Uncharted: A Thief's Legacy

Chapter XIX - Satisfied

Sam knocked on the front door of the flat and a very tired looking Charlie answered it. It was nearly six AM the next day, and Charlie took one look at Sam, already sleep-deprived and now jetlagged, and said,

"I'll get the coffee on. Looks like we both need some."

"That would be wonderful," Sam said, stifling a yawn. He hadn't slept at all in at least twenty-four hours, the plane ride over had been devoted to planning and he would've been unable to sleep even if he'd tried. Now he was fighting a pounding headache and he swayed slightly where he stood.

Charlie opened the door a bit wider and stepped back to allow him in. Sam dropped his bag just inside the door and beelined for the kitchen table, where he slumped down into a chair.

"You'd better rest up a bit before we have to pull this thing off," Charlie said, his eyes staying locked on Sam as he walked over to his coffee maker.

"I don't think I'm gonna be able to sleep until it's done," Sam mumbled. He'd set his face in his hands and closed his eyes.

"Fair 'nough," Charlie said, "But you'd better not miss your mark all 'cause you're too tired to see o' somethin'."

"I'll be fine," Sam snapped, dropping his hands and sitting up straighter.

"You sure?" Charlie asked. "It's not too late to back out."

"I said I'm fine," Sam replied even louder. He huffed in annoyance.

"I jus' want you to be real sure this is what you want. You think this'll satisfy you?"

"It's worth a shot," Sam said dryly. Charlie glanced back at him, an eyebrow raised, but he shrugged and let the subject go.

The floorboards creaked behind Sam and he spun around in his chair. His eyes hardened and his shoulders tensed. He felt the hair on the back of his neck stand up, and for a second he was like a vicious dog ready to strike.

"You." He slid out of his chair and stood, slow and calculated. Elijah shrank back away from Sam's menacing frame.

"Hey, Sam." Sam had been frozen where he stood for a moment, but now, at the sound of Eli's voice, he strode forward. The kid's voice from that day, just a whisper in his ear, still rang loud and clear in his memory and hearing it again triggered something in him. He grabbed fistfuls of the front of Eli's shirt and shoved him several steps back into the wall behind him.

"If Charlie weren't here, I'd strangle you where you stand," Sam said, his teeth gritted and his voice barely above a whisper.

"Lucky me," was Eli's only response.

"You slimy little weasel. I'm not joking here. You took my little brother from me. I swear to God, as soon as this is over, you're dead." Sam stood inches from Eli, pressing him into the wall and almost lifting him off his feet.