Alright, here I am with another tired old Atlantis story, just like so many others- oh wait! Bad jollyjack! Gotta sell the show, gotta sell the show! No, but I will do my best to not make this cliche- I have a few twists to throw in that I hope will keep it interesting. This story is set between UC2: AT and UC3:DD. So without further ado- Uncharted: On the Shoulders of Giants! (cue Nate's theme...)

"If I have seen further than others, it is by standing on the shoulders of giants."

-Sir Isaac Newton

The punch connected with a solid thwack, the report of bare knuckles colliding with rigid cheekbone with the intent to leave a mark. Nate recoiled, rolling with the punch as much as possible without losing his stance on the narrow I-beam on which he and his opponent were currently perched, toward the top of the industrial jungle gym of rust-streaked tin, pipes, and concrete. While his aggressor paused, also striving to maintain balance, Nate reached up and gingerly touched his eye. Yep. That was gonna leave a shiner.

"Well," he panted, his voice a little higher than intended, "how 'bout we call this one a tie, huh? If you're happy, I'm happy."

The burly thug launched at him again, driving his fist toward Nate's midsection. Nate caught the blow with both hands, absorbing most of the force that would have otherwise gone directly into his stomach. Holding the man at arm's length, Nate brought his knee up sharply, catching him under the chin while releasing his grip on the man's hands. The thug staggered back, arms flailing and a look of panic on his face. The panic was well justified, as any fall from here would mean going directly into a hopper which fed a set of grinding wheels that clanged noisily twelve feet below them. Regaining his composure, the man smirked at him. "Let's finish this, Drake."

Nate gave a wobbly smile. "Eh- let's not and say we did." As the thug rushed him, Nate jumped off the I-beam and grabbed a pipe, which shook and rattled under his weight. The thug lunged at empty airspace, caught by surprise, and lost his balance on the metal beam, falling off with a cry. Nate was thankful he was unable to witness the goon falling, as his back was turned while he hung from the pipe, but he still squeezed his eyes shut and grimaced at the man's scream and the sound of him bouncing off the side of the hopper. A moment later, the grinding wheels made a strange sound, and Nate tried not to picture what was happening. Shaking his head grimly to clear his thoughts, Nate began swinging his legs, building up momentum. "Hup!" letting go at the apex of his swing, he launched out and grabbed another pipe which ran vertically up the side of the nearest building- or shack, whichever seemed the more appropriate title. His breath exploded as he crashed into the side of the building and his feet slipped down the tin siding until he was dangling like a rag doll above the rushing river below. Grunting, Nate worked his feet back up the wall and pushed himself out from the building, then began climbing hand over hand up the pipe.

"How...do I ever...get myself INTO these...situations?" he muttered through gritted teeth. On the heels of that sentiment came the dreaded next thought. He knew how he got here. It was him trying to be a hero, sticking his neck out like usual. Heh, he was bound to get it chopped off one of these times, he just never knew it would come at such a great price.

I was only trying to help, just trying to keep people safe, he mentally groaned. Why do I always have to pay for trying to help?

But there was no turning back now. No, he had crossed that threshold a while ago. His friends needed him- heck, the WORLD needed him. As Chloe would say right now, he always found himself trying to "play the bloody hero." Pulling himself up over the edge of the rusty tin roof, Nate paused to catch his breath. "Alright. Which way from here?" he asked himself. As he stood, hands on his hips, and scanned the perimeter of the industrial compound for any signs of Sully and the gang, he felt the hair on the back of his neck begin to stand, and he suddenly felt like there was some threat coming up behind him. Frowning, he tried to shake the feeling off, but his better judgement told him to trust his instincts. Finally he gave in and turned. "Oh, crap-"

The hook of a crane slammed into him with great force, knocking him off the roof. Nate plummeted and hit the water less than gracefully, the impact of the surface tension compounding the effects of the blow he had just received. The swirling water that churned all around him seemed darker than he would have expected, but maybe it was just that he had gotten a concussion and his vision was blacking out. Yeah, that was probably it, given how numb the rest of his body felt. Nate stretched out arms made of lead as he tried to paddle to the surface, but in the punch-drunken fog that had settled over him, he couldn't tell which way was up. The one thing he did know was that there was an increasing roar all around him, which he knew exactly what to attribute to. Shit. The waterfall. There was a waterfall. With even more desperation he tried to claw his way to the surface, but for all he could tell he might have been doing underwater somersaults, what with the rapids and all. His heart was beating in his ears, and, against the brain fog and with ever increasing panic, he fought what he knew was a losing battle against the current. As the roar became deafening, his final coherent thoughts went to Elena. God, if only it didn't have to end like-

And then his thoughts were swallowed by the thunder of crashing water as he reached the precipice of the falls and was swept over the edge.

Elena watched as the sun crept up over the horizon, casting pools of golden light across Mount Parnassus and the ruins of Delphi. Bathed in the warm glow, the three pillars of the Tholos stood like sentinels, ever keeping their silent vigil over the sacred precinct. Elena smiled, relishing the enchanting view before her. It was one of the few things she considered to be a genuine perk about her husband's line of work.

She glanced over at Nathan, prowling around through the stacks of cut stones like a lion seeking its quarry. His finely tuned eyes swept over every square inch as he methodically worked his way down the row of stones and away from her. Dressed simply in a long-sleeve t-shirt, a backpack, and jeans (Elena had managed to convince him to leave his shoulder holsters behind), he almost could have passed for one of the thousands of tourists that were sure to sweep through the site of the fabled Oracle later that day.

With a sigh, she lifted the disposable cup to her lips and took a sip of her latte. It had been obtained from a small coffee shop that they found- blessedly open- in the hours before dawn in the town of the ruin's namesake on their way in and was helping to ward off the drowsiness that lingered from the early morning. She savored the taste as it slid down her throat and leaned back, resting her other hand on the rock she was sitting on. Turning to her husband, she called out softly. "Gorgeous."

Nate looked up at her with a wry smile. "Yes, beautiful?"

She giggled. "Not you. The sunrise."

Feigning a put-off look, Nate turned to face the way she was looking. "Eh. I've seen better," he shrugged.

Rolling her eyes, Elena responded dryly, "I'm sure you have. But, it's some small consolation for having to wake up at such an ungodly hour."

"Well, gotta beat the tourists, ya know?" Nate replied cheerfully. "Can't be out here trying to poke around while everyone and their brother is ogling the place." He continued his slow march down the row.

She let a pause hang for a moment as she watched the ever changing colors of the dawn, then called back, "So what is this thing supposed to be again?"

"The key to Atlantis!" Nate announced with an air of ceremony despite not looking up. "You know, arguably the most legendary lost city, rumored to have contained massive amounts of wealth, all ripe for the taking."

"... assuming we find the door for said key," Elena finished for him, shooting him a meaningful look even though he was far too engrossed in his work to notice. "A key's not much good without a door."

"And, a door's not much good without a key," Nate rebutted, climbing over one of the stacks of rocks to the next row up. "Baby steps, 'Lena, baby steps." He stopped suddenly, resting his hand against a half-fallen fluted column, and then dropped to his knees on the scrubby grass. "This is it," he said, reaching out to touch one of the stones in the low wall in front of him.

Her interest finally piqued, Elena stood and hurried over to him. "How do you know?" she asked, kneeling down beside him.

Nate slung his backpack down from his shoulder and unzipped the main pocket. "See this?" He pointed to a small indentation on the stone's smooth face. Elena had to lean in and look closely, but eventually realized that the indentation was actually a carved design that resembled a star, though it was quite eroded and indistinct from spending ages in the elements. She nodded. Reaching into his backpack, Nate pulled out his journal and a small pickaxe. Laying the tool on the ground, he flipped the little leather book open to a page he had marked. "It's the Argead star," he said, pointing to a sketch he had done that resembled the image on the rock. "A solar symbol used in ancient Greece. My contact pointed to this symbol marking the hiding spot of the key."

"Amazing," Elena murmured, setting her coffee on the ground and resting her hands on her blue jean clad knees.

Nate slipped the journal into his pocket and began to chip at the mortar surrounding the stone with the pickaxe, while Elena let out a steady string of horrified but stifled grunts while covering her mouth with her hand. After a minute or so of listening to her mild protests, Nate turned and gave her a miffed look. "Can I help you?" he asked.

"It's just-" Elena began, gesturing to the pick in his hand. "I mean- you do know this is a UNESCO world heritage site, right?"

Nate looked at her like she had just sprouted another head, then gave the smallest of shrugs. "What's more world heritage than Atlantis?" he asked blandly. "Besides," he continued, going back to his work, "we'll slip this rock back in when we're done, and no one will ever be the wiser. It'll be just like all the other crumbling stone walls around." As if to prove his point, the rest of the mortar around the stone chipped out with apparent ease, falling in brittle chunks on the dew-soaked ground. Soon the stone was loose, and Nate grasped the edges of it and began to pull it back gingerly, as if opening an ancient tomb. Elena found herself holding her breath as the rock slipped out with a soft grating sound and was hefted aside by Nate.

Behind it was a small, square niche, about three feet tall by two feet wide, and inside stood a statue of a bearded man hunched over and holding a curious looking spherical device on his broad shoulders. Nate and Elena let out a simultaneous gasp, both of them staring in silence at the figure inside. "Atlas," Elena half stated, half questioned.

"That's right," Nate said, his smile returning.

"But why?" Elena asked. "I thought Atlantis was Poseidon's gig."

"It is. Was." Nate said, stooping and poking his head into the hole. "However, according to Plato, the king of Atlantis was named Atlas, though that Atlas was the son of Poseidon, or in some accounts Uranus. But the mythological titan certainly has ties to the island; the name itself means 'Atlas' island'. Even if he wasn't the king of Atlantis, it seems the king was named after him for some good reason."

"Hmmm," Elena hummed. The deliciously still, cool morning was causing her to wax romantic in spite of herself. "So Atlas may have carried a legend as well as the world," she said with a faraway smile.

Nate, now with his entire body scrunched up inside the niche, gave a muffled reply. "Well, technically, it wasn't the world."

"Hmm?"

"Yeah," Nate continued. "Ayn Rand aside, his job was actually to hold up the sky. He was condemned to it after participating in the uprising of the titans. Isn't that right little buddy?" His last words were addressed to the statue itself, in front of which he now crouched, hands poised to reach out and take the device from his shoulders. "You won't be missing this, I assume." He reached out and took hold of the device, which consisted of two thick bronze rings intersecting at right angles to each other, one inside the other, with a few, more delicate, meridian lines crossing them here and there. He carefully lifted it off the hapless titan's shoulders, marveling at it as its weight came into his hands. Before crawling back out of the niche, he turned his eyes to the statue of Atlas, taking in the titan's strained expression, his wide eyes and slightly parted lips, expressing a silent agony over carrying out his eternal punishment. Nate frowned and turned away.

"That doesn't look much like a key," Elena said after he crawled out and they both stood up. "Looks more like a spherical astrolabe."

"I think it is," Nate said, turning it over as he examined it. He shrugged and placed it carefully in the backpack.

Elena nodded slowly. "Riiight... So how's it supposed to work as a key?"

Nate sucked in a sharp breath of air as he slung a backpack strap over one shoulder, the cogs of his mind quickly formulating an answer, as he was never one to be beat at his own game. Arriving at what he felt was a sufficiently witty comeback, he smiled slyly and said, "I guess we'll know when we find the door. A key's not much good without a door."

Elena did not miss the reversal of her own words back on her, and she shook her head with a scoff. "That's not really funny," she said, despite the small smile on her face.

"It's kinda funny," Nate said, flopping his arm around her shoulders and steering her towards the rental car parked nearby. As the two meandered along, Nate asked, "What do you say we celebrate back at the hotel?"

Elena turned and fixed her hazel eyes on Nate's blue ones. "I'll drink to that," she said with a smile.