Smoke rose slowly, drifting in odd patterns – it danced near to the ground and roared up into the sky. Beams of light from the Mediterranean sun punched through the smoke. The crisp flaps of scorching flames, and the low growl of burning metal overwhelmed Drake's areas. His eyes, unable to withstand the smoke, became watery, with tears streaming down his eyes.

He coughed. His head discombobulated and his mind an incomprehensible puddle of various, unrelated facts and memories, Drake tried to look around him and make sense of the ambient chaos. Elena. A shock sprung through his core, spreading to his limbs. He jerked his head up, and searched drunkenly with his eyes for her. He couldn't make anything out of the smokey, fiery blackness until–

"Nate." The voice was weak, pained, a single white cloud in a thunderstorm of agony. He could hear the angst.

"Elena, Elena, I'm here, I'm here," Drake replied, confused, dazed. He scrambled with his limbs, trying to find the source. His fingers could feel the ash, the smoke, the hot melted metal, the crushed glass, spoiled electronics – skin. He looked down and saw a white hand.

There was a mass of jumbled metal covering her body. Drake pushed and heaved as hard as he could, and the metal slowly moved away. "Elena, Elena, baby, I'm here, I'm here," he said. Elena was bloody and static, her hair still as golden and perfect as ever, but her face was pale, her eyes lacked their usual vigor and drive. She groaned.

He picked her up. She was exhausted and hurting. Her stomach had incurred a flesh wound. He stood up, with Elena in his arms, and was about to make his way out of the crushed cockpit, when–

"Drake! Duck!"

Bullets whizzed past Drake's body, smashing into the debris. The pangs of the bullets were deafening. Drake turned around and saw Sully, his leg dark red from the blood, shooting with a handgun through the smashed windshield. Drake could make out armed men and jeeps coming toward them.

"Shit, shit, shit!" Drake ran towards Sully, pulled his collar, and yelled, "Come on! We've got to get out of here!"

"Let me kill those sons of bitches!" Sully protested, but Drake would have none of it. They ran out, dashing through the plane's wreckage. Bullets flew by them.

"Where the hell do we go?" Sully shouted. "Where's the girl?"

"I got her, there's some buildings up ahead, we'll go there!"

Drake and Sully ran as fast as they could, but there heavily armed pursuers were gaining ground. They came across a small one-room empty school-house. They darted in, and Sully bolted the door. Drake laid Elena down on the large desk at the head of the room.

"Sully, give me your gun," he said. He grabbed as many magazines Sully still had and went over to the window and assessed the situation. The men had stopped running, but they were walking briskly and alertly. There was only one jeep and about fifteen men – the rest of the militia had probably decided to hang back. Drake, enraged and desiring retribution, was going to engage.

He slammed a magazine into the pistol and cocked the gun. This was going to be fun.

He barged out the door and opened fire. The men had their backs turned to him, and were unaware of the source of the shooting for the first few seconds.

"Drake, wait!" Sully cried. "You're gonna get yourself killed!"

But Drake, for the first time, knew what he was doing. His first few shots shot straight into the fuselage of the jeep, lighting the vehicle up in a ball of flames. The explosion sent some of the mercenaries flying. Drake jumped to the side and took cover behind a small brick wall when the men finally returned fire. He noticed a confused straggler separated from the group – he lurched forward, grabbed his neck, and neutralized him.

Drake resourcefully picked up the fallen soldier's assault rifle and opened fire, shooting continuously for thirty seconds. He hit and killed at least six enemy soldiers.

"Run back! Run back!" the armed soldiers screamed. Many of their comrades were bloodied and dead, and the five or six remaining men quite wisely decided to run.

"Yeah! Screw you!" Drake screamed ecstatically. His daring – so bold that it was stupid – plan worked. He had driven them off.

But there was something missing. Then a flame exploded in his brain.

Elena.

She was going to die.

And here he was, shooting bad guys like an idiot.

His heart sunk. He ran back, everything was a blur, he needed Elena, he needed her so badly...

Tears – not from smoke – streamed down his cheeks.

He was a grown man, but the unbreakable bonds of love had turned him into a boy.