"…a….t…."

Static. The static was speaking again. His mind was rejecting it again.

"…la….as…t- Atlas!"

He was back.

It was very much like blinking awake from a dream. Eyes snapping back open without the knowledge he'd had them shut to begin with. Taking a startled gasp of air back into his lungs as he returned to the present. A voice in his head that for once he was sure had to be real.

But then again, it would not be the first time his mind led him astray.'

With clarity there came pain. Dulled by the ADAM coursing through his veins, going about its intended purpose of stitching the host back together. It was a gradual process and Atlas dragged his hand up before his eyes, sure enough he found it sat at the wrong angle. In an attempt to right that wrong before the ADAM could fuse his bones together incorrectly, Atlas hastily snapped it back into place, teeth biting down on his lip as violently as he could without drawing more of his own blood.

Still that voice came to him, real, solid, across the radio.

Tenenbaum.

"Atlas, are you awake?" The way the German woman said it, the heaviness to her words, Atlas knew what she was really asking.

"I 'ear you." He grunted, testing the movement of his fingers out gingerly.

It hurt horribly, more so with the adrenaline dying away. Just as well it had kept him alive in the moment, now he was left with the fallout of that encounter. Still wondering just how much of it truly happened. The physical evidence suggested most of it had happened, though he didn't place much stock in the ghosts he'd seen or even Ava. Something about her not solid enough. There'd been a body there sure enough, but he doubted it was truly Ava.

What was very real however, was the tiny body still carefully crouched at his side, trembling.

Looking at her now and seeing her for what she was, Atlas could not help but feel cheated. A smaller part of him said to feel that way was to be selfish – but he was never a selfless man, no matter what the propaganda said.

She was filthy, as they all were, hands dirtied and blood caked along her shredded dress. Atlas for a moment wondered if any of it was her own but decided it was more likely what was left of her last ADAM collection. A meal that made his insides squirm. He checked that squirming, it was discomfort. Not hunger. Not a splicer. Not him.

The little sister was not his son. Atlas's mind tried to backtrack, to remember all the parts of his delusions. He recalled blond hair, thought it belonged to Patrick. But when he thought more carefully he realized it couldn't have been Patrick. His son had curly hair…he…he was sure of it. The afterimage that he'd imprinted onto the child in his mania had disheveled but clearly straight hair.

But he knew it. Somewhere in his memory he knew a child like that.

He thought a little more and recalled when the illusion had shifted. The dress he saw then had been red. The dress this girl was clad in was a dulled shade or purple. He assigned the tag 'violet' to it in some distant sort of way. Still recovering from the flurry of movement and fight that he'd been abruptly torn from.

The girl seemed to be fairing no better than he was. Hands clutched over her head and shaking violently. Atlas became aware of his arm looping over her shoulders protectively only once he felt her shaking through it. Their shield had finally been dropped somewhere between his brief nearing to unconsciousness and returning to awareness, leaving Atlas as the only solid form that the girl could hide behind.

It continued to strike him as odd that she hid behind him at all.

"The child?" Tenenbaum inquired stiffly. An accusation left unspoken carried easily in her tone.

A secondary scan and Atlas was satisfied that he had been the pincushion through that whole ordeal. The little sister no worse for wear than she'd been upon discovery.

Tiredly he gave her shoulder a small squeeze to see if she'd respond, maybe shriek and flee from him as they seemed to instinctively do. Rather than that she pressed in harder against his side, leaving Atlas decidedly more alarmed than if she had screamed.

Uncomfortable he answered the doctor. "Aye. She's right as rain." A pause and then Atlas remarked more snidely. "I'm doing just wonderfully myself, thanks for asking."

He could practically hear Tenenbaum's disdain through the momentary silence. It made him smile.

With her quiet for a beat, Atlas glanced back to the kid, wondering if she's say anything if spoken to. Wondering if it'd just be the usual garble of nonsense about angels and bubblegum. "Ay…sister, ya with me down there?" He asked, not sure what else to say. Checking in so to speak.

When she looked up at him, Atlas's heart jumped into his throat, choking him. Those luminous eyes lit up the area around her, boring little holes into him despite that likely not being the girl's intent. It felt like judgement and he surely deserved it. He'd never looked at their eyes before. Purposefully turned away, pawned the dirty work off to his men. Actively kept himself clear of their gaze even if he never acknowledged the small act of cowardice.

Looking at her now was hard. He didn't turn away.

He'd almost forgotten the prompt to speak and when her double trilled voice spoke that startled him half as bad as the staring had. "What were you doing by sweet lady's bed?"

That….took a little bit of decoding.

Mostly because the kid said 'sweet lady' rather than 'angel'. He remembered where he'd first seen the kid, standing up in the projection booth right next to the arms dealer's body, and he took 'bed' to mean her corpse. Must have been nice being able to believe in a lie like that.

It was not exactly typical little sister vocabulary and Atlas had to rearrange the words in his head to make sense of them before he could answer. "Ah…just checkin' on her." He replied flatly after a moment, not exactly having a lie on hand for something so bizarre. Then ventured. "And why were you there?" Without a protector, not at a vent, watching him.

"Sister sent me."

Right. Atlas thought and then immediately followed up with. What?

His oblivious silence clearly deterred the child none as she went on in a matter of fact tone. "Big sister Elenore wanted to give her a gift." Not much good a gift could do for a dead woman. And yet Atlas still asked what exactly she meant by that and the girl produced a crumpled flower. It was a pitiful little thing. Torn and missing petals. He imagined it had been in better condition before they'd both nearly died.

Why bring a flower? This time Atlas didn't need to ask. The kid was doing the Rapture of equivalent to leaving a bouquet at someone's grave.

"That….that's a nice gift." He said awkwardly. It was difficult holding a conversation with a drugged-up child carrying a slug around in her stomach. Mostly because he didn't know they could hold conversation. It never occurred to him that these little girls wouldn't be scared of people that weren't splicers. Primarily because everyone was a fucking splicer by this point and more than half of Rapture was out to eat them alive.

Yeah, he could imagine why that might make a little girl less conversational.

Yet here one was, chatting to him. Trusting him. Atlas wasn't sure that was something he was wholly comfortable with. But for the sake of a few answers he decided to roll with it.

Except then the girl looked back towards the theater, expression nervous. "But…I didn't give it to her." Likely because she'd been a touch busy dealing with everything else. Atlas felt a touch sorry for that, but he thought he'd more than made up for it by keeping her alive – even if under the illusion of it being his son.

Begrudgingly he followed her gaze back to the theater. Berating himself for a moment longer. He was not exactly biting at the bit to head on back in there…

Sighing he sought out his radio again, pulling it up and wishing he were able to just sleep for a few fucking seconds between this shit. "Hey. Doctor, ya listening in."

"Closely." Right. Of course. Atlas imagined she was probably scribbling notes of some kind. He figured she knew the brats could be spoken to at times – but she always was the type to record every little thing. Fucking scientists.

"Where's the kid at?"

"Delta is making his way through Cohen's Collection." Oh and wouldn't he just be having a marvelous time. Atlas was envious. Truly he was. Nothing he loved more than looking at more of Cohen stroking himself off on a canva-

He remembered the kid at his side and somehow had decency enough to end that thought there.

"And how is he holding up?" Atlas asked as he hoisted himself back up to his feet with a low groan of pain. Better than himself he should hope. The fact he was aching so bad was only made worse when the little monster looked up at him with brows pinched in concern. Well shit, getting pity from demon brats now. His life was a shining beacon of pride.

"Well." Tenenbaum answered. Always to the point. He could appreciate that if nothing else. "Seems Delta handles the new form of ADAM without little adverse effect. Delta has collected much for Stanley to see with relative ease. Stanley should have over the keys soon."

Well lucky fucking him, Atlas thought a touch bitterly.

Despite his irritability Atlas took this to be a good answer. Better Delta be listening to Stanley's yammering than himself. He wondered if the kid really was collecting that 'incriminating footage' for the loon.

A problem for later. For now Atlas dragged his bag back over to his side, halfheartedly checking that what few things he had was all inside and unbroken. Pointlessly he checked the painting he'd rolled up – seemed to be in no worse a condition than it had been found. Satisfied with what little he had, Atlas got to forcing himself to move.

Straightening up and checking that his damn spine wasn't broken, it was fine though it sure as shit didn't feel it, before finally glancing back down the sister. Still clutching that sad, wilting little flower. It was a fairly pitiful sight and coupled with the faintly scared look she was giving him, as though now he was standing she did not trust him to not strike her, it all looked disconcerting.

"You want to take it to her?" Atlas asked bluntly. No longer addressing Tenenbaum though he could feel her listening to him closely. "I'll take ya back, but you gotta keep quiet, ya hear me? Not a peep." He said it sternly, finger pointed at the child though he somehow felt the severity of his order was lost on her.

Might have done something to do with the way her eyes seemed to light up with a shine that had nothing to do with ADAM or the way her mouth turned upwards into an eager smile.

Christ.

Atlas huffed and turned away, expecting her to follow. If she ran now there wasn't a bleeding thing he could do about it anyway besides manhandle her and what good would that do him? It'd just make him sick to his stomach, cause a scene and likely draw more attention he did not need to them.

He expected her to follow sure enough. What he did not expect, nor want for that matter, was to feel her tiny hand slipping into his own. Atlas had never jumped so badly because of a child before. He looked down to where her small hand held his in disbelief, then to her oblivious little face. He nearly tore his hand back away but chided himself. He didn't want her to stop being so well behaved…but god it felt wrong to be walking hand in hand with the kid.

His skin was crawling and he told himself it was because her fingers were cold and did not feel human. He told himself it had nothing to do with him and all to do with her. Atlas told himself a lot of things now days.

Ignoring his discomfort Atlas began to lead the girl back down the path they'd come. Part of him was morbidly curious to know exactly what his drugged state had changed and what was the same. When they actually reached the theater his lip curled in disgust seeing that the jester monster was still laying where it had fallen.

But it was all that was left of the nightmares. The puppets he now knew to be nothing more than threads were absent, there were n ghostly figures among the seats. The vibrancy of the theater had faded back to the decrepit state he first found it in. It was a strange day that found Atlas relieved to see Rapture in its familiar ruins.

By his side the sister seemed to slow. He glanced her from the corner of his eye to see her little shoulders bunched up, nervous as she looked around anxiously. Had he been one of those metal mammoths she'd have been skipping about, but with him she was clearly not so confident in her safety.

Actually, Atlas found himself a touch offended by this. Had he not nearly died protecting her? All things considered he though he did a pretty fucking outstanding job on that front.

Keeping that offense to himself Atlas took them back up to the projection room. Noting dimly that he could see the step his foot had gone right through when he'd run down those steps. Looking at it now he could see just how fragile it had been where his illusion had it looking solid. Yeah, that seemed about right.

Passing it by carefully and turning to hold the girl's hands so she could half step and half jump over it, Atlas continued on upwards, stopping at the projection room door.

Rushing by him the little sister dropped his hand to hold her broken flower with both as she eagerly walked into the projection room and went straight to the body slumped by the wall.

Something tugged at Atlas's chest as he watched her delicately place the flower down on the arms dealer's chest with the upmost care.

It was only then that Atlas's mind so generously opened up a door for him. "Valery." He muttered more to himself than anything else. The name he'd been choked of when he first lay there unaware of the EDEN beginning to warp him. He remembered the ghost. Miss White. Valery White.

A friend. In a sense.

Rather than respond to his murmurings, the little sister sat back on her knees, looking over the woman she thought 'sleeping'. She must have been devoid of ADAM or she'd have been an 'angel'.

Atlas snorted. Of course, she wouldn't have spliced. Stubborn as mule to the end. He expected no more.

It seemed the sister was taking her time, Atlas wondered if even in their wonderland they could understand something like loss to some degree. He didn't dig. It would take one cold son of a bitch to try and open a dreaming girl's eyes to that reality. "Why'd your sister send a gift?" He asked instead. Looking for answers even in these small ways.

If he couldn't get his own answers, then he could sure as shit look for others. He hadn't forgotten why Sinclair sent him here in the first place. Looking for answers to do with Valery's work on the Vita-Chambers.

He also had not forgotten where he'd come from.

Humming the sister rocked back on her heels and looked to Atlas, smiling obliviously. "Sweet lady helped to wake daddy up!" She chimed and just by that Atlas knew he'd be doing more decoding from her answers. "Sister Elenore asked her to fix them! Make them work again. He was sleeping for so long."

All of them?

When had they stopped working?

Atlas nearly asked but knew the kid wouldn't have that last answer. It was amazing she had answers at all.

Rather he turned his scrutiny back towards Valery and found that looking at her body was unpleasant. Looking around the projection room he spotted an old oil covered jacket in the corner. Typical. He smiled in a dark, halfhearted sort of way. He could only remember Valery wearing this back in the day.

Seeing her and Sinclair stand at odds had always been a contrast. An amusement.

He felt a pang of…something, knowing he'd have to talk to Sinclair again. Report he found his old colleague and he'd found her in the one of two ways everyone else in Rapture was found. The better of the two, not a splicer.

Taking his first step into the room, Atlas plucked up the jacket and taking it back over to the corpse and sister. The living of the two looked at him in question when he placed the coarse material over Valery. Some part of him felt this insufficient, another part of him thought it a pointless gesture.

Atlas did it all the same.

"Sweet lady looked cold." The sister murmured in approval with another small smile. "All better now."

"Yeah. All better." Atlas echoed, knowing the truth of it but being unable to find the strength to say anything else.

For a moment they both sat there. Atlas feeling the weight of Rapture baring down on him again and the sister watching him. They weren't really little girls but Atlas found they could be eerily like one.

It did not surprise him that Valery had helped this 'Elenore' in some way. She'd worked on these blasted things as far as he knew. Sinclair had some hand in it as well but Atlas's knowledge on the matter was limited – it was a Ryan made machine. He only knew what little he could garner from his men and eventually from Valery herself.

She'd supplied them well when Ryan's tyranny came down on them. Even though she'd flat out denied him the first time. More interested in protecting people than fighting a war. But when push came to shove….well she shoved the hardest.

Now he found her last moments were spent working on these things? Starting them up again? He wondered what would have pushed her to do so. Knew it would a question that couldn't be answered unless he found Elenore and he wasn't keen on anymore distractions from the surface.

He could let one secret lie without losing any sleep he was sure.

Sure, and yet he still asked. "What was she doing before she…went to sleep?"

At this the sister paused, thinking. "Hm…a bad lady was here." She admitted. "But sweet lady turned that nasty woman into an angel!" She claimed a moment later.

Frowning, Atlas repeated the title the sister had given someone he was sure had to be a splicer. "Nasty lady…"

"Ah…she had a pretty red dress but she wasn't very pretty."

Now, Atlas knew coincidence was absolutely a thing that he lived with. But he found it was less often an occurrence in Rapture. A nasty lady in a red dress? That sounded a hell of a lot like Ava.

Clearly it hadn't been Ava he was seeing earlier. No great shock but the confirmation sat heavily with him.

So he asked one more question. "The bad person that was bullying us earlier." He tried to use the little sister's language, a dumbed down, more innocent view of reality. "What'd they look like to you?" Atlas was not proud of the fact a little sister had clearer eyes than he did even while drugs were involved.

"Oh." The sister remarked, sounding surprised. "That was uncle Stanley! He's not so nice anymore."

Well fuck. Atlas thought flatly. Then recalled exactly who Stanley was currently slobbering all over and that this someone was still very much oblivious to who he was running errands for.

With a passion, Atlas thought, well fuck.