- Chapter Two -

Mundane Beginnings

Fountains of veined marble in the shape of bare-breasted angels wept tears of molten gold in his dreams.

Disembodied and without age, the one-time smoker felt his lungs constrict then deflate when he recognized his surroundings to be the emptied halls of Saint Francis' Boy's Home. Only instead of grainy wooden floors that creaked underfoot at the most inopportune junctures, the entire ground was a single roll of cherry champagne carpet. The ceiling was canvased with cobwebs and the doorways had all melted into the walls. Half strolling and half gliding, he could tell in a single glance that the windows were different from the next and all bore a striking resemblance to every impromptu exit he'd ever made. The distant yellow pinpricks of searchlights could be seen outside.

Glacial and just as degrading as he had been, there was maddened laughter in the air. There was no doubt in his mind to whom the laugh belonged, yet there was something preventing the adventurer from so much as thinking the name.

Traversing the short space between the open classroom door and the trio of nephilim that stood where vulture-like Sister Helene had perched during every lesson, he reached out for the smooth stone. Before he could so much as curl his hand to cup the petrified curves, a soft sound like leaves in the wind ruffled his hair and swam across the topmost layer of his skin. Blue but lacking discernible form, the singsong disturbance was only enough to give him pause - the brunette had to touch the statue. He had to. The stonework was too beguiling to be ignored.

As expected the siren was cool to the touch, however something like a pulse rippled beneath the milky heather epidermis. Gleaming just before he had made contact, the surface of the mineral composite cracked beneath his fingertips and turned to ash in places. Once teeming with gold that was plentiful enough to flow down the three tiers and over the basin, the tears of the angels became like blood and stained his palms a sickly crimson.

Taken aback by this sudden and unexpected turn of events, the man felt himself falling backwards in slow motion; sapphire, jade, and amethyst, the morose seraphs watched passively as he was caught in a strong pair of arms. Pale as death with a self-satisfied smirk on his gaunt mug, his former partner whispered something backwards against the shell of his ear and let Sam fall.

Plummeting through a swirl of arctic powder on crumbling masonry and black satin in the dark, the grizzled brunette found himself in bed. For a split second, there was some confusion as to which bed he had found himself in; ritzy as the room was, there were still a handful of options. The simple linens were reminiscent of the threadbare wisps frequently found in prison, but these were much softer. Were the colors not at such odds with what was remembered, he might have thought they belonged to someone he'd been intimately acquainted with during his two year sojourn in Scotland.

Squinting through heavy lids at the late afternoon sunlight filtering through pregnant storm clouds waiting to burst and thinned further by the blinds, Sam Drake closed his eyes in an effort to expunge the dream from his mind. He hadn't thought of that asshole in years, not even the fleeting few good times they'd shared. Given the newfound circumstances, Rafe finding his way back into Samuel's mind made sense. Not that remembering that prick was ever a pleasant experience under any situation.

Urgh, fingers fumbling across the empty mattress to the nightstand, he reached clumsily for a package that was no longer there and groaned to himself. Right, both he and Victor were going cold turkey.

For the last two months he'd been profoundly proud of himself for that fact, but at that moment he would have killed for a smoke. Between rude neighbors, half-forgotten segments of time that didn't mean enough to even attempt to remember, unexpected guests, and now nightmares of someone that was better left forgotten, he'd say that anyone would have deserved a break.

"Maybe my little brother had the right idea..." Sighing forlornly and perking up only a hair at the thought of the strong espresso he could be enjoying in a few short moments, the man knew that he couldn't linger in bed forever.

Picking himself up, the raider of truth and treasure moved to the living room to check on the girl. Well, after his additive of choice had been stirred into the glass mug - something told him this was going to be one of those days. In the back of his mind, he was wary of how easily the girl had been able to track him; taking the loaded gun he kept under the bed, Sam refused to be taken unawares. Scanning the room through the barrel of his pistol, he had relaxed and set the automatic on the counter next to the coffee machine when he saw that the room was clear.

If there truly was some sort of conspiracy and the heiress was in danger, either the antagonistic party were biding their time or else they were complete novices. Could have been both, yet... Sam couldn't shake the feeling that something was off about the entire scenario. Reviewing the facts in his head, the later option would have been preferable, but he seemed to inherit his little brother's knack for ending up on the other side of fortune's favor. Praying that thinking as much didn't jinx the situation, he hoped that there was only some rookie gunning for his client.

Client. The word had a funny taste when they hadn't expressly discussed the minutiae of the financial arrangement.

Theoretically speaking, the girl's mother had promised a sufficient amount of money if he protected her from bad individuals unknown, but if the kid was right and the worst had befallen the woman, there was no guarantee that he'd see a dime. Judging her from the previous night to be a pushover, collecting would have been a breeze, however that all could have been shock. Or an act. The heiress genuinely read as a non-threat, but he knew better than to just take anything at face value.

Naturally her father was one of the many reasons why.

"Oh Samuel," slight figure shoving off the back wall of the crooked alleyway, the icy-eyed multi-billionaire slid into focus just enough for Sam to see a sideways smirk on the other man's face, "is this really how you inspire trust in your partner?" More than slightly buzzed, the words rang in the brunette's head with an echo.

Brushing the rubble off of the taller man's shoulders - a task made easier by the fact that he was hunched over the trash can of a neighboring establishment - Rafe shifted his eyes around the rest of the alley. Back door of the bar swinging wide to reveal a kitchen boy on his way to add to the already overflowing dumpster, an unfortunate dappled cat with a squashed-in face bolted between the young man's legs. The bartender stumbled slightly but caught himself at the last moment, wary that he was being watched. From the way he had glowered at the tipsy thief as he worked, it was apparent that there was a reason Samuel was hanging out next to a gutter sporting the beginnings of a black eye. The would-be glory seeker could only guess as to what had happened.

Scarce better than strangers still, Rafe didn't know Sam well enough to question where the other brother was or why. Regardless there was just something about that one that didn't didn't sit right with the up-and-coming adventurer, so his presence wasn't missed. But Samuel...

"I suppose this means I'm just the lucky one who gets to find you three sheets to the wind." Speaking to the drunk in a concise tone, it was clear that he was only half-surprised at the state he found the elder Drake in.

After the meeting of minds earlier that day, Rafe had spent the better part of the afternoon doing research on the kind of men he was about to get into bed with. Despite what the duo may have thought of him after their previous encounter, he was willing to still give them the benefit of the doubt. Assuming that they pulled their weight and did their part, once the they had collected Avery's long-lost treasure it would be exciting to see what they would accomplish together next. The youngest of the trio had big plans for the Drake brothers. Or at least half of them.

Wavering in place as he attempted to coalesce the two men standing before him, Sam was only just realizing that this was Rafe saying that he would get them into the prison. Standing up just a little bit straighter for the illusion that he was in a place to discuss the arrangements, there was no hiding the unprofessional grin that spread across his face at the news. "Thaaz great! Nate'll besoo happy when he hears!"

Pondering if this was his new partner finding the courage to tell his brother that he failed to make the deal, or if they were out celebrating prematurely, Rafe set his musings aside and extended his hand. "Come on then."

"Rodger, dodger." Fumbling along the wall, the lanky thief waved back over his shoulder at the kitchen boy. Saying adiós to the kid as well as to the bustling establishment, he shouted something along the lines of the waitress finding him if she got bored with the barkeeper. At least that's what Rafe thought had happened, but it was already difficult for him to keep up with the language without the drunken slur. Whatever his partner had said, it didn't go over very well.

Half sprinting as he assisted the slightly taller brunette down the dusty avenue and to the car parked on the opposite side of the local watering hole, the businessman looked back over at his companion once more before opening the door. If it had come down to a fight, due to the automatic tucked neatly at his back Rafe wasn't concerned with losing. No, sometimes it was just more fun to feel the wind at your back as you kept one step ahead of danger.

Moonlight highlighting their silhouettes, as they stood in front of the limousine Sam needed to only look at Rafe to know that he was getting in over his head. Or at least he would have known then, were he not pissed as a newt and thinking of hitting the next cantina with his new drinking buddy.

Harmless as a fly, Rafe had simply returned the so-called expert's easy smile as they slid into the backseat.

"Kid's still out, huh?" Observing the slumbering youth from the back of the couch, he spoke to no one in particular. Speaking of addressing the empty room, the ex-con wondered to himself how the girl would expect him to hail her royal majesty. Would she accept whichever, or would she be one of those that was overly anal about title and name? By looks he would guess the later, but there were much bigger matters at play than him scorning her for her family ties and upbringing.

His payment, being one.

Diamonds of zero value spilling down the corner of her eyes as she slept, the adventurer wasn't even the little bit taken aback to find the heiress in such a sorry state when he went to check on his uninvited guest. Gaze lingering a moment longer, he realized that watching her was too much like watching his little brother after their mother left them. All these several decades later, and it still put a lump in the back of his throat to think about. Forget trying to talk about it.

Distantly familiar with what it was to lose the one parent that gave a damn, the ex-con turned a blind eye to the "mess" the girl had made. Like one might suspect, he was unfazed by an extra pile of clutter in his living space, however the scant proof of the kid's presence scattering the area caught his attention. Littering in the loosest terms, she had half-heartedly folded her wet clothes and placed them over the low glass surface. But it wasn't the fact that at some point in the day she'd stripped and discarded the damp fabric over the furniture for the poor maid to clean - what had caught Sam's eye were the pair of heels abandoned between the armrest and the coffee table.

Just looking at the sable heels with all their straps recalled ghost pangs of similar stilettos being forced into various parts of his own body. And once square in his face, but that was a whole other breed of story. Still painful though, he thought as he rubbed his temple.

Feeling as if forgetting the past was the brunt of what he had to look forward to today, Sam noticed that the remote had fallen to the patterned carpet. Picking the glossy rectangle up, he opted to follow his morning routine as if nothing had changed and flicked on the news. Already on the proper station, the current story was fittingly some contrived quick-fix for breakfast on-the-go. As a matter of fact, it was the very kind of segment that his sister-in-law would have mocked despite lending a hand to some old buddy with a deadline and no steam. When thinking of the blonde his brother had married, he liked to imagine that she had more pride than to write for the laughingstock of the news world.

Either way, an idea was beginning to take shape. From where the brunette sat, he figured that even on the off-chance that darling daughter Adler knew how to work a microwave, the loss of her mother would be too fresh to be bothered. Despite assuming that girls nowadays (like through all of modern history) never touched food, Sam was positive that it would still do her some good to eat something. And he had just the thing...

"You sure you know what you're doing?" Nathan asked his older sibling uncertainly as they scavenged through the orphanage pantry for cooking oil. That hadn't the first time he'd asked that question that night, nor would it be the last.

Inquisitive as he had been at his brother getting him up halfway through the night, the boy was still tired. For starters spending all afternoon in detention for a fight he finished was far from conductive to a restorative rest. More vexing still was having to wake up extra early to finish the previous two weeks worth of lessons in Latin. The Latin part was a cinch for both brothers by this point, but the deadline was a hair too fine to even hope to get half the work done. Father Duffy would have been lenient and allowed an additional day at the least, but Sister Catherine seemed to have it out for the Morgan boys in particular.

Never too shy to share, Sam had some choice names for the nun. However that night was too important to be bothered by her like, so he'd taken extra care to not speak out of turn more than he could help. She was initially suspicious when he finished the last few lessons without incident (and on time), but he'd made a convincing act of it.

Conspiring secretly for the better part of a month - Sam had even gone so far as to keep tabs on the comings and goings of the cafeteria - the preteen reasoned that a reward was in order. Nathan had come to accept their lot in life with more grace and speed than any kid should have to. And since no one else was going to celebrate the two overcoming the hurdles of the past couple of years, it was his responsibility to celebrate his little brother's birthday.

Originally the plan had been to surprise his little brother with the cake, but despite his best efforts to hide it, Sam could see that Nathan could use the together time. The elder Drake had done everything he could to look out for his younger sibling, however he knew at the same time that he couldn't mother hen over the boy all the time. With the five year age difference, having different classes was both handy and sometimes a pain in that endeavor.

Holding tight to a bottle of Castor oil, the older boy feigned as if he'd been mortally wounded by his brother's words. Only half conscious of what the vile concoction he held was, Samuel clutched the vial to his breast when he gasped, "Et tu, Nathan?" When Nathan rolled his eyes at the display, Sam frowned and sombered up a few degrees. "Tough crowd. Well I'll have you know that it genuinely hurts that you don't believe in your big brother."

"I believe that you're going to get us in trouble." Nate mumbled under his breath as they resumed their venture. Sam had always possessed a flair for the dramatic, but that was part of what made him an irreplaceable assistant for the burgeoning magician. That is, when he wasn't bent double in laughter...

Tousling his brother's hair affectionately, Sam chuckled at the little punk. "How can we possibly get caught when I have Nate the Great helping me out?"

Memory a funny thing, sometimes when he walked the mountain pass of nostalgia, the one-time human chimney would snarkily add in a drop to none other than Houdini himself. Other times when reflecting back on the scene, the lankier of the brothers would just leave it there. However that verbal exchange ended, the one thing that remained the same was the outcome.

Transitioning from ancient history to the re-telling of a classic fairy tale, Sleeping Beauty had been roused by the scent of scrambled eggs and instant oatmeal. Wafting through early evening air already fragranced by the rain, the smell was so welcoming that it was almost easy to forget that the pair had slept beyond the ten hour mark. What wasn't quite as easy to acknowledge was that the past twenty-four hours had truly happened.

Greeting the man not with thanks or even some small hint of recognition when he set the steaming bowl next to her things, the girl peered up at him from beneath the now-starchy towel in confusion. Strictly speaking, the fog was so thick that her countenance was emptier than a blank slate with a raised brow. Contradictory perhaps, he was already back tending to his own meal when comprehension dawned on the young woman.

Everything rushing back in a jumbled tidal wave, her face fell as if her unwitting host had just admitted to poisoning the food. As badly as she'd wanted it all to be nothing more than a bad dream, it would have been kinder if he had. Mama.

Suffocating in the abyss, everything looked as if the edges were beginning to dim to monochrome. It hurt everywhere; even pausing to consider getting up from the couch was too much to bear. Her stomach growled to motivate her to eat the oatmeal and eggs being presented, but she only stared at the normal American (perhaps elsewhere, she wasn't quite that traveled) breakfast. Maybe if there was a side shot of some toxin being offered...

Wolfing down his own grub directly from the skillet, when he wasn't burning his tongue on the amber scramble, Sam noted that she hadn't so much as attempted to rejoin reality. Not even so much as a wiggle from her big toe. It was like reliving those first several months with his brother all over again.

"Yoonothayurenogootaanyonifyostarffyurseftadeth." Stuffing his face with the fluffy yellow decadence before it got cold, he had to swallow and try again so that she would understand. "You know that you're no good to anyone if you starve yourself to death, right?" He shouldn't have scarfed all that food - it was already starting to give him heartburn. He'd like to say that this was a learning experience for him, but it was only a matter of time before history repeated itself.

"..."

Ice surrounded her heart and each breath cut at her lungs, however there was nothing left in the world. Not her unfinished astronomy project, not the fact that the last thing she'd eaten were a couple of peaches after school, not the cutie from economics asking for her help on an assignment. Not even Jay asking her to help out after class was enough to phase her. The upcoming vacation to Italy, the yearly sojourns to King's Bay, tryouts for the surf team, the smell of sugar on plain oatmeal, nothing was real nor held any weight. Completely at the stranger's mercy, anything could have transpired and it wouldn't have changed a thing. Something should have stuck, should have helped her to find the path back from the brink, but there was only darkness at her feet.

Flitting across her face for just a moment when he posed the question, the former inmate could tell that there was something like guilt buried below the surface. But it was so deep down, so hidden away that he doubted she was even aware of the almost display of emotion.

Nathan hadn't made it easy either, but somehow he'd found a way to get his brother to carry on when things were at their bleakest (by the untested standards of children). Now that he was an adult with so much more experience to draw from, trying to help the heiress was like smacking his head against a brick wall. It was transparent that no matter what he said the girl would only continue to stare out into the void and refuse to move.

This was going to be fun...

On one hand he could always guilt her into doing it for herself, or on the other he could force-feed her. But what could he possibly say to the kid that would get her to respond to the situation? Both Rafe and Bai would have taken the former course of action, though if they were there to do so now there really wouldn't have been much of a problem. Knowing the both of them as intimately as he did, the liberator of fine artifacts knew that it wouldn't have been as simple as a stern lecture with her parents. But he wasn't bound by any such label.

"Little girl," wiping his mouth with the back of his hand after pounding out a belch, the only mildly penitent thief removed himself from the kitchenette to march back to the sitting room, "I will make you eat this if I have to-"

Knock, knock, knock.

Half expecting her royal highness to be traveling with a following parade of outrageously sized matched luggage to meet her every whim, it occurred to him that this could just be a butler. A really, really tardy butler. Peeking around at the girl for a hint that she was expecting someone, when none were forthcoming the slightly paranoid ex-con pulled out yet another hidden piece. Say what you would, but Sam was really against being taken unawares. Again.

"What's that?" Throat cracking like a thunderstorm in the desert, the teen leaned forward just enough to peek at the front door. Whatever might have been going on in her head, there was enough of a brain present to figure out what this could mean. Terrified that this might have spelled out her demise, the final page in her short life, it struck the young woman that she wasn't ready to meet her ancestors. Not yet.

But living was still too much to ask.

Exponentially more surprised to see the gun than she ought to have been, Daniella cast an edgewise glance at the space between the generic off-set coffee table and the sofa. In her minds eye she could picture herself cowering after finding the drive to spring from her numb stupor; all it would take to make her vision come true would be a kind of rolling flop off the couch. Maybe some additional hugging of the carpet to keep her head beneath the lip of the cushions. All in all, safety was obtainable.

Key word being was.

Perhaps she would always lack the skill it took to be Olympian material, but she was far from useless - trained in several athletic styles from fencing to swimming, the teen enjoyed less rich kid clichés such as surfing, rock climbing, and kayaking. Mama wanted her daughter to be rounded as a person, and whenever Daniella tried to quit, all it she had to hear from her mother was that it was what her father would have wanted.

True or not, it had been sufficient motivation to keep her practicing. In her head, she knew that she had to tap into that same level of determination to do what had to be done, however her heart wasn't capable of getting with the program. Not at the present. Witnessing whatever it was that happened to Mama, the girl should have been ready to flee at a moments notice if need be, yet she just didn't have it in her.

Knock, knock, knock. Whoever was on the other side wasn't going to just go away.

Armed in the same fashion as last night when the golden ticket had been shivering outside his room, the many-faceted expert opened the sturdy wooden portal the smallest possible fraction that he could. Rooted firmly in place for another knock, a male figure in a dark coat stood alone in the hallway. Once Drake had opened the door, the unarmed stranger drew back his hood and shook out the sprinkling of rain that had accumulated beneath the dusty chocolate brim. Green eyes full of life, dirty blonde hair shaved on one side and styled in a man bun, the tattooed surfer-bum looked like he had washed up on the wrong coast.

"Hello?" Peering around the door at Sam, the man appeared to be nearing his late thirties, granted appearances could be deceptive. Were it not for the obvious discrepancies and the cargo shorts, the man could have passed for his double.