hadriel_logs | [closed] and since we've one place to go

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[closed] and since we've one place to go

Who: Nathan Drake, Elena Fisher, Agent Washington, Agent Maine, Kyna Midha, Staci Pratt, Poe Dameron, Taako Taaco, Lup Taaco, Peter Parker
What: Nate leads a ~~polar~~ expedition out to the mountains.
Where: Out on the tundra; at an undisclosed excavation site in the foothills.
When: February 1-14
Warnings: PG-13+ for swearing, descriptions of dead bodies/science torture. :(

[source]

WELCOME TO SNOW HELL

the journey | the door | the bunker | the lab

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[Elena doesn't bother with words. She made it to their tent first, because she saw this coming, or something like it; he'll keep it together, they both will because they have to, but the moment they don't have too many pairs of eyes propping them up, well. That's that.

And it has to be worse for Nate. She can hardly imagine it, but knows it must be true anyway. He brought them here; he's going to feel the weight of responsibility on his shoulders. And it's so, so much heavier than anyone expected.

Her arms go under his, wrapping around his back and matching his tight embrace with her own. She wishes she could take him away from all this by taking him into her arms, but that's as fruitless as wishing none of what they found was real. It is what it is and they can't escape it. All she can do is make sure he knows he's not alone with the burden.

She doesn't whisper that it's okay, because it isn't.]

[It's the emotional Heimlich maneuver he needs, a tight squeeze that presses all the dense emotion caught in his throat up and out again as Nate lets out a quaking breath. Cheek pressed to her hair he sucks in the smell of her greedily, grounding himself in something a little more stable than his thus far paltry attempts at leadership.]

I wouldn't have brought them here.

[He says hoarsely, swallowing hard.]

I didn't think-

[She knows his body language, knows him, and he doesn't have to say anything for her to feel what this has done to him. When he speaks, the harrowed sound of his voice doesn't tell her anything new, it just breaks her heart.]

Nate, no. Don't blame yourself for this.

[She pulls back just far enough to look at him, resting a hand on his cheek so he doesn't lose that extra bit of contact.]

You didn't do this. You didn't put those things there.

[He huffs, something between a bitter laugh and a weary sigh, stilling as her hand curls against his face. Touch helps but only just, smoothing the jagged edges where he's torn pieces of himself out to bandage other people's wounds.]

Yeah, I know, but- [But.] But you can't say this isn't a recurring theme with the crap I find.

That's not how it works. You find a lot of crap because you go out into the world and look for things when most other people don't even think of that.

[She won't let him go, won't let him break eye contact, but god, she knows how much easier it is to say than to believe.]

This is not your fault.

I know.

[He's repeating himself, but it bears repeating and the sentiment comes out of him like a sigh, tired and deflated. Nate's fingers link behind her back, comfortable and loose but begging for the touch she so graciously provides.

His gaze tracks a little more loosely, to the furrow at her brow and the freckles fading from their lack of sunlight.]

I just wish I could help these people, y'know? I've seen so much- we've seen so much weird, scary shit in our world that I barely notice it anymore. I don't see it. I didn't even think of what it would do to everyone else.

[If he knows, she can live with the repetition. Next step: getting him to believe it.]

Yeah. I get it.

[No one should have to deal with any of this. No one should have to be here at all, in any part of this world.]

It's shitty beyond the telling of it. But at least we're here together—no one's facing it alone. Maybe we didn't go on this expedition because we're all best friends, but we're still in this as a group, and that means something.

Nothing breeds camaraderie like shared trauma.

[ Nate mumbles, not trying to put-down the effort at drawing some good out of this otherwise terrible situation. It's a fact, and they're living proof of it. He tips his head down until their foreheads touch, a warm anchor, quietly breathing. ]

I'm trying to help them. Feels like I'm just bullshitting most of it.

[That much is true. Elena can think of multiple times when some pretty awful shit led to relationships she still values highly, which probably never would have existed otherwise. It doesn't negate any of the awful shit part, though.]

We're all bullshitting our way through this, honey. There's no guide for any of it. That you mean it, that you care so damn much—it matters. Don't think for a second that it doesn't.

[ As the world's leading expert in bullshit of a different variety, Nate doesn't particularly like this version. Adaptable he may be, but being able to empathize openly with multiple people to make it look like he's got this crap together is way harder than he thought.

He exhales through his nose, forehead still wrinkling, knowing the worry is as tangible as the alien bodies they saw being torn apart.

Nate falls back on what makes him the most comfortable. ]

They should make a guide. "Leading A Bunch of Randos In Times of Crisis."

[For all that the joke is expected, part of the routine and not at all indicative of actual humor in this moment, it makes her smile. It's a start, that he can joke. If they were so far gone from their defense mechanisms that Nate couldn't bring himself to do that, Elena thinks she'd be even more lost than she feels right now.]

Yeah. Real inconsiderate that it hasn't come out yet.

[She closes her eyes for a moment, focusing on his close presence.]

Doing something will help. I don't know what, yet, but when we bring this information back to the town—the fact that we know more puts us in a better position to act on that knowledge.

It's not the same, but years ago when Jeff and I were chasing after Lazarevic in Nepal—the things we saw, the people who were suffering...it was rough. But knowing we were acting to expose him to the world, doing something to make some kind of difference, it helped, even before we ran into you.

[ Joking is coping, inasmuch as it can be. She's right - once again, always - that they'll be able to use this information to their collective advantage. Nate knows as much, has taken down all the data he feasibly can, has made copies of the images and videos, is marginally ready to share them.

He doesn't want to expose more people to material like this, but ignorance is worse.

Thumbing at the small of her back Nate nods as Elena speaks, his mouth thinning at the mention of Jeff, poor bastard, and he knows that accepting some of this goes hand in hand with the remedy. Exposure isn't everything, but it can be enough. Awareness can be enough. ]

We don't know what good this information's gonna do anyone. [ He points out, because as far as he knows the majority already hate the Null. ] But I see your point.

Good, cuz it's awesome. My points always are.

[Elena knows there's the possibility this information will only be marginally of use. But it's not nothing, and enough marginally useful things can add up to some incredibly useful things.

She just hopes people don't have to go through more of this in the process. For a moment, she holds him a little tighter.]

Okay, well, don't get too carried away.

[ Nate chuckles, a low rumble from his chest into hers. Out here, humor and MREs are all they have. Elena squeezes him tighter and Nate returns it, exhaling when he pulls away enough to push some of her hair behind her ear.

It could always be worse, he knows. No matter how dire, things can be worse. He'd rather have the company. ]

I'm glad you're here.

[The casually intimate gesture makes her feel better as much as their embrace does. If she could read his mind, she'd remind him that they've got each other, too, and that matters. It matters a lot.]

Same here, cowboy.

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