And My Heart Leaped To The Rapture Of Living

Jack was in agonizing pain. His left arm, dripping blood, hung limply at his side as he finished barricading himself in the room.

He had been scrounging around for some more amunition and eve hypos when he had come across a big Daddy with its little sister. It had taken all of his remaining ammunition (plus quite a few swings of a pipe wrench) to bring down the beast, and he had no sooner helped the cured little sister back into the vent before splicers had converged on him.

He was almost positive that a few of his ribs were fractured (courtesy of the Big Daddy) and he was unsure of what was wrong with his arm, but after his tangle with a brutish lead head he was having trouble moving it. He was limping hard as well; another lead head had shot him in the foot.

He practically collapsed on a stray mattress in the corner; something he was thankful for. With his good hand he fumbled with the radio at his waist, taking it off his belt and laying it by his head. He closed his eyes with a sigh, hoping some sleep would make him feel better.

Frank Fontaine watched the scuffle with the Big Daddy through one of his tapped cameras, and was entirely uncomfortable with the gut-wrenching worry he felt when he saw Jack take that blow to the chest. He knew the boy had to have broken some ribs upon impact; he could only hope that the damage wasn't too severe. He called Jack over the radio to congratulate him on yet another victory, easily slipping into the voice of Atlas.

No sooner than he turned off the microphone, sudden movement in one of the monitors caught his eye. He watched as Jack, defenseless, was overrun by a group of Splicers. He felt sick watching it, knowing that there wasn't a thing he could do to help.

He lost Jack for a while when he ran through an area that he hadn't managed to wire yet, and that caused a new bout of sickening worry; he was so relieved when Jack finally reappeared on one of his screens. He could only watch as Jack struggled to barricade himself in a room, one arm hanging uselessly at his side. When the boy practically collapsed onto a mattress and fell immediately asleep, Frank just couldn't stand it anymore; he dolled himself up in his perfect Atlas disguise and ventured out into the heart of Rapture.

- - - - -
Though he couldn't see what he was doing, Atlas (really the head of Fontaine Futuristics) was experienced enough with his Plasmids that he could use them even without seeing his target; a few short minutes with the Telekinesis plasmid was all it took to break down Jack's barricade and let himself into the room where he lay, still sleeping. The Irishman kneeled beside the matress and reached out to gently touch Jack's shoulder. "Oi, boyo, c'n ye hear me?"

Jack woke with a start, jerking away then letting out a pained gasp and clutching his arm. When he had jerked at the newcomer's touch it had flared up in a whole new brand of pain.

"W-who are you" He managed to grit out, scooting back against the wall. He was sure that if the man wanted to hurt him, he would have done it already, but then again you could never tell with the inhabitants of rapture.

He fumbled for his radio, pulling it closer in case he needed to call for help.

"What do ye mean, 'who are ye?'" he asked, a lazy smile crossing his face. "Why, Jack, ye don' evun recognize ye ol' pal Atlas? Tha's a right shame, so 'tis."

Fontaine had put a lot of effort into perfecting that persona; and he'd had three years of nearly constant practice at it. Atlas' easygoing way and decidedly Irish mannerisms were second nature to him; the thick Irish bough spilled past his lips like music, as though he'd been speaking it his entire life.

"Atlas- Oh, right" Jack sighed, running a hand over his face. "You don't look much like your picture on the radio." He carefully held his arm again. "And I may have addled my brains with that last big daddy. Or at least the rest of my body. Don't happen to have a first aid kit on you do you?" He gave him a half-hearted pained smile.

"Good to finally meet you Atlas."

"Lay still a mo' and lemme patch ye up, boyo. Ye all banjaxed, an' I jus' can't stan' ta see ye like that. Once we get ye fixed 'ow's about ye come back to me 'ideout and lay low a while, get back on ye feet. Refill ye ammunition while ye at it." He continued to speak in the low, smooth, lyrical speech equivocal to the Irishman as he pulled out one of his first aid kits and began to bandage Jack's wounds. "An' it's good ta finally meet ye, too, Jack."

"Thanks Atlas" Jack sighed. "I would love to lay low for a little while, and more ammunition would be a welcome luxury."

"Speaking of luxuries" He shifted and pulled a flask out of his pocket with his good hand. "Found this in a bathysphere. Filled with some top notch hooch. Want some?"

Atlas drew back a bit in surprised, then laughed. "Go 'way with yer 'hooch.' Ye best not be joshin' me, of there'll be hell ta pay. Gimme a shot o' tha' there." He reached out to take the bottle from Jack's hands and tipped it back to take a swig. "Oi, that yoke tastes wojus, but I'll be damned if tha' ain't the best kick I 'ad in ages."

Jack chuckled lightly. "Guess its just an acquired taste. Been finding all sorts of drinks just laying about, but I like the flask that stuff's in. Just don't have the heart to drink by myself" He shifted uncomfortably on the mattress. "So where abouts is your hide away?"

"Ye'll see soon 'nuff. 'Tis only 'bout an hour's walk, so let us be after it. Ye look right knackered, an' I got a much more comf'erbal place fer ye ta sleep than this yoke here." He got to his feet and held out a hand to Jack to help him up. "Whadda ye say, boyo?"

"I say let's hurry up before I have to fight off another damn lead head" Jack chuckled, accepting the offered hand to pull himself up. "Thank you for all your help, Atlas. I'm sorry I can't do more to help you"

"Boyo, ye've done all I've asked and more. Ye're a good kid, an' I'm lucky to 'ave ye on my side," Atlas replied, putting an arm around Jakc's shoulders as much to be friendly as to keep him steady. "We run into any splicers, ye just leave them ta me, a'ight?"

- - - - -
A while later, Atlas pushed aside a large metal grate that blocked the crawlspace into the cozy office he'd been using as his hideout. It wasn't far from the main building of Fontaine Futurisctics, so he was able to use the monitors there to keep an eye on Jack. He explained all this as they crawled through the sort tunnel and came out into a smartly-decorated little room with a real, intact bed pushed against one of the walls.

"Welcome to me' 'umble abode, boyo. What ye think?"

"Cozy" Jack sighed. "Reminds me a bit of an actual home. Its a nice change." He dusted off his knees with his good hand and gestured at the bed. "mind if I take a seat?"

"By my guest, boyo. Ye can go 'head an' take a bit o' a rest if ye please. I can some tea on for us; mebbe put a shot o' whiskey in it an' make some hot toddies. Howsat soun?" he asked, kicking his boots off and into a corner.

Jack sighed. "Sounds wonderful" he smiled. He kicked his shoes off as well before pulling off his stained white sweater. He hung the sweater on a bed post before laying carefully on the bed. "Thank you again Atlas. Don't know when the last time I actually slept was."

"Ye jus' make sure ye're comfortable, and I'll make sure ye're safe. Now would ye kindly get on to sleep? I can see ye're worn out."

Jack smiled and closed his eyes. He was asleep almost instantly.

Atlas sat for a long while, carefully watching his young compatriot's chest rise and fall. When he was sure that the young man was definitely asleep, he leaned back in his chair and took a long draw from a bottle of whiskey, slipping out of his Atlas persona.

Irritated with himself, Frank Fontaine pinched the bridge of his nose, trying to relieve his building headache. How, he wondered, had he managed to get himself into such a situation. Jack was nothing to him, just a pawn in the great game of life; a pawn he meant to use to take out a king. So how, how in the name of God, had he managed to start caring about the boy? How could he have let it happen? Maybe it was Jack's innocence, unadulterated even by the horrific reality of Rapture; maybe it was the way Jack trusted every word he said, without question. Most likely, he figured, it was Jack's eyes; those beautiful, trusting, desirous eyes that needed him to guide them, that called on him to help solve every problem that came their way, never doubting that he would be there. In the face of such expectations, could he do anything less than meet them? He thought not. In the face of such unconditional love, could he do anything less than love him in return? Clearly not.

He took another deep draw from the bottle, making a face as the whiskey burned its way down his throat. As he stood, he slipped back into Atlas as though the persona were a well-worn coat. He leaned over the sleeping man and put his lips as close as he could to Jack's ear without actually touching him. "Can ye hear me, boyo?" he whispered, sweet and sultry. "Would ye kindly dream of me, Jackie-boy? T'would please me greatly, that it would."

Jack hummed and shifted in his sleep. "A-Atlas..." He murmured in his sleep.

He leaned in further, a hand planted on either side of Jack's body, so that his chest was pressed lightly against the man's back and let his lips rest ever-so-lightly on the back of his neck. "What are ye dreamin' about, boyo?" he asked softly, lips grazing the soft, warm flesh and breath fanning across it. "Tell yer ol' pal Atlas what ye see."

"R-running" Jack murmured. "Escaping to the surface..." He groaned and shifted. "With Atlas and Tannenbaum and the little sisters"

"Yeah?" he asked, letting his lips graze Jack's neck again. "Tell me more, Jackie-boy. What else do ye see?"

Not one to be restrained by petty inhibitions, he lifted a hand from the bed and placed it on Jack's hip, caressing the sensitive flesh there. He put a knee on the edge of the bed to steady himself, then leaned in to run his tongue along the shell of the young man's ear.

Jack shuddered. "Splicers. Too many of them..." He groaned "We have to get the little sisters to the bathysphere"

Atlas made a soothing sound, something like a purr, that he hadn't previously been aware that he was capable of and nuzzled the back of Jack's ear tenderly. "Shh, boyo. Atlas wouldn't let ye get hurt, would 'e? An' he wouldn't let anythin' happen ta those Little Sisters either, would 'e? There's nothin' fer ye ta be afraid of, boyo. So would ye kindly relax? And tell me more o' what ye see." He said, sighing the words seductively as he continued to rub Jack's hip. He kissed the back of Jack's neck and sucked at sensitive spot, though not quite hard enough to leave a mark.

Jack visibly relaxed. "I... White." He murmured. "sheets... and hands..." He shifted, though gently this time. "Touching..."