- Chapter Ninety-Eight -

Those That Sup Upon My Flesh

Knuckles going bone white as she clutched the grainy edge of the synthetically aged bench, the heiress thrust her umber crown between chiffon-draped knees. Everything racing - everything, everything - she practiced the breathing techniques that Chloe had taught her. Who'd have thought they would still come in handy to this day?

Brain conjuring the picture of a single flower slowly spinning upon a pedestal, it sincerely felt as if her stomach was doing somersaults in the most grandiose way possible. Heart thrumming at least as fast as the wings on a hummingbird, the woman didn't need a mirror to guess that the color had drained from her face, leaving only a husk behind. Despite forcing two or three long breaths, the world kept on spinning on its tilted axis.

Mildly surprised that her palms weren't sweating on top of all that, no matter how hard she tried, Daniella couldn't fully shake the scene from some twenty years ago...

"Where's Daddy?"

Small hands grasped helplessly for the ledge of an empty box lined in fine satin that shimmered porcelain and pearl (not unlike the pretty nickel-plating of his colt). Centered atop a golden taffeta pillow depicting the family crest, a framed photograph that just barely captured his likeness gleamed in the low lights, the corner wilted against the glass, sealed in place by a widow's tears. Countless black masses circled the display with disinterest and snobbish courtesy as if just being there were enough charity for one year. Though some of the vultures gliding along the ground did pause long enough to spare the child a second glance. Too young, they must have said to themselves, seeing as most were gone as quickly as they had come.

"Where's my daddy?"

At the time it was inconceivable that she would have to lose someone she loved more than her own life, yet it would be far from the last time that her entire understanding of the universe would change.

"Where's Sam?"

Midnight had seemed like a dream, the hours spent in the midst of the carnage the fault of no one person... or so it was tempting to believe. Weak and terrified from an extended period of capture, the woman in the middle of the bloodbath held on to the blonde woman with a strength that was simultaneously supernatural and frail. Blame burned through every last cry that escaped her mouth, yet somehow the love shone even brighter, cutting through the gloom like a light.

"Where's Sam?" Repeating the question didn't change the facts.

Sappy as the notion sounded on paper, the moment that little girl came into the world was one of the moments that had stuck with the heiress, that had helped shape her into the woman she was today. As much good as that did anyone now... Contents of her intestines curdling, Dells shook away the beginnings of a story that wasn't hers to tell and instead focused on her own predicament.

Vision straining to absorb every last detail of grain, melded iron, and her own nylon-protected legs, her nose quivered hungrily at the heady aroma of cooking meat permeating the air. Somewhere nearby - although she couldn't quite place where - there were some prime cuts of steak sizzling on an open grill. Slathered in herbal seasoning with just a dash of sauce, doused in a fine pinch of lemon with rings of breaded onion crisps on the side. Probably from the family reunion down the way, but for all anyone knew it could have been coming from the mortuary up the street.

Chops salivating and gut groaning in answer to a joke that was in poor taste, the woman was starving - breakfast had seemed days ago, and this extended weekend in particular had left her feeling famished. Dinner had been a crowded affair, her plate overflowing with dishes that were more protein and fat than lean and salty; the main course on the menu had been a roasted chicken so big that it covered the thin bed of salad dressing the plate. Dessert a colorful line-up of Italian ices, everyone had eaten so much before the flavored scoops were carted out that Cassie had been the only other one that had even attempted to enjoy the treat. Daniella certainly hadn't held herself back from eating her fill, and she had paid the price that night... Then she was back at it the next morning, eggs and bacon and toast piled on top of two small ham omelets, everything dripping over the proceeding layers as if she hadn't learned a lesson at all.

I can't help it if nothing wants to stay down...

Fingers tightening on the curved wooden lip for support, rather than dwell on lunch (or the indecisive wishy-washy feeling that she was going to lose it), it was probably better to use this moment to breathe. Clear and absolutely sublime for the lungs, the air hit like a one-two punch, filling all the way to the base of her belly when she inhaled. Pollutants down from what they had been even two years ago, the sky was clean and a brilliant shade of indigo, that perfect time between late noon and early evening. Everything is so peaceful here.

And then he came...

"Hey." Charm given flesh and blood to better understand the foolish little mortals that the gods played with like disposable dolls, there was something about that voice. Something daring, something that undid years of hard work in an instant, something that made her want to be just the tiniest bit naughty.

One game being to act like a total rando at the local pub while the other did their thing, the thief thought it prudent to take a leaf from that playbook and press the reset button on this whole day. Ideally the elder Drake brother would like to pretend that the last few hours hadn't happened, as he was still emphatically bitter at the notion that his prized pupil was keeping secrets from her sensei. Key word being 'like to', putting on airs and acting like he wasn't phased was a task easier said than done. Although, the resent crept in with tendrils perfect for seeping, it's not like we haven't been down that road before.

Voice soft and very come-hither, the visibly aged adventurer quickly skimmed the line of empty benches on either side of the peeling patio walls, pleased to find that they were quite alone. Not that a thing like a spouse was enough to stop him, Sam still took the precaution to search for that unfortunate sap, the moron smart enough to lock-down such a babe but dumb enough to trust her. "Where's the old ball-and-chain?" Commenting not on the naked skin where a ring ought to have been, but rather to the body-length chain cushioned between two padded pillows (complete with frill), the man's gaze lingered at the sable edge. "There's no way someone like you came here alone."

Doped up on grief and misdirection and whatever else was going on in that thick skull of hers, the heiress swayed to the piper's song as if she truly believed that he sounded sincere, the knots in her stomach wound so tightly that she was blind to the red thread he plied.

"I wonder..." Chest folded inward, her bosom heaved as if she were having difficult time breathing freely, speech coming out slow and labored, as if each effort were being carefully managed. Positively out-of-sorts, Dells seemed all of an inch or so from fainting. Concern the sole factor keeping him from complete detachment, the fox that had nicked all the silver watched somewhat less than passively as his golden goose closed her eyes, concentrating as if she were forcing herself to change position before her body was ready.

Reminded of the nigh infinite amount of late-night binges, a taxing Monday morning locked in mommy's wine cellar, two fun nights practicing keg-stands and beer pong, as well as all the parties a five-year calendar could support, they had discovered the medicine to all worldly woe. It was only a temporary state, and not much of a fix at all, yet the bottle had been a close friend. Still, with all of those experiences to draw from, this was different, and frankly the big brother in him wanted to strongly suggest that she stay down for as long as she felt necessary, but that didn't usually go over well. The price of pride could be a real bitch sometimes.

"..."

Pupils unfocused as they roamed aimlessly across the floaty fabric of her weightless granite slip, Dells was somehow still capable of delivering a puncturing jab, her tone snotty and peppered by a touch of posh, "It's been a while. So I suppose that means you have a few minutes to try and make your move."

Try? That was cute.

Bad blood lingering unspoken beneath their banter, the best way to diffuse the ugliness was with a little old-fashioned blood-letting; surveying the lay of the land for inspiration so that he didn't have to stick with the clichés by default, the first thing that caught the historian's attention was her dress. Sure there was nothing inherently wrong with the queenly smock, however if one were to spend more than a split-second examining the bigger picture, it became almost painfully clear that it was the one thing holding her overall appearance together.

Come to think of it, her fashion choices of late had all geared closer to the convenient mark, relying heavily on baggy tops that paired well with those clingy leggings that intentionally drew the eye to the derriere. Kinda a yoga-mom meets broke twenty-something moving into her first starter home vibe. Nothing was inherently wrong with that, as they were gathered there to bury someone that they had all loved dearly and without equal, so it wasn't as if any of them were going out of their way to doll themselves up. Although...

Last night Nathan had noticed it during dinner, and she wasn't even modeling something half so seemly. Between courses of differing German beers (and more age-appropriate beverages for Cassie), everyone else on the invite list was busy conversing about this and that, plans for summer, or really anything that danced around the reason why they were assembled. It was just too big, and at that point one of their party was still staunchly refusing to accept that it was all real. Meanwhile, while everyone else was going on about how empty a particular beach was going to be, Nate had privately commented that their patroness wasn't looking too good, although it had been posed as more of a question than a statement.

Vanilla and already forgotten, there had been nothing special about that particular outing that stood out. Not where she was concerned. At the very thought of them, Sam could just about taste the garlic-butter drenching the endless breadsticks that topped the conjoined table at regular intervals, however the same could not be said of the group's meal ticket. Were that she had been the lovingly folded slices of roast beef floating in the brown bowl of piping hot au jus (the promise of burgers not forgotten), the overrun ferns that had served as soft partitions, or even the gigantic overhead fans that left the raucous dinning hall overly cool, she might've left a mark. But no. Honestly the sly burglar couldn't have guessed what cut or color she had been wearing if someone had a gun pointed at his head, although the same could have been said of anyone. Again, it wasn't like anyone was there for some beauty contest.

"Make my move? Remind me what decade you were born in again?" Teasing the heiress with a chuckle that rumbled and crumbled even the hardest of resolves, as he found his groove, Sam took a bold step closer to the woman, just one single step. Thick gray brow arching in whimsy, the thief held off any attempt at an answer with a firm shake of the head. While he could have claimed that he wasn't even sure about joining his cute little protégé where she was seated, really it was just the moment all coming together on the fly. "You tryin' to imply something?"

Straight and narrow as ever, Adler brows 2.0 twitched in annoyance, which was most definitely a promising sign of her recovery. Tongue clicking loudly against the roof of her mouth, she scoffed at the space between the ground and her (in his own words) ruggedly handsome master, "You know what I mean."

Grin stretched wide and vibrant now that he was getting a little payback, the look on his face was that of the fifteen-year-old sophomore harassing the freshman that he had set his eye on during first-day orientation. Every square inch of that smirk equal parts victory and vindication, there was a remote possibility that there was a third variable at work behind the scenes... For what it was worth, Sam wasn't such a heartless bastard that he wasn't a little relieved to see that she was already beginning to bounce back some. Selfish, yes. The little voice in his ear sounded suspiciously like a certain someone, giddy and wild as she paid him more attention than the task at hand, and don't forget about smug.

Visibly revealing in his newfound position, Sam delighted in toying with his prey, "Do I?"

"Don't do that." In his professional opinion Dells sounded more concerned about the consequences rather than the implications, however, knowing her the way that he did, the woman probably thought she was issuing him a stern warning. If he had to guess, it would have been something along the lines of her not being in the mood for his games if this was what he wanted to play. Yeah, right.

Chiffon underskirt hiking up high enough to flash a little ankle, the breezy material rustled restlessly as Dells straightened up in her seat, the image of a proper lady... in theory. He knew better. She knew better. So what harm was there in pressing that big red button? "Do what?"

Huffy as an entitled brat throwing a tantrum, the gaunt hollows of her cheeks were tinted a comely shade of magenta even as she glared; no doubt maxing out the last reserves of her strength in some paltry last-ditch effort to make him sweat, he could already tell that it wasn't going to work. But bless her for trying? An under-stuffed carnival prize more imposing than what she was able to put forth, Daniella's card tower folded the instant her lip started to quiver, her silhouette trembling in a non-existent breeze. "That!" Somehow, yelling at him seemed to give her a much-needed boost. "You're trying to disarm me, so I'll just...!"

"Just what?" Despite doing it on purpose just to get a rise out of the heiress, this time there was a touch of sincerity behind the curiosity.

Whatever meager strength she had mustered for the harrowing dirty look had fled then, leaving the woman exposed and fragile. Too fragile. Keenly aware of her surroundings as she mulled over the possible variations in her head, it didn't escape the part-time explorer that there were only so many ways that sentence could have ended - in fact, if one peeled away all the polish, at the core level there seemed to be only one answer.

Fainting might have gotten her out of this jam, however going from Sleeping Beauty to the Boy That Cried Wolf was a tad overly dramatic, especially here at a place like this. Although, it wasn't an entirely unappealing alternative... Scared of the knock-back that came packaged with the diminishing options, while it would be a downright lie to deny that a part of her didn't dearly miss those early days, Daniella wasn't strictly sure that that was something she even wanted anymore. Physically it was all fair game, but emotionally... since then, the woman had learned a lot about herself, and frankly things were so much less complicated as they presently were.

Sole focus ideally being to just find the best way to get through this hazy, sobering ordeal side-by-side and at least relatively unscathed, the main goal had been to do whatever it took to keep her partner above water. Initially thinking that it would be as simple as reminding Sam of all the good times he had shared with his old man, reality was something of a slap to the face - it turned out that experiencing death from this angle was a whole different rodeo. Who could have guessed that dealing with a later-in-life surrogacy wasn't the same as a father-daughter duo torn asunder too soon?

Elena really was the best, proving herself once again to be the example to go by.

Both painful and cathartic to relive, once Dells was able to remove herself from the middle of the picture, she found that the answer truly was as simple as trying to be there, together. Being that warm shoulder even when he made an effort to shut her out, whispering light anecdotes whenever the need or opportunity was there, smiling even when things got bad. And they did. Maybe that was oversimplifying her role somewhat, but the important thing was that she was readily there for Sam whenever he might have need of her, how ever he needed it. The craziest part was that staying by his side had probably been the easiest thing she had done in the last three years.

Beneath the ugliness that bristled over something so incredibly stupid, at the end of the day, they were going to be there for one another, and this weekend proved it. Didn't it?

Less sure about that than she would have liked, the heiress wished that things were different. Maybe that they were back in Italy before the news broke, so she could just tell him before all the drama started.

Factually speaking, had Sam only picked up her phone before the call that had started this nightmare, they would be having a very different conversation right about now.

Ever since the news about Victor had dropped publicly, it seemed as if everyone and their mother were getting calls from across the map - especially from thirsty exes, looking for that shallow sympathy shag.

Guilty of entertaining one such caller herself, Dells had been receiving communication of a sensitive nature all weekend long. Steamy sexts that were more than a little suggestive, pics of an eagle with a mohawk, messages laying out explicit instructions for role-play... and she had been actively replying.

Usually in the wee hours after Sam had turned in for the night, the circumstantial insomniac would spend an extra hour or so twiddling her thumbs. At first it wasn't the kind of thing she felt like she needed to justify, but then there was a message claiming that 'on second thought, maybe we should give it a shot'. Not particularly romantic when the gesture was followed up with the address of a bar, the short-lived but intense spring fling had posited it as re-examining certain aspects of her life, including where they had left off. Dells knew she should have been happier about that, and yet...

Balcony adornments suddenly quite interesting, she rose from the maple-colored bench with a resounding creak, joints cracking and popping like the unfortunate carcass of that delicious roast chicken she had scarfed the previous night. Clomping across the plank-covered patio on two peg legs with hundred-pound weights fastened to each ankle, it was reassuring that the railing was there to catch her.

Dancing with the danger the same way she danced with Sam, the air was filled with a burst of summer sun and calming lavender. Finding it rather fitting in some way, the bulbs on the withering vine were off-brand cream and a very faint shade of purple that wished it was lilac.

Granted it was hardly the time or place, however that wasn't exactly a new thing for either of them. "You know, it's not what you think."

Solid and without a single cut-out to tease the mystery of what laid below, Sam found that it was much less appealing staring at her back when there was nothing on display. Bored of the lackluster view if nothing else, he opted to follow her lead on this one, joining Dells at her side. But in classic Sam fashion, it wasn't without snark, "And what is it I'm thinking, miss expert?"

Cue the obligatory eye-roll, the ice getting all shaken up in a lemon-lime fizz before being poured into a dazzling sapphire mug. "I never said anything about being an expert." Although, the heiress thought with a touch of pride, if there was anyone on this whole miserable rock that could make such an outlandish claim - apart from Nate, obviously - it's me. But is that really a good thing? Doubtful. "Hmm, if I have to answer your question... provided we were literally anywhere else right now, I'd put my money on you checking me out. Thinking you were so sly as you thought up the best possible way to get me out of this little number."

He couldn't help but to laugh when he realized that she was serious. "I mean, yeah."

Well passed that joking-not-joking boundary, the former brunette took Dells at her invitation to gander, dark islands alight as they relived the glory days to their heart's content. Except, as pretty as that all sounded, Sam really couldn't hide from the fact that she looked thinner than usual, her body filling out the dress in an unhealthy sort of way. Similarly noting that she actually wasn't looking all that grand beneath her make-up, the woman's eyes were red and puffy, as if she'd been bawling recently (he of all people would recognize the symptoms of that). Just barely made to look fuller by concealer or some other trick, her face looked narrow and sickly, like Daniella hadn't been sleeping again.

Once more, an area where the man had some experience.

Humored little secret smile tucked away safe someplace no one would ever dream to find it, Dells looked at him as if he were a completely lost cause; war no closer to being won, she sank down lower on the banister instead, almost to the point of being horizontal. "And I'm the liar?"

Allegedly meaning that as a unfunny joke, she averted her gaze to the fauna, pivoting on her heel. Fussing with the burdened leaves that wove all the way down the side of the wall like a rippling stream of emerald tears, the woman plucked off a slender twig and spun the twin blooms between her fingers as a distraction. Giving her just enough time to think up a recovery strategy, Sam stared out at the street below, watching the cars zip by on errands and pedestrians march from one end of the screen to the other. When that failed, he stole the plant from her.

Friendly one word for it and pragmatic another, he placed his hand over an innocuous square of sable cloth, lightly readying his little klutz for what was about to come. Not uttering so much as single word to one another, the thief stole the flower away without much consideration for whether or not she meant to keep it, pinching the crooked stem tight between his forefinger and thumb. Mauve petals flexing in unnatural ways as the historian crumpled the dainty bloom in transit, he paid more attention to supporting the unsteady cat burglar than the fall of some pretty little distraction.

"...It really isn't what you were thinking." Still leaning against him, if not for her tone it might might have been hard to take Dells seriously.

Desperate to have him believe her, it struck the brunette as unfair that Sam made it so difficult for her, that she gave him so much so freely while he was much more diligent about what he shared. Reiterating that previous point as if repetition might sway him, Dells could have smacked herself when something occurred to her: she still put too much stock into what this one person thought. Because of course I do...

So much for uncomplicated.

As Victor once said, 'In for a penny, in for a pound'.

"Just before you and Charlie showed up at the villa, I spent a whole half a day at the toilet." Far from the biggest clue that something had gone wrong, Daniella only wanted to paint the picture in broad strokes - obviously Sam was more than smart enough to get the bigger picture, she only wanted to cover her bases. "I thought I got better, but I guess that was probably the vodka speaking." Yeah, by all accounts the way she had been drinking was dumb and reckless. "Anyways, do you remember the day I took your bike? Well, the reason why was that I went to go see a doctor."

Hardly the first time that she had stolen his ride from him, Sam hadn't really given it all that much thought at the time, but he did remember Charlie talking at great length about a couple ideas he had for his landscape business. Some of them didn't sound half-bad, but lawn work really wasn't the thief's forte. As for the part where she had been at the 'doctors', that would be difficult to verify, seeing as their intimate collective typically had to find less traditional means of attaining medical assistance. Even under the best of circumstances when greasing palms with her money, it wasn't unheard of for one of their team to settle on 'professionals' in quotes.

A better man might have been able to forgive, however that wasn't Sam - dwelling a bit too much on the initial that he had caught lighting up her phone like the fourth of a certain summer month, the historian had hoped that it was as simple as her guy having an overly complicated surname that was way too long to bother writing down. "So, this doc have a name?"

"Brambillo, I think? I usually just call him Dr. B." It went without saying that the heiress had been in less than pristine condition when she had first met the former RN, her state at the time being a cross between trashed and drugged out of her gourd. If that was truly even his name. Really, it was a small miracle that nothing had happened, that she could find him again with relative ease.

Either way, that was not what Sam was hoping to hear.

Tone tinged ever so slightly with that noxious shade of viridian venom, he stated what he believed to be a technical fact, "I thought you two weren't on speaking terms anymore." Left with only a handful of options, it seemed fairly obvious who 'J' was. Scorn a contrasting hue of volcanic embers, the gushing of vitriol was entirely too real and just as unavoidable as the consequences of setting up home on a fault line. "Or was that a crock too?"

Most definitely an 'okay, ew' kind of moment, the heiress looked repulsed by the very idea that they would still be in communication. "Seriously? After everything that asshole pulled?" Sticking her tongue out in derision, the madman's daughter elected to pretend that her dearest ally and staunchest friend had not just seriously suggested that she was so unhinged. "I'm just gonna pretend you never said that. Honestly, what the hell man?!" Taking a second to collect herself, she irately shook out her dark curls, making the necklace rub against the unprotected skin. "I honestly didn't think he'd call, but I guess we should have expected that, all things considered."

"We?" Yeah, Sam failed to see how he was roped into that one.

Grand idea replacing logic, this was a perfect chance to demonstrate what had been learned, as well as escape from all this mounting unpleasantness! Or make it exponentially more awkward. Whichever.

Palm flat and extended just enough to catch herself against the vertical wall that was her mentor's chest, Dells wasn't as weak as he might've assumed, managing to stop herself from making full physical contact. Shy of breaking that invisible boundary between their two bodies, her finger quivered midair, lingering someplace over that gaudy ink that would have drove a lesser woman crazy. Memory the damnedest thing, the heiress slowly brought her gaze up to his, her lashes on full display.

Sweet and enticingly naïve as the teen that had basically been abandoned on his front step all those years ago, the thief knew precisely what his adorable young apprentice was aiming to do - how could he not, when he had been the one that taught her the routine? Simple as one, two, three, the little hypocrite that spoke against him disarming her was worming her way in his good graces, getting just close enough so that she could swipe his phone. Failing to see what the plot was from that point on, the good news was that he had done a good job... Not unlike a rubber band due to snap back at any second, it felt as if the deeper she stole into his pocket, the warmer it got around his collar.

Daring to admit to himself that he was allowing this sort of bad behavior, her being that close was stirring up something that hadn't exactly been buried, causing the back of his neck to heat up.

As was only courteous, Sam's phone had been turned to silent for the event; a quick check had showed a full log of missed calls and unread messages. Point all but proven in that instant, she scoffed, "See? Just because all these show up doesn't mean that I spoke with him." Irritation becoming much too taxing for her constitution, Daniella sighed, "You should be angry with me, but not for that."

Hardly shocked that he wasn't surprised by that claim, the thief waited for her explanation. It was almost too easy to hold on to the idea of her fucking with that asshole by choice rather than face what that could mean. Dammit Dells, I'm too tired to keep playing these games. Can't we just...

Just what? Be honest? Even now that notion was far more frightening than anything they had done out in the field.

Moment of truth at hand, she faced her reckoning with as much courage as she could muster in that moment. Eyes glittering sadly yet without tears, she looked more fragile than ever. "...I was in contact with an ex, but that was only you made it clear that we weren't... That we would be in our own rooms. She said all the stuff you'd expect to hear, made promises that sounded too good to be true. I never got back to her when she asked me to come see her after the wake."

Her? Perking up ever so slightly (and not in that stereotypical 'yay lesbian action' kind of way), he thought he might have known who it was that she was talking about. "So, it wasn't-?"

Rejecting that idea once and for all, her face scrunched in a way that could make lemons ask for notes. "Christ, no! Him calling was just bad luck. And..." Daniella chewed the inside of her lip, weighing if this was the point she wanted pivot the conversation to where it should have gone that day. "...I think it was also a really good excuse to get out of telling you..."

Worry replacing the breath of relief that had come from learning that she hadn't gotten tangled back in with that actual scoundrel, he noted how gray Dells seemed. Almost thinking of getting her something strong to brace herself, he wondered if water would be wiser than the contents of his pocket flask.

"...Sam, I'm sick. Really sick."

Somehow there was something behind her tone that kept him from retorting. Sarcasm was the best modern armor there was, though it wasn't without its flaws too. "Sick?"

Visited by the ghost of a woman that had only been mentioned a handful of times, Daniella shook her head, hating the thought of what her words might have put Sam through. "I was trying to tell you for a while, but the timing was always so wrong. First Charlie stopped by, then there was that whole thing with the gardener. He did find a new planter, if you're interested."

Yeah, the thief-turned-bodyguard-turned-thief wasn't remotely amused. Nor had he spared that needless conflict a second thought. Why should he, when the idiot had been at fault for getting the wrong flowers when Dells had specifically ordered the blue ones? The types and exact colors were all lost to the memory hole, however the countless days she had agonized over all those home-y magazines weren't. Frown the same one he had worn when informing the chump that he had made a mistake in planting all those little yellow mistakes, Sam narrowed his tropical island gaze.

Aware that she was doing it again, Daniella felt the news drying in the back of her parched throat. Water only going to be enough for a moment of relief, the heiress forced herself to admit the truth. Without tacking on a joke. "Or something else always kept getting in the way."

Namely herself, she almost said aloud as their eyes met.

Aching to comfort Sam with more than a hug but less than anything that would cross the line at the funeral of a father, the heiress settled on caressing the side of his face. Loathing her inability to give the man a straight answer even then, he did her a favor by snatching her wrist. Half afraid that he would reject her touch, Sam simply held her in place, his stare crushing her soul.

Held to a certain standard, the woman could only admit that there was no where left to run anymore - there was only the truth and the consequence. "I told myself countless times that I was going to do it, but then this happened. I was hoping that the doc would get back to me today." The lack of a prognosis was almost worse than actually hearing the words she most feared.

Catching them both by surprise, Sam embraced Daniella; not as a lover, but the way that a child holds their parent after waking from a nightmare. Forgoing the natural indent of her waist, the grizzled conman held daddy's little monster closer to the shoulder. Gripping her as tightly as one tried to hold the details of a dream or a handful of life-saving water in their hands, despite knowing that it inevitably had to end at some point, he couldn't imagine having to let go.

Silent as the stars that were just beginning to stir, blinking slowly to life above a city that wouldn't realize they were there at all, he didn't need to say a word for her to know that he wasn't ready for her to leave him too. Not for good.

Pressing her forehead flat into his chest, she pulled him meekly back to the benches. Weaving her fingers through his, they remained that way.

[How Much It Matters]

Everything moved quickly after the call from Wyatt.

Chole and Nadine had remained behind, which was fair enough given how close the former mercenary was to the situation. To the perpetrator. Ryan and his two goons had amended a working truce to bring their girl back - more of a 'the devil you know' sort of thing, therefore a problem for a later day. The boat had been prepped, and they were under a captain named Drea.

Drea seemed capable enough, doing everything but bless the sails to catch a breeze that didn't exist. Thankfully their ship wasn't the sort that was limited to skimming the area, that was well-maintained and supped up to the tits. Any other time, Sam might have looked forward to sharing a beer with the captain and swapping trade secrets.

Sullivan, speaking with Sam almost immediately after the transmission had ended, was tasked with getting himself to Libertalia. It probably would have been smart of them to all fly to Madagascar in a bid at arriving before the heiress and her captor, however, there was a decided lack of trust between parties (and not enough space for the return trip). Drake trusted Sully to be there for Dells.

Wiser than he liked to let on to his enemies, the old man agreed without hesitation. It went without saying at that point that Sam was someone he would do just about anything for, and the kid came to him with this personally. Sure, the girl's mom touching down on the island only to take back off had set off plenty of alarms, and frankly there was still some lingering misgivings about trusting the offspring of two known psychopaths, but Victor would do whatever he could. With one caveat.

Lack of a cigar making the old pilot's moustache look lonely, Sully studied Sam with great interest as he as asked his question. Matter of fact, that moment it took Sam to consider was the closest thing that came to a pause. Victor would lend a hand no matter what the man said, they both knew that: he just needed the older of the two brother to really think about why he was doing this. How far he was willing to go for the young woman.

Giving his answer with as much sincerity as a guy like him could muster, the grizzled adventurer didn't even notice the captain peering up from her maps to steal a glance at her cargo. Sense of urgency outweighing the fact that Drea was convincing enough to trick a drunk into believing that she could have been an older version of the heiress, the thief did catch Zanny pulling out his phone and Ludo lumbering behind to help Ryan aboard.

Ryan.

Still seeing red and tasting bile in the back of this throat when he thought about even humoring the little prick that was trying to take Dells away, Sam attempted not to get caught up on what the young woman was going to do once they saved her.

Ideally, it involved a very personal form of gratitude. Most likely - assuming that they all met back up in Libertalia - the sun-soaked damsel would also ask for a tour. A bit grim, showing the girl around the place where her father had died, although at the same time he couldn't pretend that he wasn't excited to revisit the historical site. Would everything be exactly how they left it, or would more of it have crumbled away? Surely a number of roads would be inaccessible, but they could make do, explore the parts that he had missed while trying to guide Rafe through the area.

First, they still needed to save the girl.

Author's Note:

Lots and lots of revision went into sculpting this one, but I can't say that it was anywhere near as bad previous chapters. Like I actually enjoyed some of these reformations? Hmm, maybe that makes the others sound bad? I dunno, for the first half of the drafting process it just felt different this time. And by half, I do mean that literally, as I could easily divide the writing process into a 'before' and an 'after', thanks entirely to Mortal Kombat getting that recent story update. Because I was always DEFINITELY going to put my time into that! Also, my computer was misbehaving (technicals are something that happen all-too-often on my end, though this was something new).

Hope everyone is safe and well :)

P.S.

All of that was written back... about a year ago...? Uncharted has circled back into my merry-go-round of interests, but it turned out that most of this chapter was scratched out before I stepped away. In short, no clue what was exactly going through my head or what I was going for. Yay? For what it's worth, I am trying not to think too much about that long-pondered rewrite (a whole different idea, same characters) in favor of actually finishing this first.

Oh, and for everyone's sake, this may or may not have events/facts that might be contradictory to small details that came before. Or it could jump a little more ahead then intended/implied. Hopefully that won't be too drastic though :)

I do hope everyone's as well as they can be!