uncharted_fics | Uncharted 2: Won't Let Her Go (Reply)

Title: Won't Let Her Go
Prompt: None
Summary: She's dying and all he can do is make false promises.
Author: emtardis (LJ) / Tarshearma (FF.net) (Same person)
Rating: G
Word Count:1,781
Chapters: 1
Character(s): Nathan, Elena, Chloe
Pairing(s): NatexElena, minor ChloexNate
Spoilers/Warnings: Set in Uncharted 2: Among Thieves. Scene tag for the end of the game, between when Nate and the girls climb out of Shambhala and when they're back in the village.

Won't Let Her Go

The anger swells in my guts, and I won't feel these slices and cuts

I want so much to open your eyes, 'cause I need you to look into mine

Tell me that you'll open your eyes

- Snow Patrol, Open Your Eyes

He can't remember the last time he ran so fast up a flight of stairs with a girl in his arms. He's done it before, many, many times, but never were those times so important as right now. This time, the girl isn't giggling and he isn't interested in more than nice conversation. This time, there isn't a comfortable bed, a bottle of wine, and a door to lock waiting for them at the top of these stairs. This time the girl is dying in his arms.

His legs are burning when he reaches the top, his body aching and sore from his own wounds. He can't carry her any further; he'll collapse if he tries, and that would mean dropping her, killing her. He's killed a lot of people in his life, mostly men, a few women. This is one life he doesn't want on his consciousness because her blood is already on his hands. It's his fault she's dying now; he didn't move faster, didn't protect her, didn't make her stay where she would be safe. He knows she wouldn't have listened to him, he knows if she'd complied she would have just counted to ten and followed him anyway. He knows her too well. Regardless, it's still his fault, and no one could convince him otherwise.

He sets her down on the fallen and broken column. It was warm before, down in Shambhala; now it's just cold. He could almost laugh at the irony of it. She's dying and now he has her in the freezing cold, lying almost in the snow. There isn't anything else he can do right now, and he knows it. He has to give his body a break, just a small one, because he has to save her.

"Oh no," he hears Chloe all but whisper as Elena's head rolls limply to the side. Her eyes are closed. She hasn't made a sound since they picked her up. He can't remember if she even moved after he'd taken her in his arms.

"Elena?" he says, taking hold of her hand and kneeling beside her. He places his other hand on her shoulder, forgetting about how badly she's hurt because he just wants to touch her, dammit. "Oh, God, no."

He holds her hand, gripping it. He can feel her fingers trying to make a grip, but it's so weak it's barely there. He looks up at Chloe, looking for a sign of hope from her, but all he sees is the truth. He's losing her, he's losing her and he knows it.

"Elena, hold on, alright? Just hold on," he says, looking back at her. He shakes her slightly, her grip on his hand so faint. She's tough, he knows she is; if any woman could survive a grenade so close to them like that, it would be her just so she could yell at him later for letting it happen. He wants her to yell at him, because if she yells, it means she's alive. He swallows, holding tightly to her hand. Maybe if he doesn't let go, he can keep her somehow.

"You're gonna be okay, alright, you're gonna be fine, you're gonna be just fine."

He's rubbing her shoulder, looking at her face, her neck, her body. He's not trying to reassure her anymore; he's trying to reassure himself. She's dying and all he can do is make false promises. He's been with a lot of women over the years, and some were more special than others. He writes their names down in his journal, the special ones, the ones he really cared about, the ones he might even say he loved. Elena, she was a different story altogether. She was different in a way he couldn't quite name. She was more than just a name in his journal; she was a name and a picture and, God, he would say he loves her. No might, no if, and no past tense. She broke his heart, but he never quite got it back. Now, now it's breaking all over again.

"Elena, don't do this!" He's begging her now, hoping she can still hear him. Don't leave me again, he's asking. It was hard letting her go once, but this time is different, so much more different. Before, they went their separate ways, promising to 'just be friends'. He could be 'just friends' again if it meant she wasn't dead.

"Elena!"

Her grip on his hand is gone. He shakes her again, calling her name.

"Nate," he hears Chloe say.

"Don't," he growls back before she can finish. "Just…just don't, Chloe." He places his head upon her chest, listening for her heart. He holds his breath, waiting, listening and lets out a sobbing laugh when he hears it. It's slow, but it's there. "She's still alive," he says, looking up at Chloe. "She's still here. We can get her back to the village; they can help her."

"It's too far," Chloe states, and he knows she's right. Elena's lost too much blood; her body is too broken and filled with shrapnel. She's alive now, here, on the mountaintop, but…she won't be when they get her back. Even with one of the trucks, it's too far.

"We have to try," he says, still holding her hand, using his other to wipe at his eyes. He doesn't cry.

"Nathan, listen to me, we-."

"We have to try!" he yells, shutting her down. Chloe closes her mouth and takes a step back, startled, perhaps even afraid. He can see she's fighting to hold back her own tears, not tears for Elena, but for him.

"She's not going to make it," Chloe repeats, trying to help, trying to make him see reality. All he can do is sit there until she's gone, hold her hand until he's carrying her body back. God; what's he going to tell her mother?

He looks down at her, tears falling slowly and silently. He's fighting to keep from breaking down. If he breaks, then he knows she's gone because then he's given up hope, given up on her. Then, he sees it, even so slightly, a blue shine on his arm. At first, it doesn't register in his brain, but then he remembers in a flash. The resin was the secret, and when Lazarevic ate it, his scar had healed. His eyes open wide and he could kick himself for being so stupid.

"The resin," he cries and let's go of Elena's hand. He's ruffling through his pockets, trying to find some, any, even the smallest piece.

"What about it," Chloe asks.

"The resin, it can save her."

"Are you mad? Don't you remember what it did to those…those things?"

"I only need a little," he challenges. "Lazarevic's scar healed when he ate it. If I can find some…. It'll buy us the time she needs."

"Now you're just desperate," Chloe shoots back.

"I'm not going to lose her!" He's on his feet now, hands clenched into fists. They hold each others gaze for a moment. "Either help me find some, or stand there and shut up," he growls and she swallows. She's never seen him like this, not for any reason. Her eyes dart down to the woman on the column. For a moment, she's jealous and angry. She'd had him first; she'd had him so many times well before this slip of a thing. Then she remembers how he'd acted when they'd run into Elena and the cameraman, how he spoke to her, how he protected her, how he just looked at her. Now she watched as he fumbled over himself, swearing, looking for the life-saving resin.

"Look under your shoes," she says.

He does, yanking them off and standing in the snow, not caring about the cold. There's none on the first one and as he looks the second over, he begins to lose hope. Just as he's about the throw the second shoe away, as far and as hard as he can, he sees it, a glint in the sun. He kneels down beside Elena, carefully peeling the resin from his shoe. Chloe is on the other side, holding Elena's head up and mouth open.

It's a small piece, barely the size of the nail on his pinky. It has to work, he thinks, and prays to whoever and whatever might be listening that might feel so inclined to grant him this one, small favor. It's in her mouth and, together, they make her swallow it. He drops his shoe and grabs hold of her hands, gripping them tightly. They wait, with baited breath, watching for a sign, for anything. When too many seconds pass by, he starts to panic and places his head on her chest again, his heart pounding in fear. This time he can't hear anything.

"No," he whispers, holding her hands and shaking his head. "No, you can't. Elena, you can't die, not here, not now."

She doesn't move and Chloe can only watch, helpless, as he bows his head against Elena's hip and cries, his hands refusing to let go of hers. Chloe cries as well, cries silently for him. She can only imagine the pain he's feeling.

"Nate," Chloe says suddenly, but it isn't soft and consoling, it's loud and urgent.

He looks up and Chloe points to Elena's face. The cuts and bruises are gone, healed over. He looks at her arms, the smaller wounds completely healed, the bigger ones still there, but smaller. He lets out a sound twisted between a laugh and a sob, and then a few more.
"Mmnnmmn," Elena groans, her face screwing up in pain. He places his hand on her cheek and she stills, turning into his palm. He smiles, still laughing, still crying.

"Nate," Chloe says, and he looks up. She's holding his shoes out to him. "Come on; we need to get her down the mountain before it wears off."

"Yeah," he says, nodding, reluctantly letting go of Elena's hands to pull his shoes back on. Chloe leads the way as he carries Elena securely in his arms.

Sully is waiting for them. How the man had found them, he doesn't know and he doesn't care. Instead, he climbs in the back with Elena in his arms and tells his friend to gun it. He's going to get her to the village, make sure she's safe and warm. As Sully drives them down the mountain to the village, he shields Elena from the cold wind, holding her tightly.

"I told you, you would be ok," he whispers in her ear and, for a moment, he thinks he sees her smirk.

End