked death in the eye more than can possibly be healthy."

He felt Elena rub his arm both in comfort and reassurance before he carried on again.

"I…I thought you were dead, Elena," he whispered in a voice so pitiful Elena believed the man standing next to her wasn't Nathan Drake anymore. "I don't know if you knew this, but you weren't breathing when Chloe and I finally got you back to the village. You hadn't uttered a breath since we exited Shambhala. God knows what they did to get you breathing again, but I'll be forever grateful."

"I'm so sorry, Nate. I should've listened to you and stayed away from Flynn in the first place," Elena mumbled.

"No," Nate replied quickly, spinning to face her and grabbing her shoulders lightly. "No. It's not your fault, Elena, get it? We had no idea Flynn, goddamn him, had that grenade on him. It's not your fault."

"Well then don't go blaming yourself either, okay?"

Nate promised her he wouldn't before he reached up to caress Elena's cheek. He smiled sadly as his thumb ran over one of the many scratches on her face.

"Pity he took the pin…"

"…took the pin…"

"Elena!"

"So, I hate to ask, but how does Lazarevic play into any of this?" Elena asked, bringing him back to Earth for the second time that night.

Nate huffed and dropped his hand to his side. Elena immediately regretted bringing it up for she missed the warmth of his strong hand.

"All of his theories and ideas about will and power, compassion and mercy; it's made me think about myself," he explained. He looked to Elena and asked, "What do you think a will is, Elena?"

"Well," she began, toying with Sir Francis' ring around his neck, "I think the will of a man depends strictly on what kind of person that man is."

Nate quirked an eyebrow, edging Elena to continue her explanation. Elena grinned up at him.

"For example, I have the will to be stubborn—to always get my way, to make others to give in, to fight. You possess this certain will, too, though I feel your will to do good triumphs above any other will you may have."

"The will to do good? Elena, I'm a treasure hunter; technically that makes me a thief and last time I checked, thieves aren't considered good people."

Elena laughed. "Nate, I'm talking about the will to do what's right. Why did you search for Shambhala? Not to steal the Cintamani Stone, but to stop Lazarevic and any others from abusing its power. Why did you track down El Dorado? For the exact same reason, Nate."

She reached for his hands and squeezed them. "You're a good person, Nate. I don't know what Lazarevic told you or what thoughts his beliefs forced into your head, but any will you possess is good enough. Your will to do good, your will to never give in, your will to love?"

Nate smiled down at her and squeezed her hands back. Elena returned his smile and felt confident that she was getting through to him. That psychology course that she took seemed to have its benefits.

Slowly, though, Nate's smile faded away.

"It's just…I feel as though Lazarevic didn't see me as a man. He wanted my will to be stronger. Hell, he wanted me to kill him back at the Tree, but I just didn't have the will to do it."

"That doesn't mean you're not a man, Nate," Elena supplied. "Lazarevic's will may have been stronger, but it was stronger in all the wrong ways. His will was strong because he was a leader—a bad, evil leader, but a leader all the same. He had the will to 'do what other men would not' as he said, but that doesn't mean those 'other men' had weak wills." Clasping his hands tighter, she added, "Your will is strong, Nate, in a better way than Lazarevic's could ever be."

"Perhaps my will is still uncharted? Waiting to be filled in?" Nate joked.

"Cute," Elena quipped.

"You know, all that talking helped, I think. Though, I didn't understand half of what you said."

Elena punched his arm and they shared a laugh. Wrapping an arm back around her, Nate pulled Elena back to his side.

"Seriously though, thanks."

"No problem."

The couple reverted back to silence again. Soon, however, Elena's wounds began to hurt her a bit, screaming out their detest of not being rested.

"Will you be alright if I go back to bed?" she asked. "Doctor's orders, right?"

Nate chuckled. "I'll be fine. You rest up so we can leave soon. I hate the cold."

Elena leaned up and planted a chaste kiss on his lips before staggering back into the hut. Nate watched her go with a smile. He had an itching to get back to bed as well, but still felt as if he wouldn't be able to sleep. There was still one last thing on his mind.

"Once again, Nate," he mumbled to himself, kicking the ground below him, "you passed up a great opportunity to take Chloe's advice."

He stared almost longingly at the hut that Elena just disappeared into. Why couldn't he resign himself to love? He wondered how things would be different if he had spilled back when they returned home from the El Dorado mission. They wouldn't have gone their separate ways and lost touch definitely, but would it have worked back then? Was it too soon? Was now the right time?

"Shit, I hate love," Nate grumbled, his eyes still trained on the hut.

Five more minutes passed before he huffed loudly and started walking towards the hut.

"Awh, screw it. Here goes everything."

He got right in front of the bed before he came to a halt in his steps.

"…tell her…"

Nate sighed as he carefully sat down on the bed next to Elena—he silently vowed to stop sighing after tonight, he had surely done enough of it.

"Elena?" he called as he stroked the blonde locks that had fallen out of her ponytail.

She shifted in her sleep, but didn't seem to wake. Nate smiled. This made his job a hell of a lot easier. Best to just come out with it now.

"I…love you, Elena. I hope you heard that 'cause I'm never saying it again. At least…I'm never saying it again unless you're asleep."

Heaving a breath of relief, Nate settled down next to Elena and pulled her up against him. Closing his eyes, he finally felt as though he could get to sleep.

He felt at peace.

"I love you, Elena," he breathed again just before he fell fast asleep.

Next to him, Elena opened one eye and grinned.