Sleep was no easy task for Atlas. It became a battle between his bruised and battered body, determined to have its rightful rest, and the discomfort of the cold, hard floor just barely softened by the provided blanket.

In truth these troubles were the least of his disturbances, what truly got into Atlas's head and made a deep and peaceful slumber impossible was the unease prickling at the back of his mind. His need for security kept him on edge, kept his ears listening for even the slightest sound that would indicate danger, as such his mind never truly shut off and his rest was not as helpful as it ought to have been.

And yet, despite his fitful, shallow slumber, Atlas's mind still found the energy to dream.

The scent of mock-up Sinclair Solutions smoke floated around him. Thin wisps of the replacement vice turning and fading in the air around him and Atlas sat back staring up into the hazy space above him. Clean, crisp, not in pain and too numb to the dreamscape to notice how eerie it was and wake from the illusion, Atlas sat and stared.

"Hey, kiddo." At his side the soft surface he was seated on dipped slightly, the movement only then causing Atlas to take note of the lounge he sat on. "How you doing, sweet thing? Looking a bit tired there, time for sleep, yeah?" A voice cooed but Atlas did not for a moment mistake the words as being directed at him.

Instead his gaze dropped down to a small bundle in his arms. Expression softening as he looked at the baby that only gurgled back up at him in that stupid messy way kids did. His mind suggested this was Patrick but Atlas knew that couldn't be. They were still in Rapture; Patrick was never this young under the seas.

Yet none of this seemed to trouble Atlas at all as he got to his feet. Slipping away from the woman by his side that had spoken to the child and given him direction. Taking the infant over to a crib set by the corner of the room and by a bed. Somewhere safe. Atlas's gaze flicked across the room, seeking out hidden dangers.

The crib was set deep into the room, close to the bed and out of clear sight of the door should it open. A means of ensuring that even if someone were to come with the intent of harming the child - it would be no easy task. They'd need to tear through the mother first to get there.

Still he hesitated, arms curling a bit closer around the babe, unsure if it were truly safe to set it down. To trust his own arms to carry them. The thoughts of uncertainty were dispelled with ease by the woman behind him speaking quietly. "She's a strong babe, just like you were. Don't you worry none."

They would be safe here. For now that was enough and Atlas could once again move.

As he set the baby down into the cot he noticed his arms were covered. Not dirtied by oil and muck from working, the sleeves that hung around his wrists clean and pristine, cuffs rightfully in place. At first something like coherency sparked in his mind, something that almost dragged him from the lull of the blissful anaesthesia the dream provided.

The thoughts were momentary soothed over quickly as a gentle hand laid across his shoulder. Of course he wouldn't want to touch the kid with dirty hands, the mother would have his head if he did.

"Got the same eyes as you did. The poor thing." She told him gently and Atlas had the urge to turn and look at her. To ask why she'd say such a thing, what was wrong with his eyes?

But his body didn't move to follow that instinct, instead his gaze stayed on the child's. Letting it's big blue eyes look right through him and Atlas thought that perhaps it was a sweet thing. This place seemed safe and warm, the woman at his spine while surely not his Moira must have loved this little gal dearly and Atlas couldn't help but smile idly into the thought.

Precious little things in Rapture were hard to come by.

"How long are you going to wait?"

Just like that the sweet numbness turned sharp, Atlas no longer able to coast by without thought. No longer able to sit back and let his body move of its own accord. The voice was not gentle, was not belonging to the woman that had lingered by him.

The warmth that accompanied the brief touch vanished and he felt the hand that touched him retreat sharply as if stung. "That's enough." Her voice cracked like a whip, but there was something fragile beneath the demand. "Leave him be." She insisted by the second voice, one that Atlas knew he recognised had no such intentions.

Instead there was a steadily closing gap and mounting pressure as the unwelcomed third party approached the crib. Somewhere in Atlas's mind there was a wail of protest. This was only a dream. He had no need to give it any power, but it felt as though he was no more in control here than he'd have been in life as a second set of clean fingers curled around the railing of the crib.

"Every breath it takes is one more you let it have."

When that hand traversed into the crib Atlas knew instinctively that if allowed to touch the phantom image would snap the child's fragile little neck. "Shouldn't name what you shouldn't keep." The man remarked coldly, tone resolute even as somewhere behind the increasingly small world the dream contained Atlas could hear the mother shouting something. Pleading perhaps.

"A girl." Atlas listened as the man across from him spoke one more time before his fingers brushed the helpless child's throat. "A baby girl in Rapture…"

The child screamed. Atlas could hear the sound of the baby beginning to bawl as if aware of the danger looming over its bed even before the pain came. Danger that never should have been able to enter its room but was allowed closer with every second of Atlas's inaction.

He'd had enough of that. Enough of his body moving like it didn't even belong to him - for better or for worse. He broke from that numbness and lunged for the unwelcomed entity. Anything to get it away from that crib and to stop that girl's sobbing.

With fingers around the man's neck Atlas was able to knock them both back, well away from the child and down onto the floor. The impact of the intruders back on the floor sent a ripple out across the room and suddenly it was no longer the safe haven he'd viewed it to be.

Ice laced up the sides of the walls, the place where the crib had been empty with only splatters of blood remaining and on the bed there was a still and silent body he'd placed there himself in the past.

Under his hands the mirror image sneered back at him. Cruel and vicious.

"Should 'ave dropped it."

Then it was gone.

The solid weight beneath his fingers vanished in an instant and Atlas crashed to the ground where the man had once been laid prone under him. The room that had been cold and dead around him left in the ruins of a murder he hadn't carried out but no doubt wore the weight of, gave away to crimes he couldn't distance himself from.

Cold traded out for heat Atlas felt the brush of stifling warmth on his skin and before even looking up knew he'd be faced with the fires once again.

But there was nowhere else to go. Nowhere else to turn or look to for a means of hiding. So he was forced to slowly push himself up off the floor, eyes flicking up to catch the scene that burnt itself into his mind long ago.

There on the dirty ground of what had once served as their main headquarters during the war, Atlas was left staring at an old sight. In Rapture's murky, cool colour palette, there was a dot of vibrant red and yellow. The fires rose up high into the city and carried with it an overpowering stench of decay that Atlas had never truly been able to rid himself of. It lingered at the corners of every memory and became unbearable when a child looked at him now.

In the centre of that blaze of orange and gold, there was black. Heaps of little bodies that had been rendered useless by their endeavours and left to be cleaned away in the only way they knew how. In the fires.

Around him shapeless figures moved about, hurrying to carry out demands that had been made in his tongue. No one stopped to take in the results of their conviction. It was as though they were all as void of heart as those corpses were of life.

Distantly he thought he heard some old sentiment he couldn't place an origin to. This world that values children and not childhood.

His world.

A great fatigue washed over Atlas as he sat motionless on the filthy floor, watching a set of hazy, poorly formed silhouettes throw a limb body into the mass. Another wave of that revolting stench flying up into the air as the flames rose a bit higher, feeding on the newest flesh offered to the blaze. Bodies burnt poorly but ADAM did give them such flare.

The first body they'd thrown on was limp. The second they came dragging out was just the same. Heavy and listless as it was hauled on to join the first and catch light with the others. They weren't responsive. They were nothing. Lifeless. Atlas felt little more than a dull acknowledgment that once upon a time perhaps it had been something more alive but it certainly wasn't anymore.

He had only told them to do what they had to do. Those things weren't kids anymore anyway.

Then the third one screamed.

It squirmed and kicked, screamed and cried as the clumsily formed men struggled with its flailing. Their forms not as honest to real life in this world. They slipped and fell apart as the little one kicked, but it was no use. Those little monsters were near indestructible if the slug remained in them - but they were not strong.

They were just….

Just…

"Stop." Atlas croaked, but his voice was weak. Rusty as though it had never been used before rather than once held great power of the people of Rapture. It trembled as he tried to shout out, limbs trembling just as violently as he attempted to force himself up, to just do something. Anything. "I said stop." He tried again but was drowned out by the sound of the roaring flames and the kid's wailing.

Atlas managed only to get to his knees before he was knocked to the ground again. When he hit, unable to rise a second time, there was a voice above his head that taunted him calmly. "This your ideas of setting the record straight?"

And then the dream broke. Atlas felt it blink out of existence as he came back to himself enough to know those fires and voices were not real. Things from the past, but not of now.

What should have been a mercy was anything but.

Cruel as the mind often was, Atlas's dreams were too real. Nothing grand and impossible to give it away when Atlas swore his eyes had flicked open to stare across this rusted floor he lay on. Even though his body felt fuzzy, pins and needles prickling under his skin, he was so sure it was real. That he was awake.

Awake, and unable to move.

Breathing became difficult, air catching in his chest as Atlas looked around the darkness, trying desperately to move something besides his gaze. His body wasn't changing, wasn't responding to his frantic attempts to so much as curl a fist. It also occurred to him that was uncomfortable. Having used his arm as a pillow it became numb in that way that promised soreness when the blood flowed back through it. But he could not even move from that uncomfortable position. Stuck staring around the little area of train he'd been given to sleep in.

The urge the call for help welled up in his chest, catching just below his throat and forming a firm lump there, restricting his voice and keeping him from screaming out.

But what use would screaming have done him really? Atlas imagined that even if he called out he'd go ignored. It was a foolish, baseless assumption but it was also one that felt as real as his paralysis. Irrefutable fact that no one was going to help him.

He had to do everything himself. Ain't no one going to give him a handout.

Panic had set in a good few minutes earlier but it began to climb aggressively when Atlas finally did hear something.

The echoes of screaming sounded so similar to that of his dream. Enough that Atlas feared he was just going to get swallowed up into more nightmares. But the longer he lay there, the clearer those sounds became, the closer it seemed, until finally there was one last shrill scream that cracked through Atlas's mind like a whip and pulled him gasping from all of sleep's clutches.

He'd heard a scream he knew. The kid with that particular accent that had been clutching his hand like a lifeline not twenty four hours earlier. He knew how her voice sounded when afraid, little sister or no, and she was screaming out for help now.

In an instant all traces of sleep flew from him mind, body and soul. Atlas lunged upright, the blanket he'd just barely managed to use to soften his rest kicked aside as he launched from his prone position on the ground and out the door. Only just catching a glimpse of what looked like a set of shoes standing where he'd been laying a second earlier.

If he'd stopped and let it eat at him Atlas would have recognised those as the same shoes of the mocking voice in his dreams. But as it was, he ran.

Atlas, in his haste, struck the wall opposite his little room as he flung himself into the train corridor. Just behind him Atlas heard more commotion, a distinctly thick voice belonging to Tenebaum calling out in alarm. In question or demand he couldn't tell, didn't stop to pay her any more mind than the illusions in his mind.

Instead he barged down the length of the train, following the sound of the girl's screaming back to the room he'd left both her and Delta in earlier that night.

A decision he began to regret. But how was he to know anything could happen? He'd left her with Delta. Delta who could protect any one of them. Who was the strongest and the kindest son of a bitch he'd met in years down here.

Delta, who was spilling red light into the darkness and shaking the train with the thunderous way he roared.

Skidding to a halt once he hit the threshold of the girl's makeshift bedroom, Atlas struggled to catch up with what he was seeing. A violent mass of metal and red light loomed before him, the drill attached to the beasts arm whirling into life with a razor sharp grind. Atlas could barely process what he was looking at, but that was definitely Delta.

A flash of the mark engraved into the plate lashed across his hand marked him as such. This was no replacement or intruding big daddy model, that was their boy that bellowed and banged against the sides of the train, shaking the whole thing to the point Atlas feared they'd be thrown of the rails.

When Delta struck the train again, no longer attempting to be careful as he'd been earlier while trying not to shake the train with his heavy steps, Atlas ended up thrown off balance and needed to brace himself against the doorway just to keep upright.

Hastily Atlas scrambled to see everything he needed to see. The dangerous he'd found even if he did not comprehend it, an exit was what he stood in, but the most important thing left to find was one the other side of the room.

Huddled together and trembling were all four of their girls. Their little forms looking just as fragile as the babe in his dreams had been. Between the four of them Atlas could see the girl he'd brought here in the first place hugging herself to the other two girls that crouched down by her. There was no distance between them despite not knowing one another and just as there was no distance in their terrified clutching, of the four the eldest girl stood firm between her sisters and their supposed guardian.

Protective even as her little arms and legs shook so terribly it seemed like she could hardly stand let alone stand up for them. But she hadn't budged an inch.

Between Atlas and those terrified girls was Delta, who Atlas did not even recognise currently.

Another thundering roar from Delta and Atlas was out of wiggle room. He could not tell if the movements of the big daddy were intended to be violent towards those huddled girls, but with the blind, rampaging state of the metal beast there was every chance it just wouldn't matter.

Bracing himself a little more firmly against the sturdy wall, Atlas found his footing once again and with a deep breath pushed himself forward. Better not to think on this one. If he stopped to think he'd no doubt imagine how that drill might look poking out of his ribcage and lose his nerve.

Instead he looked at those girls once more and by chance happened to catch the wide, desperate brown eyes belonging to the girl he'd already saved once or twice - what was one more time on top of that?

It was only once Atlas's pounding footsteps got close enough for the man to reach the enraged beast that he was noticed by Delta. In this tiny space there was practically nowhere that Atlas could go but even in this space he moved with greater ease than Delta. As the big daddy swung it's massive hulking weight around to try and catch it's attacker head on, Atlas only needed to change his angle slightly to dive right down across Delta's side as he staggered and planted the drill into the ground towards his opposite side.

The miss was calculated as was the risk but despite having anticipated Delta's movements well enough to avoid harm and create an opening, Atlas's heart rate still skyrocketed, knowing that any missed step would spell a quick and gruesome death. It would be incredibly fucking poor manners of him to get disembowelled in front of the kids.

Right. "Come on you great lumbering idiot!" Atlas snarled, voice full of mock confidence and antagonism that felt truly wrong being thrown at Delta. But it was also wrong for Delta to be throwing his drill at him so Atlas pushed it aside.

Another low sound came rumbling out of Delta, some indescribable rage that set ice to Atlas's veins. What the hell had happened to that sweet kid? He'd been tortured and torn apart, sure, but Delta had never been like this.

Before his thoughts could get any further Delta found his footing once again and turned for Atlas, neither was directly in front of the girls now, Atlas's only true thought being that if he could just get between them or create and opening he could somehow magically win this situation.

Truly it was flawed thinking but he could still hear the girls crying from off to the side and his resolve went nowhere.

Atlas flexed his fingers, seeking the same heat that he'd found when fighting off Stanley. His veins seemed to ache, dissatisfied with the level of EVE Atlas was giving them to work with while trying to conjure up fire. Atlas pushed harder and when the light came flooding out from under his skin with searing heat - he felt it as viscerally as he'd felt that splicer light him up. He was being punished for his insistence with pain but Atlas back down neither to that agony nor the screaming big daddy before him.

This time Atlas was the one that had to move in response to Delta. Having such an intimidating force fling itself at you in a rush that Atlas recognised, as a frequently used manoeuvre for Delta, was not easy to work through. Fear shot through Atlas but the adrenaline the kick brought with it managed to help keep Atlas alert and moving. Delta charged him and Atlas was just able to duck aside what would have been a lethal strike through his skull had it landed.

As he skipped and skidded back trying to keep a close eye on Delta and remain out of reach, Atlas used all the heat he had available to him and forced his hand down on Delta's back. Wishing he could better seek out the human flesh under all that metal, looking for Delta's bare neck. If he could just strike something vulnerable he could put the guy down.

Put down could mean one of two things and if it turned out Atlas needed to kill Delta to keep him on the ground then they were shit out of luck because he was going to do just that.

For his efforts Atlas was rewarded with an ear splitting scream from Delta, he'd done damage but not nearly enough.

It's not enough. A voice hissed in Atlas's head as he feverishly tried to summon up more heat. You need more than some fire.

But what else was there? He didn't have any weapons on him, having run from his slumber so suddenly, he didn't even have any plasmids to choose from. It was that thought which seemed to stick in his mind along side that voice that so barely seemed to be his own. You need more.

Stupidly Atlas lingered a beat too long, hoping to see that he'd hurt Delta enough to stop him from moving if only for a second. Instead what he got was a sturdy fist to the gut as Delta twisted and lashed out at him.

The strike tossed Atlas off his feet and he hit the wall at his side with what he was sure was a bone shattering force. The air was knocked out of him with a dull thud and Atlas went limp in an instant. Gagging just to try and bring air back into his lungs. The ache set in quickly and Atlas could feel his stomach convulsing, trembling as his body attempted to process that hit.

The wall he'd been slammed against was the one right by the girls and he felt little hands grabbing at his shoulder, shaking him. He didn't know if the kid was trying to get him to stand and fight a bit more of if she was trying to make sure he was alive. Either way their chances weren't exactly stunning.

Blearily Atlas reached out with one arm, able to roughly guess where the girls were judging by those insistent tugs at his sleeve and put them a bit behind him even as he remained hunched and panting. His eyes were watering and Atlas was trying to stop from vomiting but through all that he forced one eye to crack back open. Red light met his hazy vision. Delta's drill a blur from the corner of his sight and Atlas could only think that was probably going to hurt a hell of a lot before it abruptly stopped.

Truthfully, Atlas wasn't looking forward to returning to that nothingness.

But there was no burst of pain, nor following nothingness. Just the girls huddled behind his pathetic attempt to protect them and then Sinclair's voice ringing out.

"Chief." Sinclair's tone was one of apprehension. The voice of someone forcing words through their teeth on the vain hope they'd do some good. A true businessman. "You hearing me, kid?" He asked slowly but all Atlas could think was that Sinclair was being fucking stupid.

"Augustus-" He breathed the man's name out only to wince when his whole body spasmed with a moment of pain, he wondered if Delta had broken something in him. A rib or something. Hopefully just a rib. Gritting his teeth past the pain, Atlas tried again. "Auggie...fuck- don't." Atlas tried to warn, tried to tell the fucking idiot to get the hell out of there.

When he managed to locate Augustus through his dizzy vision Atlas could see the man standing where he'd once been in the doorway. Likely making a similar assessment to the one he'd made. Ha. That was a bit funny, seeing how he'd charged in hoping to get the girls out of this tight spot and only ended up here himself. Seemed about fucking right.

However, when Augustus looked at him there was something like shock in his face, like Atlas had said something strange. As though it was so strange to tell someone not to do anything suicidal. Christ. But then just as quickly turned his attention back to Delta, though he took no steps closer to the situation.

Somewhere behind him Tenenbaum was no doubt lingering. Completely helpless in this situation. She'd die for these girls but that's all she'd be doing if she rushed in now. Tenenbaum was no fighter.

"Hey there, champ. You with me here?" Augustus tried again and must have taken the lack of instant death as a sign that he was getting somewhere.

Delta was no longer screaming and thrashing about, but the drill was yet to power down. If anything the big daddy only seemed confused. Body swaying to and thro with the occasional shake of his head, hand pressed up to his helmet like he could actually feel that contact. Maybe it was just a habit from when he was still helmetless to rub at his temples like that.

Ever so slowly Sinclair stepped into the room, looking as though he'd like to be literally anywhere else currently, but also knowing that this was the best chance he had at making this situation settle. "Take some deep breaths for me kid, ya just having yourself a small episode." Augustus explained like he was holding a friendly discussion with some panicked kid.

Well Atlas couldn't speak for Delta but he was feeling pretty fucking panicked right now.

And yet it seemed that Delta was in fact listening to Sinclair. Slowly the drill powered down and the red glow of his light flickered in and out. Switching between red, yellow and then finally a steady green before turning colourless once again. Leaving only a faint glow behind and no longer lighting the train cart up like it was bathed in blood.

A few tense seconds passed before Sinclair took another step closer to Delta's still form. "You with me, chief?" Augustus asked more quietly and eventually

Delta nodded slightly. His broad shoulders dropping as if exhausted beyond measure. Atlas only distantly managed to watch the exchange, well aware that he was on his way to passing out. He'd gotten rather painfully used to that over the past few days.

With the danger seemingly passed Atlas was able to let his own body go limp, arm dropping down to his side as he gave a belated cough, air still struggling to pull back into his lungs. He'd only just started to get over all his physical aches and pains and now he was back to square one.

Once the violence had passed Tenenbaum came rushing in and called the girls to her hastily. They went and Atlas could feel them passing him. All he felt was relief knowing he was no longer the one in charge of minding their butts. Better he be left to wallow in his own self pity for a moment before he had the energy to lose his shit over whatever that had just been. He had questions. But they were for later, when he had the strength and care enough to ask them.

Perhaps he'd have lost consciousness right then and there had it not been for that same little hand clutching his a bit more tightly. Ah, right. Apparently on kid hadn't rushed off at the doctor's call. He'd known this one longer than Tenenbaum had anyway.

Atlas opened his eyes once more and saw that now familiar set of brown eyes staring back at him. He distantly noted that the eyes of the babe in his dream were blue. That was both a comfort and somehow saddening.

"Atlas..?" She spoke quietly, anxiously, and Atlas realised he'd never heard her just say his name. Now she looked at him and spoke like she was afraid more so of what he might say than the whole ordeal that had landed them here. Like he might just blink out of existence if she spoke too loudly.

A touch offensive, after the seven layers of hell he went through protecting her already Atlas thought he was entitled to a bit more credibility. He wasn't going to break that easily.

"Still 'ere, kid." He grunted, a wince passing through his whole body as his ribs protested near constantly. But he noticed the terrified, trembling force with which the girl still clung to his hand and the way her bottom lip seemed to be trembling. Ah fuck, he knew that look. Knew a kid about to cry when he saw one.

"C'mere." He muttered, hand lifting up to pull the girl down against his shoulder seeing as she was already huddling next to him, he might as well offer her some comfort. If only to stop her from sobbing and worsening his headache. "It's all good now. Relax."

There was almost no possible chance in hell that she believed him, but regardless she'd settled by his side, still holding his hand and Atlas made a small effort to squeeze back. Just to stop her from crying, that was all.

"Beatrice."

Atlas frowned and opened one eye slightly again to look down at the girl, questioning.

"My name." She clarified after a second, looking almost embarrassed. "It's Beatrice. So you don't have to keep calling me kid."

Briefly something warm filled Atlas's sore chest. Maybe that was blood. Maybe he was just going to drown in the stuff internally and that's what he was feeling. Probably that.

"Whatever you say, kid." He answered with a faint smirk and let his eyes close again. One day he was going to get that good nights sleep, but apparently it wasn't going to be today either, so he settled for a few seconds to breathe while Sinclair and Tenenbaum figured out the heavy lifting.

He could question all this later when he wasn't aching quite so bad and the girl by his side felt safe enough that she stopped trembling.