Author's note: This scene was meant to be an extended/deleted scene of sorts, just detailing a deeper look at Nate and Elena's relationship after he arrives in her apartment in Yemen. Hope I did them justice. Enjoy! :)

His grip had loosened on her fingers and she knew he was almost asleep. His hands were torn and dirty, calloused. She gently ran her thumb over the back of his hand and sighed. Worrying took a lot out of her and Nate was usually the source of that worry. This time had been particularly nerve wracking. Elena Fisher washed her hand over her face and tried not to focus on how tired she felt. She was not nearly as tired as the man lying across her lap.

His clothes were hot from the sun and sweat. She dropped her hand to his shoulder and he stirred. Instinctively, she combed her fingers through his hair to keep him calm. An ugly bruise shined across his cheek and a cut above his eyebrow had formed a fresh scab. Dirt caked his forehead and the back of his neck. Elena shook her head. Nate wasn't made of steel but she was damn sure he was close enough. She felt him take a breath and he spoke.

"Everything hurts."

She smiled lightly. "I can imagine."

He sighed and his breath hitched with a sudden pain. Elena frowned, pressing her hands to his shoulders. "Come on, get up. I can't let you stay like this."

Nate groaned. He managed a nod and she guided him to a sitting position. Elena stood to grab a first aid kit from the cabinet across the room and pulled the venetian blinds shut once she noticed Nate squinting from the light. The closed windows glowed green, blue and red from the blocked sun. Elena sank on to the couch beside him and he winced, trying to reach a spot on his back. She frowned at the spots of blood soaking through his shirt.

"Were you shot?" she asked. Her heart fluttered in her chest at the realization but her voice was all business.

Nate shrugged. "Dunno. Maybe they nicked me. It's not that bad."

Elena rolled her eyes as she pulled strips of gauze from the kit. He sniffed and wiped grime from his cheek with torn knuckles.

"Quit with the macho crap and take off your shirt," she ordered.

He stared at her. "That's not the way to get in my pants, y'know."

"I didn't ask for your pants, I asked for your shirt," Elena retorted. She smiled in spite of herself. For a moment, Nate smiled too but winced again as he moved to shrug out of his holster. It tumbled to the floor and Elena edged it away from them with her foot. Nate wobbled where he sat and she knew she had to work quickly before he completely passed out. He managed to pull his shirt up over his head, though it caught on a few wounds and he hissed in pain.

Elena pursed her lips at the expanse of his back, silently angry at the hatching of gashes across his skin. Blood trailed from a particularly deep wound under his shoulder blade, probably from a shard of glass or even a knife. Tears stung behind her eyes but her anger managed to stave them off. She wiped away the blood and dirt with a cloth and Nate flinched several times as she worked.

"I have to stitch it up," Elena told him. "Stop moving!"

"It hurts," he snapped.

"Well where doesn't it hurt, Nate?"

He hung his head as she threaded a suture, shaking strands of her hair from her eyes.

"I think my big toe managed to avoid any damage," he said through gritted teeth. "And maybe my left ass cheek."

Elena smirked. "I told you, we're keeping your pants on."

Sunlight from the cracked window blotched his skin with hot yellow light and it was enough for her to work. Nate clenched his fists and held his breath as she worked. She snipped the thread with scissors and reached for the gauze.

"That part's done. Sorry if I hurt you." Elena paused to tape up the bandage and her eyes worriedly scanned the other scratches. "What did you do?"

"Fell through some windows," he replied. "Things get a little tricky when a cruise ship capsizes."

Elena bit her lip as she cleaned a few scratches. She could smell rust and salt on him and it triggered memories of the last time the two of them had been on a sinking ship. She almost leaned against him for an embrace but stopped herself.

"How many windows?" she asked, fearing the answer.

"Lots."

She sighed again. Nate flinched as the cloth caught on a few wounds on his lower back. She gently pressed her hand against a dark purple bruise on his side and felt for fractures. His muscles were tense under her hands but his body drooped with exhaustion. Elena shook her head, inspecting another bruise.

"I hate to see you like this, Nate…"

He lifted his head. "…so is that why?"

"Why what?"

Nate looked at her over his shoulder. Her expression fell and she finally understood.

"I don't think this is the right time to talk," she said.

Elena reached for the first aid kit again, taking out a few band-aids and anti-biotic cream.

"When is a good time?" Nate asked.

She sighed, working the cream into the scratches. She covered a few of them with band-aids, surprised he was the one to bring everything up. He was silent, as if waiting for her to say something. She stared at his bare back, at all the wounds and the bandages; the clean spots where she'd wiped away blood and grime…

"I can't be here to stitch you up every time. I hate watching you push yourself to your limits, Nate." Elena fought to hide her tears. Damn him for bringing them out. "I'm scared that one day it's going to be too much."

He turned to face her and she had to look away. If she looked at him she'd embrace him and he'd hold her and she didn't need to fall apart now. She couldn't. This wasn't who she was, all worried and scared. But damn it if she didn't care that much about him.

"When we…" Nate paused. "When we were together it wasn't always life or death. Remember that trip to Australia, or hell, the tourist trap we fell into in Texas?" His smile drew her gaze to him. "All because you wanted to see a bit of history."

She tried not to smile back and half-succeeded. Those were precious memories. But then there were the dangerous trips, the ones in Mexico when he went alone and came back with broken bones and smelled like gunpowder. Elena nodded.

"I know, Nate," she whispered. For a moment, she looked at his beaten form and pressed her hand to his cheek. Her ring showed dull silver in the light. "But this is all getting in the way of your sleep."

He made a face and she knew he was mad at her for changing the subject. She stood from the couch and put away the first aid kit, shutting out the rest of the sunlight so she could only see him in silhouette. She put a hand on his head, gently guiding him to lie back down.

"I won't be far," she said. "See you tonight."

She headed for the door, but his hand closed around her wrist. "Wait, Elena. Please."

"Nate—"

"Sleep with me."

She blinked, laughing. "What?"

He laughed a little. "That's not what I meant. Just…stay with me."

Nate guided her to sit in front of him. He wrapped his arms around her waist and she leaned on his shoulder, gently embracing him. His skin was still warm and salty against her lips as she kissed his temple. She remembered what it was like being in his arms, guarded from the world and allowed herself to smile.

Elena buried her face in the crook of his shoulder and rocked side to side, trying to calm herself as much as she tried to calm him. In mere minutes his grip slackened around her waist and she knew he was asleep. She willed herself to leave his side and carefully stood from the couch. Tucking a strand of her hair behind her ear, she pulled a blanket over him and grazed her fingers through his hair a final time. Elena watched him for awhile, picking fretfully at a button on her blouse. She sighed and turned to leave the room, taking the map and the journal with her.

She understood then why Sully would go to the ends of the Earth for Nathan Drake. Anyone would only do such a stupid thing for someone they loved.