The feeling of breaking through the water was something Atlas would never forget. The cool air filling his lungs with every hurried breath and the glimmering stars painting the sky above him. He could see the lighthouse in the distance, the adrenaline in his body could power him that far at least. Even though he knew this was something to be done quickly, to bring Jack back to conciousness, he made a statement of taking his time. It had been years since he had seen the world, the real world, with stars and clouds and fresh air. The cold wind slashed his face, so sharply he was wary that it would cut, but he did not care. He had done it. No, they had done it. He needed Jack, and Jack needed him. How on Earth they would find civilization again Atlas didn't know, but they could always hold up in the lighthouse until a boat passed by. Before hurtling himself onto the platform surrounding the lighthouse, he lifted Jack as carefully as he could above his head and lowered him down on the cold stone. His godforsaken jumper was still grasped in Atlas's hand, it wasn't perfectly suited for an underwater getaway. Blood was still stained into it, some of the red flowing through the chunky wool. It was the final step, Atlas used all the remaining strength in his upper arms to pull himself up onto the platform. His mouth tasted of nothing but salt, still managing to be dry despite all the water he had swallowed. Now he could relax, for a short time at least. His eyes dragged across the sky, only so far away from civilization could you see the sky so clear. It was as if the stars had fled from the smog filled skies, crowding together in the fresh air. It was a full moon on that night, a sight Atlas had forgotten so easily. Down in Rapture, he never thought he would miss the sky, the feel of air cutting at his cheeks and the lapping of the sea at his ankles. He could not admire for long though, there would be no use being up here if he was up here alone. Jack lay lifelessly on the stone, and Atlas had to rack his mind to remember the CPR he had learned. CPR was the thing to use now, right? He straddled Jack's hip, his fists pumping on his chest. He breathed into Jack's now open mouth, it wasn't a pleasant feeling. He never though he'd have to remember any of this, he thought he would be safe in Rapture. Everybody thought they would be safe in Rapture. Everybody was wrong.

Three scratchy coughs broke from Jack's mouth as Atlas pumped on his chest for a final time. His signature cheesy grin spread across his cheeks, and Jack turned to look at him.

"Can I ask what's going on here?" Jack asked in a gravelly voice.

Atlas quickly removed himself from Jack's hips, taking off his own shirt to offer it to Jack. Beneath it he wore a thin vest, and he could feel the wind almost blowing through him. Jack took it with a grateful nod, wrapping it around his shivering shoulders. Jack stretched his neck, rolling his shoulders backwards, as his eyes were then glued to the sky. He had so few memories, and he had no idea how long it would be before he got them back if he did at all. For the moment, all he remembered about the outside world was the terrible plane crash. After that, he was too busy searching for answers in the lighthouse to admire his surroundings. Then, Rapture. He shuddered, partly because of the cold and partly because of the memories. The Sun was sinking behind the horizon, the bottom of the sky a tinted orange colour. In between were pasty peaches, turning into rich blues and then royal purples. Tiny rays of lights flooded over the crowded canvas that was the night sky. It was the most beautiful thing Jack had ever seen, and he was always so scared he would never see the sky again.

"We did it." Jack breathed, having his first rest in what felt like months.

Atlas threw his arm, feeling so heavy he could hardly lift it, over Jack's shoulder and let out the heartiest chuckle he could manage "Now let's get inside boyo."

They carried each other, Jack still dizzy from almost drowning and Atlas still exhausted from hauling Jack to safety. The door to the lighthouse opened without too much force, and somehow candles were still burning inside. Atlas slammed the door shut, craving the warmth and light. Jack collapsed on a wooden rocking chair, the most comfortable thing he had seen in a while. Atlas poked the dying flames, rubbing his hands together for extra comfort. Suddenly he felt weak in the knees, so he quickly lowered himself onto the stone floor. He remembered being this cold before, when the cold winter took over Rapture. Fires were set in plazas, burning old books and pieces of clothing to stay warm. Andrew Ryan had not made too much of a fuss, the rich members of Rapture seated comfortably in their perfectly heated homes. It was the rotten treatment that the working class had received in Rapture that inspired Atlas to retaliate, and where he got his reputation.

"Atlas?" Jack asked, noticing the man's absence.

Atlas blinked back to reality, returning to a much warmer and safer place. He passed a forceful smile to Jack, standing up from the now lively fire stove. He observed their surroundings, far more dim than the outside world but far warmer. Jack lids were slowly collapsing upon themselves, quiet yawns filling the room. Atlas picked up the blankets and cushions he could find across the stone floor.

"There'll be beds upstairs." Atlas stated, his long legs tackling the metal stairs.

Jack wasn't a short man, and Atlas was far from it. He had long, slim legs that spilled just perfectly into his trousers. His arms were covered in muscle, from working so hard Jack had thought. Jack jumped up from the chair with the energy he had left in him, and followed Atlas up the stairs. On the floor above was a dismal sink, a worn dresser and a bed. It had clearly not been used in a long time, it was bare excusing one pillow and a pathetic excuse for a sheet. Atlas emptied his loot onto the bed, piling the pillows on either side of the bed and laying blankets atop each other. Jack buttoned up Atlas's shirt, realising he had been wearing so recklessly all this time. As he covered his chest back up, he noticed the scars cut deep into his skin. If he looked very closely, he dared to say he could see the electricity in his veins. Atlas took the small sheet, frayed at the ends, and one small pillow and made a second bed on the floor for himself.

"You can't be serious." Jack chuckled, comparing the heaven of comfort that was his bed to Atlas's makeshift one.

Atlas curled up, back facing the bed, letting his dark hair fall rebelliously on the pillow. "What?" He mumbled, already sounding half asleep.

"You didn't escape from Rapture to return to a life of shabby living." Jack sat himself on the end of the bed "There's room for two in here."

"Sorry to disappoint you Jack, but I'm married." He chuckled, but the chuckle fell dead in his mouth.

Was married, he thought. His hands began to shake, as he stared at the golden ring on his finger. After all the trouble they had gone through, he had been sure to keep that ring, thinking his family would be up here with them right now. Jack wasn't sure what to do, he didn't really know what losing people felt like. Of course he had lost people, so many people, but not in any way that Atlas had. Atlas's fingers clasped onto the ring, now worn with age and work. She had picked out the rings, sweet Moira. Atlas remembered how special he had felt on that day, seeing her so beautiful in her dress. When all the hype of surgery came around, Atlas made sure to clarify that Moira didn't need a single thing changed. It was only two years later that Patrick was born, so much potential within him. Atlas clenched his fist, the metal still cold against his skin.

"Atlas." Jack breathed, reaching his hand out cautiously.

"It's fine, boyo. Really, it's just a little... surreal." Atlas whispered, not allowing himself to cry.

Jack wished he could understand, in the same way he was glad he couldn't. Jack had never grown close to anybody, never had time for love interests or at least that he could remember. Atlas's whole life was in Rapture, his whole family, his whole story. It was gone, in such a ruthless manner too. Jack did all he knew he could do, he knelt down beside Atlas and pulled the Irishman close to his chest. His hands gripped tightly at his vest material, his head fitting perfectly over Atlas's shoulder. The taller man let out a heavy chuckle, patting Jack on the back in order not to seem too upset. Then Jack squeezed him tightly, the emotions taking over him finally, and Atlas realized this wasn't just an act to comfort him but it was for Jack too.

"I'm sorry." Jack said.

It was such a simple thing, but it was filled with so much emotion. His voice was wavering, but Jack didn't even know if he had enough emotion in him to cry. Atlas took in a long breath, smelling himself on Jack's shirt. He let out a quiet noise of content, a mix between a satisfied chuckle and a light sigh. Then Atlas patted him on the back, signalling he wanted some space. Jack backed off after lingering for a few seconds, but was still knelt on the floor. Atlas ruffled Jack's hair, standing up to his full height and then collapsing onto the bed. If Atlas could do anything, he could make light in dark situations. Even if the light was as small as a comfortable bed to stay the night in. He kicked off his brown dress shoes, now worn and battered from never being changed. His grey, creased vest was then pulled over his head, disconnecting the suspenders from his trousers. Sleeping in a warm bed was a dream, but sweating in one was not. Jack watched out of the corner of his eye as Atlas undressed, not wanting to be rude but unsure where else to look. His eyes travelled across the lines of muscle on his stomach, two diagonal lines dipping above his hips and disappearing into his trousers. He was too nervous to remove any of his clothing, not wanting any awkward brushes of skin on skin whilst they slept. Jack rolled down the sleeves of Atlas's shirt, doing the buttons up to the neck.

"I never thought I'd be so excited to climb into a warm bed." Atlas spoke aloud, though it sounded like something he pulled from his thoughts.

Jack let out a quiet laugh, trying to stop the sleeves of the shirt from hiding his hands. He was almost jealous, almost being an understatement, of Atlas's build. It was just unfair for one man to have dark hair and blue eyes and pale skin. On top of that, he was tall with no fat to be seen and only muscle. He slowly crept into the bed, letting the warmth take over his body and allowing himself to melt into the heat. He felt like was over reacting about the whole thing, but he felt like he hadn't slept since he had gotten to Rapture and even then it was on cold floors. Atlas smiled at the younger man, sliding his legs under the many layers of bed sheets. It wasn't a massive bed, probably meant for a small couple or two children. Atlas was not as a reserved sleeper as Jack, his arms spreading across the pillows and his legs brushing against Jack's. Jack was curled into a ball, trying not to shiver when he felt Atlas's bare skin brush against him.

"Goodnight boyo." He slurred, and Jack knew already he would be asleep within a minute or two.

Atlas turned to face Jack, quiet snores already brewing in his throat. Jack froze, feeling the hot breath on his cheeks. He turned away, flipping over to get some distance, but feeling hot breath on his neck only made things worse. He tossed and turned, not being able to find a comfortable position with this specimen sprawled in his face. Jack swore it took at least fifteen minutes to get into a safe position, but it wasn't comfortable in the slightest. Then Atlas just had to move, Jack tried to move away as smoothly as he could but reflexes had never been his strong point. Atlas was slowly turning onto his front Jack had thought, but the only thing he really moved was the bottom half of his body. His hips brushed against Jack's, one of his legs craning over Jack's body. He could feel the heat in his cheeks, and even as cold as Jack was it wasn't a heat he welcomed. It happened again, and again, and again. Throughout Jack's attempts at sleeping it was if it Atlas wanted to tease Jack into staying awake, each contact lingering longer each time.

"For God's sake." Jack cursed under his breath, unable of moving away.

If he moved away, they would just rut against each other again and Jack wasn't sure he could handle it again. Jack could feel the beads of sweat on his forehead, trickling down to his collarbones. Moving hips first, he pulled away to the edge of the bed and peeled the covers off of his hot body. Quicker than he thought he could manage, he unbuttoned the shirt and hung it over the bed's headboard. He used the edge of the sheet to wipe his forehead and chest quickly, before he slid back underneath. How big his and Moira's bed in Rapture must have been Jack didn't know, or at least how she had dealt with this scarecrow of a man in her bed. It had not taken long for Jack to fall back asleep, as long as he remained still through their brushes of skin. At one point Atlas's hand stretched over Jack to the end of the bed, and his fingers ever so lightly brushed his hipbone and never had he felt so embarrassed. As the night stretched on he grew closer to Atlas, his head soon resting just underneath the Irishman's chin. His hand may have lingered over Atlas's hips a few times, craving more warmth from the man but he thought better of it. When the Sun crept over the horizon, their bellies were beyond empty, but they were nothing but comfortable.

Atlas was the first to wake, a pain in his neck screamed at him as he tried to sit up. Jack was sleeping peacefully, making little to no sound. He slipped his arm skilfully out from under Jack's neck and sat at the edge of the bed. Faint red brushed across Jack's cheeks as he turned in his sleep, his eyebrows suggesting pleasant shock. Atlas stood up, stretching his bare arms high above his head and searching the room for his vest. As it fell onto his chest, he heard a mumble from Jack. He was still asleep, that was for sure, but Atlas couldn't make out the words he was spluttering out. He bent his back, craning in to hear what Jack was dreaming about. A heavy breath dusted onto Atlas's nose, and he leaned in closer.

"Atlas." Jack breathed out, his cheeks growing redder.