Twenty-four years earlier, Sam Drake stood on a porch with a cigarette, taking in the night air. Nate had just gone to sleep, but not before making a headache of himself. To be fair, his little brother was right; at age sixteen he shouldn't have to worry about when he went to bed. Especially not when he didn't have to be up for school or a job in the morning. Sam had responded with the tried-and-true threat that maybe he should take him to Catholic Mass in the morning if he had nothing better to do. Nate didn't like it, but he liked the idea of sitting through a sermon even less, so he eventually caved.

Maybe it wasn't the right thing to do- it certainly wasn't fair- but Sam needed a moment to himself to process everything that was happening to him right now; some time alone where he didn't have to be a good brother and put on a brave face. Nate would eventually forgive him.

The front door to the house opened and Sam only had a split-second to throw his cigarette over the railing before Victor Sullivan stepped outside to join him. Perfect. That was just what he needed.

"Sam," Sully nodded at him in acknowledgement. "How you holding up?"

"Fine," Sam answered curtly. "Did you come out here to make sure I didn't ditch you?"

"Nope, the thought never crossed my mind," Sully answered easily. "We may not exactly be close, but I know you better than that, at least. I just wanted to see if you had a light." He fished one of the ever-present cigars out of his pocket and looked at Sam expectantly.

Sam crossed his arms defensively across his chest. "What makes you think I would?"

Sully smirked at that. "Here's a tip: a smoker can smell a fellow smoker a mile away. You might have the kid fooled, but not me. I knew the moment you had picked up that habit at the restaurant- and three seconds of me being out here is not long enough for the smell to dissipate. So, light?" He held his hand out.

Sam narrowed his eyes. When Victor didn't budge, he sighed. "You get more breaks at work if you smoke, and I was tired of being the only hard worker and the one who worked longest."

"I'm not gonna yell at you, kid. You're turning twenty-one in a few months. You've been old enough to smoke for a couple years now, and even if you weren't I wouldn't judge. You don't have to hide it."

"Don't call me 'kid'. My brother might like that, I don't." Sam reluctantly reached in his pocket for his lighter and his pack. He lit up a second cigarette for himself before handing the lighter over. "Nate doesn't know yet, that's the only reason I'm hiding it. I don't care what you think."

"Of course not." Sully nodded in thanks and lit his cigar. "He's going to find out eventually, you know. He's a sharp one."

"Yeah, I know," Sam agreed, "But that can wait 'til he's a little older and can make decisions for himself. I don't need him copying every dumb thing I do."

"Ah," Sully handed the lighter back. "Is that why you're always bitching at me to put my cigars out around you?"

Sam snorted and pocketed the lighter again. "If he does pick up the habit, I'm going to make you eat one of those cigars," he said seriously. "After I kill him."

Sully smiled at that. No one could accuse Sam of not looking out for the kid, that was for sure. "I don't doubt it. Other people have tried to make me eat one before, you know, but you might actually have what it takes."

"Don't be patronizing," Sam scowled. "Just because you do me a favor doesn't mean we're friends."

Sully held his hands up placatingly. "I'm just out here enjoying a cigar. Calm down." Then he gestured towards Sam's left eye, which was surrounded in a purple-black bruise. "Want to tell me about that?"

"This?" Sam conscientiously touched the area around his black eye. "It's nothing. A pan fell on me at work."

"Nothing," Sully repeated. "Right. And it just happened to appear on the same day that you got fired- sorry, 'quit' your job." He took a puff from his cigar. "What was the reason again? The manager was an asshole?"

Sam felt his face flush red, from a mixture of embarrassment and anger. "That's none of your business."

"It kinda is," Sully said. "Because now you can't afford your apartment so you and your brother are staying with me, and I want to know if I've got a goddamn loose cannon under my roof."

Sam looked away from Victor, trying to keep his temper in check. It was like the old man was trying to piss him off. He inhaled some smoke and held his breath, forcing himself to calm down. When he could trust himself to speak again, he said, "Don't worry, as soon as I find a new job we'll get a different place to live. You won't have to worry about us for too long."

"I'm not worried," Sully said, then shook his head and continued quietly. "But if you're in trouble, maybe I can help. Whatever it is, I won't tell your brother. He can keep thinking you left that job on your own terms."

The gentleness in Victor's voice caught Sam off guard. He never liked talking to anyone about personal things; they were better off bottled away and forgotten. He especially didn't want to talk with the old man about anything. He was certain Victor couldn't be trusted. At best, he would start making fun of him. At worst, he would be disgusted and kick Sam and Nate out.

Still, whether it was due to the smoke, the night air, or his exhaustion, there was a small part of him that wanted to talk about it. He took a deep drag from his cigarette, then, against his better judgement, cleared his throat. "Some of the guys in the kitchen were talking about this kid who committed suicide, it was in the news yesterday. They were making jokes."

"And?" Sully scoffed. "It's sad when things like that happen, but you'll always find assholes around getting their goddamn kicks off it. That's no reason to get into a fight."

Sam shook his head. "You don't understand. I… I just don't like it when people make fun of that, ok?"

Sully eyed him, then awkwardly spoke, "You're not starting to think about-"

"No," Sam said quickly, and laughed a little despite himself. "With Nathan to look after? I can't afford those kinds of thoughts."

Sully nodded. "Good. Well, then why let it get to you like that?"

Sam stayed quiet, inhaling smoke fast enough that he almost burned through the cigarette already. Sully was just beginning to think that he wasn't going to get an answer when Sam spoke up in a wavery voice that he'd never heard before.

"Our mom… After dad left, she got real sick," he explained. "She wasn't in her right mind, didn't know what she was doing…" He closed his eyes. "I really can't talk about it."

Shit. Shit. Goddamn it. Sully had no experience with any of this. Sam was right, it wasn't his business and he should have kept his goddamned mouth shut.

There was only one solution that came readily to mind. "Hey, I know it's a few months too early, but how about I break out a six pack? It's a nice night outside, perfect weather for it."

Sam wiped his arm across his eyes and leveled Victor with a look. "I've been drinking for years. You know that, right?" His voice was steady again, full of obvious relief at the subject change.

Sully was relived too. "Of course. But this is my house, and you aren't touching any of my alcohol without my say-so, even after your birthday." He opened the front door to the house to step inside.

"Is that how it's going to be? Rules? I knew there was a catch." Sam followed after him. "You aren't the type to let two strangers stay with you for free."

"Free?" Sully scoffed. "No way. I'm gonna back-charge you for rent as soon as you get a new job." He was being facetious, but Sam might also feel better about the whole deal if he didn't think he'd use this as leverage later on.

"Rent?" Sam repeated. "How much is that going to cost me?"

Sully opened his refrigerator to get the beer out, then paused as he thought. "Two hundred a month?" That seemed more than fair. It was less than half what they paid for the old apartment- as far as he figured, anyway. He didn't know the exact amount.

"Two hundred? We don't even have beds," Sam gestured towards the living room. "I have to share a couch with that blanket-stealing thief. One-fifty."

Sully had to grin. Tough negotiator, a man after his own heart. "Alright, one-fifty," he agreed, "And I'll take another twenty-five off if you cook every once in a while and help to keep the place clean." He popped open two bottles and offered one to the young adult.

Sam took it and nodded. "Deal."

After talking with Rafe, Sully opened the door to the kitchen and stepped inside. Sam was sitting at the table with a cigarette and a few beers in front of him. Some things never change.

"I expect Rafe will be gone for a while," Sully commented as he pulled a chair out and sat down. Then he eyed Sam carefully. "How you holding up?"

"I'm fine," Sam answered, then sighed and rubbed a hand over his eyes. "Fine enough, anyway. Don't worry, I won't kill him."

"Right," Sully nodded slowly. "I didn't ask if you were going to kill him or not."

Sam rolled his eyes. "I've had plenty of time to work through it, Victor. It doesn't get me like it used to, not even coming from him. He just caught me by surprise, that's all."

"If you say so." Sully reached over to grab one of the bottles that was in front of Sam, popped it open, and took a sip. Then he took a deep breath. "I've got something to say, and I don't think you'll like it."

"Alright," Sam eyed him and nodded. "Go ahead. Can't be the worst thing I hear today."

"Between the pan and his comment, I really don't want the two of you to be alone in a room together," Sully said. "At least for a week, maybe longer depending on what else happens. I don't even want you unlocking his room in the morning anymore. Leave that to me." He'd just have to try to wake up early enough to keep Rafe from complaining.

Sam was quiet for a moment, then took a drag from his cigarette. "I hate to say it, but that's probably the right call," he admitted. "I don't know how much more I can take while keeping my temper in check." Though, to be honest, he didn't think it would do Rafe much harm if he snapped just once. Then the brat might learn not to push it.

"Thank you," Sully nodded, then smirked. "Now you know how I feel most of the time."

"You've never had someone that didn't like you," Sam scoffed. "And even if you did, no one knew anything they could hold against you like that."

"You didn't like me," Sully pointed out, then mused. "You never met Harry Flynn, did you? If you think Rafe's a challenge, you would have broken Flynn's nose the first time you met him."

"If he hated you then he couldn't have been that bad," Sam smirked. "Of course, Nathan wouldn't have approved."

"No, Nate was pretty good friends with him," Sully said, then added drily, "And I think Flynn liked him a bit too much." Then he cleared his throat. "On a completely different subject, something caught my curiosity. Rafe says he got pretty close to you and your brother when you were in Panama. I only met him in transit, and I can't say I got that impression. Nate didn't like him, at least."

Sam shrugged. That was probably more one-sided than mutual. "You could say that. He was just a kid at the time, remember? Not a real threat. I think he only liked us because we were so different from the stuffy people he was used to being around. That, and it was all wrapped around an adventure. Rose-colored glasses, you know how it goes." It actually helped a little to remember Rafe as the little pipsqueak he was all that time ago. Well, maybe pipsqueak was the wrong word; even back then he had the dangerous businessman thing going on. He was definitely still naïve, though, and a lot more open than he was now.

Sully nodded. "Was he always this much of a health nut? How did he even survive prison?"

"Mh." Sam shrugged. "I don't know, I certainly never saw this side of him before. When we were in Panama he didn't act like this, but then again he didn't have much of a choice. He wasn't going to get prime steak or sterile conditions in the prison cell. Before that we were in nice hotels or at his mansion, where he didn't have to worry about it. Maybe he can just turn that part of him off to do what he has to." They'd already seen him hide behind his mask plenty of times, under much less extreme circumstances. It wasn't a stretch. "Or, who knows? Maybe at that point he was just getting back at his parents for making him live a pristine life so far, and by now he's over it."

"Knowing him, that makes sense," Sully agreed. "But you still were with him for two years after he got you out of prison."

"Even when he bailed me out we were still spending a lot of time around his place and his staff until he brought me to Scotland," Sam explained, "Conditions weren't exactly terrible there. He still had some of his staff among Shoreline so we weren't just living off MRE's. Nadine thought it was a waste, I thought he was just spoiled. As for the part when you and Nate jumped in… At that point, he was so obsessed with finding the cross, I think he would have been willing to jump into a sewer if he had to."

"So you had no idea when we started all of this that he was going to be like that?" Sully asked. "It would have been nice to know ahead of time."

"If I did, don't you think I would have warned you?"

Sully didn't have any time to respond. The kitchen door opened and Rafe walked in, not even bothering to hide the pain when he walked.

Rafe eyed the beer and cigarettes but, surprisingly, didn't even comment. Instead, he walked right to the bookshelf in the living room and stared at the contents. "You know, life would be so much easier if we had internet," he called out, scanning the titles of the books in front of him. "How am I supposed to look up something if I need information?"

Sully glanced at Sam, then cleared his throat and straightened up. "Well, what do you want to look up? There's an encyclopedia set on the bottom."

Rafe looked down. "Those are only introductory articles, though, aren't they?" He'd never had to rely on them before and wasn't even sure if he had picked one up in his life. "Nothing in depth."

"Are you writing a research paper now?" Sam asked, brow raised.

Rafe ignored him and grabbed the volume that covered the subjects between 'TAN' and 'TUT' and began flipping through it.

"If you want me to get you a book on whatever's caught your interest, I can," Sully said, then added pointedly. "If you want a favor, that is."

Rafe glanced at him, shook his head, and looked back at the book.

"So you're not going to tell me what this is about?"

"I'm not," Rafe confirmed.

"Right." That was a little concerning.

Rafe found the page he needed and read silently for a little while, then abruptly turned to Sully. "I want my own section of the island."

Sully blinked. "Come again?"

"Just like I have my own room, I want a part of the island that's mine. Somewhere you and Samuel can't come unless I allow it. I need a place to get away for a bit that isn't surrounded by walls."

"That's a pretty tall order kid," Sully sipped from his beer and considered it. "I could agree to that- not half the island, of course, but a reasonable space that you can mark off as your own. You'll just have to promise me that you won't abuse the privilege and use it to avoid 'talks', or chores, or anything else like that. If we need you for anything and come calling at the border, I expect you to come out or one of us will come looking for you."

"Yeah, yeah," Rafe waved a hand dismissively. "I can agree to those terms."

"…And, of course, there's the condition I gave you earlier."

Rafe paused, then he set the book down, straightened up, and turned fully towards Sam. Without batting an eye, he said, "I apologize for my earlier statement. Regardless of how much I dislike you personally, I should not have brought your mother into it. I would appreciate it if we could put this behind us."

Sam was too stunned to say anything other than, "Yeah… Ok."

Rafe turned expectantly towards Sully.

After that, how could he say no? Sully shrugged. "Alright, then. We'll have to figure out a way that you can mark an area off."

"Get some trail markers." Rafe tucked the book under his arm and walked off towards his room. He paused at the hallway and glanced back at the bottles on the table. "Are we recycling those?"

"We haven't been, no," Sully answered. "Why?"

"Start," Rafe said simply. "And don't be throwing your cigarette butts around, either. I don't want my part of the island full of trash." With that, he disappeared, and a few minutes later they heard his door shut.

Sam looked at Sully. "You can't tell me that he isn't up to something now."