Amihan (ə-'mi-hən) (![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png)
camalyng) wrote in ![[community profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/community.png)
greenstickered2014-02-06 05:56 pm
camalyng) wrote in greenstickered2014-02-06 05:56 pm
Uncharted/The Last of Us: A Whole 'Nother Game
Title: A Whole 'Nother Game
What: Uncharted into The Last of Us fanfiction - short story
Rating: PG13 (character death)
Words: ~770
Summary: What should have been an easy, everyday smuggling run for Nate, Elena, and Sully goes horribly wrong.
Notes: Inspired bywhatshisface's tags for ![[tumblr.com profile]](https://www.tumblr.com/favicon.ico)
edwardelrics's gifset of Nolan North talking about voicing David in The Last of Us.
Nate has his sleeves down when you catch up to him.
"It is freezing down here," he says, rubbing his arms. "Aren't you cold, Elena? I'd grab you a coat off one of these guys but they're probably crawling with spores."
"I don't think 'crawling' is the right word," you say dryly, but hey, at least he's thinking about it.
That's probably the biggest change in him since the outbreak: He thinks ahead a bit now, at least enough to poke around in old lockers without ignoring anything that looks like it's from this century. You know he'd rather be looking for treasure than scrap metal Sully can MacGyver together into gun improvements and five-year-old tins of food that might still be edible, but the world has changed and so must you.
(You think your biggest change is that you're getting tired. The government's the kind of corrupt that you would have been investigating five years ago, but between them and the Fireflies, you'd rather have the soldiers.)
You're definitely tired by the time you meet up with Sully and he and Nate swap backpacks. Dutifully, you check the contents of the bag you've received and tally them down in your notepad, but then Nate shakes his head when you pass the bag back.
"You bring it back," he says. "I've got some business to take care of."
"What 'business'?" you ask sharply, because this is the first time he's mentioned it.
"Just some guys to meet up with," Nate elaborates, the false note in his voice getting clearer. "I heard these guys might pay more for some of this stuff. They don't like dealing with women, though."
"Want me to come with you, kid?" offers Sully.
"No," Nate says quickly. "I can take care of myself."
You put the bag down and step up to him, putting steel into your gaze like you're interviewing a cagey politician back in the old world or dealing with a trumped up arms dealer here and now. "Nate, what's going on?"
"Nothing!"
"I don't know how you deal with soldiers when you're such a bad liar," you sigh. "Nate."
Nate sets his jaw, but quickly relents. Rather than say anything, he rolls up one sleeve the way he had this morning.
That bite on his wrist definitely wasn't there this morning.
You recoil. Sully draws his gun and racks the slide just as quickly, and Nate flinches.
"When?" you ask quietly.
"When we got split up because of that pillar," Nate says, not meeting your eyes. "Elena, I didn't want to leave you alone until we met up with Sully - he'll take care of you -"
"No," you murmur, shaking your head. "We're gonna figure this out, okay? I heard the Fireflies are looking for a cure -"
"There's no cure, Elena," Sully says wearily, at the same time as Nate says, "It's already worse than it was an hour ago. Look, Sully and I talked about this years ago - I don't want to turn into one of -"
"And you didn't think it would be a good idea to talk about this with your wife?" you demand, then immediately glance around: You know your voice is going shrill and usually you hate that (it tends to undermine your arguments), but better to go up in pitch than volume in case you attract Infected.
More Infected. God.
"Elena, I might not have my conscience much longer but I don't need your Infected corpse on it!"
"Let him go," Sully advises. "I'll take care of him, and then I'll get you back to the QZ."
You step forward and reach up to touch Nate's face.
"I'm sorry," you tell him. "I should have been there - if I'd been faster checking that drawer -"
"It's not your fault," he says. "I'm sorry."
"I know," you say simply. You tiptoe to kiss him on the cheek. "Love you."
"Love you too."
Slowly, taking one last long look at him, you back away, and then you turn around. "I can't watch this."
"I just came from that room," Sully says, gesturing behind him. "It's secure."
You nod, unable to speak, and retreat to the other room, which looks like it used to be a home office. After closing the door behind you, your gaze drifts over the desk and one distant corner of your mind says you should check for supplies, but instead your feet just take you to the opposite side of the room, where you sag down the wall and cover your ears.
It's still the loudest shot you've ever heard.
What: Uncharted into The Last of Us fanfiction - short story
Rating: PG13 (character death)
Words: ~770
Summary: What should have been an easy, everyday smuggling run for Nate, Elena, and Sully goes horribly wrong.
Notes: Inspired by
whatshisface's tags for Nate has his sleeves down when you catch up to him.
"It is freezing down here," he says, rubbing his arms. "Aren't you cold, Elena? I'd grab you a coat off one of these guys but they're probably crawling with spores."
"I don't think 'crawling' is the right word," you say dryly, but hey, at least he's thinking about it.
That's probably the biggest change in him since the outbreak: He thinks ahead a bit now, at least enough to poke around in old lockers without ignoring anything that looks like it's from this century. You know he'd rather be looking for treasure than scrap metal Sully can MacGyver together into gun improvements and five-year-old tins of food that might still be edible, but the world has changed and so must you.
(You think your biggest change is that you're getting tired. The government's the kind of corrupt that you would have been investigating five years ago, but between them and the Fireflies, you'd rather have the soldiers.)
You're definitely tired by the time you meet up with Sully and he and Nate swap backpacks. Dutifully, you check the contents of the bag you've received and tally them down in your notepad, but then Nate shakes his head when you pass the bag back.
"You bring it back," he says. "I've got some business to take care of."
"What 'business'?" you ask sharply, because this is the first time he's mentioned it.
"Just some guys to meet up with," Nate elaborates, the false note in his voice getting clearer. "I heard these guys might pay more for some of this stuff. They don't like dealing with women, though."
"Want me to come with you, kid?" offers Sully.
"No," Nate says quickly. "I can take care of myself."
You put the bag down and step up to him, putting steel into your gaze like you're interviewing a cagey politician back in the old world or dealing with a trumped up arms dealer here and now. "Nate, what's going on?"
"Nothing!"
"I don't know how you deal with soldiers when you're such a bad liar," you sigh. "Nate."
Nate sets his jaw, but quickly relents. Rather than say anything, he rolls up one sleeve the way he had this morning.
That bite on his wrist definitely wasn't there this morning.
You recoil. Sully draws his gun and racks the slide just as quickly, and Nate flinches.
"When?" you ask quietly.
"When we got split up because of that pillar," Nate says, not meeting your eyes. "Elena, I didn't want to leave you alone until we met up with Sully - he'll take care of you -"
"No," you murmur, shaking your head. "We're gonna figure this out, okay? I heard the Fireflies are looking for a cure -"
"There's no cure, Elena," Sully says wearily, at the same time as Nate says, "It's already worse than it was an hour ago. Look, Sully and I talked about this years ago - I don't want to turn into one of -"
"And you didn't think it would be a good idea to talk about this with your wife?" you demand, then immediately glance around: You know your voice is going shrill and usually you hate that (it tends to undermine your arguments), but better to go up in pitch than volume in case you attract Infected.
More Infected. God.
"Elena, I might not have my conscience much longer but I don't need your Infected corpse on it!"
"Let him go," Sully advises. "I'll take care of him, and then I'll get you back to the QZ."
You step forward and reach up to touch Nate's face.
"I'm sorry," you tell him. "I should have been there - if I'd been faster checking that drawer -"
"It's not your fault," he says. "I'm sorry."
"I know," you say simply. You tiptoe to kiss him on the cheek. "Love you."
"Love you too."
Slowly, taking one last long look at him, you back away, and then you turn around. "I can't watch this."
"I just came from that room," Sully says, gesturing behind him. "It's secure."
You nod, unable to speak, and retreat to the other room, which looks like it used to be a home office. After closing the door behind you, your gaze drifts over the desk and one distant corner of your mind says you should check for supplies, but instead your feet just take you to the opposite side of the room, where you sag down the wall and cover your ears.
It's still the loudest shot you've ever heard.