Setting out with Atlas not at his side felt strange.
Delta knew that logically he'd spent most of his life, hazy as the memories were, without companionship during adventures. He'd ventured out in search of Atlantis and discovered Rapture alone and now he was back to traversing it alone once again.
But the space left by Atlas's absence after having gotten so used to having him around felt endlessly vast.
Sinclair did his best to fill it, perhaps to draw attention away from his part in having caused it. Yet he was still absolutely against explaining what had happened between the two of them to cause such a rift.
The whole thing seemed impossibly childish to Delta. He tried to keep in mind that he didn't understand the depths to what this betrayal meant to Sinclair. That he didn't even begin to grasp the history he and this Fontaine person apparently had.
But a small, petulant, part of him tossed all that context aside and kept pushing a very simple point.
You know Atlas now. Isn't that enough?
Delta knew he was being purposefully naive with such a thought but...wasn't Rapture full of enough bitterness and regret already? It wouldn't kill Sinclair to try seeing the world in a brighter light. Then again, it was difficult to see the bright side so many league beneath the waves.
Sighing Delta tried to focus back on his final tasks before setting out again.
He'd used what supplies they had to bandage himself up and restock on ammunition and food. With his drill fully fueled again and a spare EVE hypo on hand, he was left packing away the last of his medical and food supplies.
It was a relatively easy task, one he'd gotten used to quickly after awakening in Rapture. But he was slower than usual while being plagued with pestering thoughts of arguing children and men hiding behind a hundred different faces.
"Here."
Surprised by the sound of Sinclair's voice coupled with something small being pushed under his line of sight, Delta broke from his thoughts. Glancing up he found Augusts waiting expectantly for him to take the little thing he offered.
"Now, I know it isn't much of a good luck charm but it's about all you're going to find around these parts nowadays. One of the little ladies left it with me for when you'd be back. Reckon it belongs with you more than me 'o course."
The doll was...well Delta thought it was supposed to be him. He frowned as he regarded the patchwork toy. It hardly seemed safe for the girls to be keeping. Littered with sharp bits of wire forcefully bent into shapes that somewhat resembled his drill and armour. Its limp baseball head was probably the silliest thing about it and despite knowing he wouldn't be letting any of the little ones play with it again, Delta couldn't help but find it just a bit endearing despite its...hazardous make up.
"Not sure they they quite got your likeness down. Don't suppose you were ever much of a baseball player by chance?"
Sinclair tried for a smile but it didn't quite reach his usual jovial tone. Delta wanted to encourage him but found himself not in spirits all that much higher to Sinclair's.
Instead he simply took the offered doll.
There was no evidence one way or the other but...he was positive this had been made by his daughter. It was a bittersweet thought. Imagining the little homemade doll keeping Eleanor company while she waited for him to come home.
A shallow comfort, but a reminder that his father would come home to her.
While Delta dwelled on what life for his daughter must have been like, Sinclair's mind seemed to have found its way to uncomfortable ruminations of his own.
"You know…" Sinclair began with a soft chuckle. "Ol' Andy never could stand me bein' right about this place, but he was a clever old thing."
Every word Sinclair spoke was slow, deliberate and entirely unsure of himself. Delta couldn't have interrupted to ask him what was on his mind to make him so introspective even if he wanted to. So Sinclair surged onwards with what he needed to say. Speaking like he'd practiced it beforehand.
"Always knew he needed me in this here little captive think tank, so we kept in business. Right up until Lamb came to darken my doorstep o'course. She carried a whole lotta clout with those wild idealistic types. I didn't stand much of a chance by the time she ousted me, got me reduced to a go-between until things got real out of hand around the rest of the city and then...then I had to go calling up favours from old friends. Never thought I'd be a couch bug but…" Sinclair sighed and stopped short.
Delta watched as the man's gaze turned down to the gun that had scarcely left his grip since Atlas had been forced away from them. He watched as Augustus seemed to mentally berate himself into silence and wondered sadly if there was someway he could express to Sinclair that he didn't need to do that. Push down whatever moment of vulnerability he was feeling.
For as avidly as Sinclair rejected Atlas earlier, they two had an awful lot in common. Delta wasn't sure he'd have noticed the way Sinclair lied about and to himself were it not for seeing Atlas do the same thing.
He certainly wouldn't have acquainted it with misery had he not known Atlas.
But to Delta it seemed so very obvious now. Atlas and Sinclair, both, were such melancholy men.
In a soft gesture, Delta lifted his hand to Sinclair. Attempting to urge him on, to say what was so clearly on his mind. It took a moment as Sinclair glanced between the upturned palm and his helmet. Struggling for how to say what he needed to say without putting himself out there.
"What I mean to tell you, chief is...we all had a certain way about us back in the day. Ryan, Fontaine, even…" Again he paused by this time pushed on through whatever wall he'd struck. "Even Jackie and yours truly."
For as much as Delta did not want to throw Sinclair off track and cause him to lock up again he did tip his head to the side. Not sure he'd heard the name Jackie before. Even the name Fontaine - albeit more troubling given he understood it to be a complicated connection to Atlas - was new to him. He couldn't really remember the world that Sinclair did. Before Rapture was rust and rot.
Still, Sinclair surged on all the same. Fingers dug into his crossed arms as he forced through the words quickly, as if losing momentum would stop him dead in his tracks.
"Sure we all had our own ways. I liked to think I was particularly charming in how I conducted myself. But...at the core of it, we all just ran a business. I ran this penal colony just the same, an' pretty successfully at that. No hard feelings meant but...listen, sport, I…"
Delta wished he had a voice so he could stop Sinclair there.
To tell him they could talk later, that all history could be put on hold for the present.
He was not a fool nor was he deaf. Even if he couldn't speak himself, everyone else did so much talking for him.
Delta knew that Sinclair likely had a hand in his predicament. It was almost impossible for Sinclair not to hold some responsibility. Maybe back when he'd been Johnny he even knew the man that Sinclair had been. He couldn't say for sure with his memories in such disarray. But he did know Sinclair as he was now - and perhaps that was for the best.
So Delta placed a hand on Sinclair's shoulder, squeezing slightly and stopping him short. Confused, Augustus looked to him for answers he couldn't quite vocalise. So, as always he had to improvise. In this case he took the small doll of himself and pressed it into Sinclair's hands.
It was not the communication of words that Sinclair so fancied, but it came close to the understanding Delta had shared with Atlas.
In disbelief Sinclair let out a breath of laughter and closed his fingers around the raggedly little toy.
"Until you're back, right?" he mused. "Alright, sport. We'll reschedule that chat for above the waves will we?"
Satisfied with this Delta gave a small nod. Dropping his hand away from Sinclair's, Delta turned and opened up the train car door. It was about time he got going.
"The missus and I will be waiting right here for you, chief. Looking forward to introducing her to little Eleanor as well. Not that she seems so little anymore."
This time when Sinclair tried for that cheery smile, it reached his eyes despite his obvious fatigue and Delta didn't feel the urge to comfort him anymore.
"And I'll be there with you every step of the way." Sinclair assured sternly only to pause and then amend lightly, "...you know, in spirit and all that."
Delta was at last truly able to muster a huff of laughter for him in response. They could part on a kind note this time.
Sinclair might have been less happy with him had he known Delta's thoughts on what was to come. He'd likely to exception to quite a few of Delta's plans.
First and foremost that if he happened to run into a certain Irishman - fake or otherwise - he'd be dragging the man back with him. Atlas and Sinclair could bicker like children all the way to the surface as far as he was concerned. Delta would not be abandoning either of them down here.
While the topic of Atlas was a contentious one, it was also not what might have confused Sinclair and Tenebaum the most about Delta's intentions.
There was the matter of his survival pitted against that of Demo's.
Single minded in his determination, Delta set out into Rapture alone. The train doors closed behind him and, hopefully, meaning the rest of them would be safe until he returned. They were expecting that he would in fact return to them. At the small cost of killing Demo and finding Eleanor.
Neither of those were small asks and Delta knew that Tenebaum harboured more doubts about their odds than she was willing to admit aloud. She doubted his resolve to kill Demo, that much was clear. However, she was thinking about the situation in vastly different terms to Delta. She saw it as a great burden, Delta did not.
Even if this was just another in a long line of dead ends in their efforts to save him from the madness of an abandoned Alpha Series, it wouldn't matter.
Raw, concentrated, special, prototype - whatever the ADAM inside of Demo was, it didn't mean much of anything to him.
Delta wasn't setting out to find the cure to his affliction, he was setting out to find Walter.
Tenebaum had said this was the thing that would save him. At the cost of someone she and everyone else considered to already be dead. Atlas, or whoever this Fontaine fellow was, had scolded him for chasing ghosts when he last met Demo. There was no one to kill if the person inside was long gone. That was the sentiment that they all seemed to be offering to him. Thinking that they were easing the burden of what had to be done for survival for him.
But this was never about survival.
This was about love.
This was about his family. This was about Delta doing what Johnny hadn't been able to, and saving Walter from the Demo's shell.
He could not express this to those around him. Left unable to explain to Sinclair and Tenebaum that they didn't need to offer him pitying side long glances and empty platitudes about mercy killings. Delta did not need something to ease his conscience so he could do this, he had to do it in order to keep his conscience clear.
Atlas had spoken of ghosts with a sort of fear that Delta couldn't quite comprehend, but Johnny did not feel Walter haunting him. Part of him longed for it, for some indication that even now, Walter would have come back to him even in death.
But Walter wasn't dead. He was waiting.
And Delta needed to find him.
…
…
The voice was awfully quiet now.
Eleanor watched silently as the man came shuffling back to the ADAM reserves. Notably more drained than when he'd left and he'd not left in particularly high spirits to begin with.
Perhaps they had some fault in this. Eleanor didn't address what had happened with the feral splicers in the depths of Persephone. Atlas had expressed quite clearly that he did not want to discuss the situation and he had left topics well enough alone for their benefit in the past.
Still, something close to guilt weighed on them.
They'd chosen not to interject with Atlas when he called on them earlier. It was a decision they'd made out of no maliciousness, but a simple, clinical need to know.
There were parts of them that had once been studious and curious minds, and others that had been blatant stickybeaks. It was hard to know who exactly prompted the desire to observe now, but Eleanor had been compelled by those parts of themselves strongly enough to fall silent with Atlas when had sought direction.
Watching Atlas had become almost second nature even before the ADAM link they'd provided him. He'd been with Father for almost the entirety of his journey and Eleanor had just started to observe him to the same degree that they had Delta.
Sometimes looking to see how he responded to certain choices and other times just bemused with some of the absolute nonsense that came out of the Irishman's mouth.
They'd learned more about the man that had once been Fontaine than they could have expected. The audio diaries and hazy memories of former workers of his didn't really do justice the wretched mess he was.
The matter of observation aside, Eleanor had also merely needed to know what he would do when presented with a situation of that nature.
Granted, they could not have condemned Atlas had he chosen to walk away, but it remained a relief when he'd gone back for the woman. Even though it ended tragically, Eleanor had been pleased with Atlas's actions.
Additionally, there was simply nothing that they could have reasonably done even if they'd chosen to answer him.
Unwilling to leave the reserves for fear Uncle would already be on his way through the catacombs to find them. The patch job they and the little ones had done for him was holding up better than expected and Eleanor didn't think that they'd be able to overcome him even without their mother's influence.
That reluctance to leave the reserves had left Atlas alone to his own devices and while Elanore had been sure he would survive the experience, they couldn't have known it would become an emotional trial for him.
Regardless… It proved comforting.
Atlas was an oddity, much like themselves in a way, he was a man that ought not to exist. He seemed to think much the same. His attempts at survival almost seemed reflexive, like if he stopped to consider what he was doing for too long he'd lay himself down in front of a rosie.
While the self loathing was certainly...troubling, it was equally reassuring. It meant that his foundations, corrupted as they may have been, were not his entirety. Still, Eleanor thought he could do to tone it down just a little bit.
Distantly they wondered what Fontaine might truly be like without the addition of Atlas.
They'd repelled him before for the sake of keeping Atlas on track when time was running thin but… well, Eleanor could no more stop time's arrow than they could cure ADAM degradation in their father's body.
For that they needed Uncle.
Unable to help themselves, Eleanor let out a soft sigh that Atlas picked up on.
He was dumping the last of their new suit to the ground when he heard the exhaustion. They caught a brief expression of anger on his face before it became something more amicable.
Eleanor didn't need to be in his head to hear the, 'Oh you're the tired one here?'
They couldn't help but chuckle softly before offering up a means of explanation. "Thank you for the suit. It should be enough to get us to Father but, well I don't imagine the task will be easy. Let alone pleasant."
"Welcome to Rapture." Atlas groused and while he was right in his sentiment, Eleanor knew he didn't fully understand.
"Demo's suit is thicker than this one's armour." they reminded.
Atlas reacted like he'd been slapped. Looking to them with an expression of abject horror.
"You're going to take on that thing?"
Eleanor took some offence on Uncle's part to the way Atlas stressed the word thing.
It was a pointless hill to die on, but Demo had been a link to their father that helped keep their spirits up through the years. Defending his honour was almost instinctual by now. Although, Eleanor felt that bond had turned poisonous now that Delta was here and Demo was a necessary trade off.
Briefly their skin crawled with disgust. Directed entirely inwards at the thought of 'necessary sacrifice' - that had always been their mother's way of thinking. Eleanor wanted to reject it but they were not blind to how their mother lived on in them. Not entirely unlike that of the many other minds they bore the burden of.
In fact, they'd not even remembered to be horrified by sacrificial people until their father had returned. They would not have thought much of the death of a stray splicer or mad man standing in the way, had it not been for Father's efforts to cling to compassion and empathy. Watching had helped to remind them that he never believed in people as expendable.
Certainly not family of all people.
Well, the voice may have helped with that lesson too.
Watching their father and Atlas together over the past few days had been enlightening and Eleanor felt closer to the person they had wanted to be before the first of the experiments started.
"There's no way around it." Eleanor explained quietly, not watching for Atlas's expressions anymore as they got to adorning their new suit.
Atlas's son's armour.
Eleanor wondered if the man thought of it as plainly as that or if he was still running from the word 'son' in his head. What funny mental blocks he put up, or maybe it was the mind lurking beneath Atlas's that still refused to let those walls down.
"Uncle is the last functional prototype Big Daddy in Rapture, without his purified ADAM variant Father will continue to decline."
In truth Eleanor had not really planned for so many hitches in this whole thing. It was childish of them to assume that simply bringing Delta back through Valery's Vita-Chambers would be the end of their troubles. Valery had been one of the many necessary sacrifices made before Eleanor was reminded not to think of human life as such. Now they felt the bitter guilt of Valery's loss. She'd been a fine woman till the end…
Eleanor couldn't say for sure, but there were brief moments where they thought they could catch glimpses of Valery's likeness in the glow of a Vita-Chamber. If that was how their memories and guilt chose to manifest, it was a small price to pay.
Regardless, Atlas had been their first unexpected hitch. But he turned out to be rather beneficial in the long run.
Said hitch currently seemed uncomfortable with the topic at hand. Downright fidgeting while Eleanor worked on their new gloves.
"But isn't Demo, I mean wasn't he...you know."
"Yes. He was." Eleanor bit the reply out a bit too harshly. It wasn't the voice that had put their father and uncle in this position.
That little crowning achievement belonged to the conman left on the train.
A problem for later, Eleanor was undecided on what would happen to Augustus Sinclair at the end of all of this. Though they did not hold much hope for their collective feelings on him to turn merciful by the time they came face to face. Despite their best efforts to be as forgiving as Father appeared to be.
Taking a deep breath, Eleanor tried to go on a little less bitterly while tightening the straps of the drill into place.
"The man that was our uncle has long been buried under Mother and Alexander's conditioning. If he is not dead already then he is undoubtedly horrified by his current condition and… there is no world in which he would choose to live like this at the cost of Father."
It would be little consolation, Eleanor knew that. But they'd also known long before enlisting Valery's help that Delta could not survive if Demo lived on. They'd come to terms with what had to happen and now could only hope desperately that they were right about Walter's wishes.
They wished desperately for Delta's guidance on this. Surely Father would know best what Uncle would want.
Atlas was quiet, sizing them up no doubt. Looking for the same sorrows and horrors that he had etched into his own heart in theirs. They no doubt showed in abundance.
Finally he asked, very softly, "Hey kid...how old are you?"
Eleanor let out a surprised bark of laughter. Age was a bit of a strange concept to them when they were not the only person in this body. But, well, the body still had age and Eleanor still knew their birthday. Even if only the other little sisters had ever thought to celebrate it with them.
"Hardly a child anymore, seventeen."
"Basically a fucking toddler." Atlas corrected hotly and Eleanor knew his anger was once again directed at their mother.
Shrugging, Eleanor returned to securing the last of the valves and straps of the suit. Smiling now as Atlas huffed and puffed indignantly about the injustices done to them as a child. Eleanor didn't disagree with him of course, it was just quite obvious that he was projecting over Fontaine's own actions towards the boy.
"Regardless of how old the body is, thanks to mother's experiments there's no real way to consider age mentally anymore. There's too many of us floating around in here."
"You're still just a kid."
Clearly Atlas was not going to let up on this point.
"You talk all swanky, sure, and you're scary as shit when you're fighting. But none of that makes an adult out of you."
Deciding there was no harm in indulging his ranting Eleanor asked, "And what does?"
"Sore knees."
After a short pause, Eleanor laughed good and hard that time and even Atlas begrudgingly let a smile slip.
Once the laughter subsided Eleanor felt warmer inside but it only pushed them to narrow in on something they'd hesitated on addressing.
"You should come with us."
Atlas tensed up and the refusal was obvious in his guilty expression before he even voiced it. So Eleanor didn't give him the chance.
"We know you're only down here because you were running from family." Again Atlas flinched but Eleanor didn't let up. Atlas wasn't going to cut the shit, so they helped him with it.
"You make a big show about going out on your own and being rejected, but you found us anyway. You don't want this key, you did this for Father."
"Look, kid, ya family don't want me back and I can't blame them for that."
"Did you ask them that?"
"Sinclair made his feelings on the matter pretty crystal clear."
"Yes, because surely you both sat down and had a nice, long, rational conversation about it all."
"...okay I know you didn't get this fucking attitude from Delta."
Eleaor's answering grin was mirthless. No, Delta had never been the snarky type from what they'd heard. Walter on the other hand, most certainly.
If they were going to be part of his legacy, Eleanor wouldn't apologise for that attitude.
Groaning Atlas waved them off dismissively, taking a few steps away like that would end the conversation all at once. Eleanor knew if they continued to press him he would likely retreat. It was too soon to be making demands of him. His hands were still shaking and the blood from a mercy killing still caked on his face. They needed to give him time if they were to deliver him back to Delta.
That didn't make it easy when he was being such a damn coward.
Frustrated, Eleanor pushed to their feet, testing the weight of the new gear in the process. "When you figure out who you are, come find us."
"That's rich coming from the walking identity crisis."
The words came too quickly to be genuinely considered, and immediately after he'd spoken them Atlas looked mortified. His regret and guilt so palpable and self indulgent that Eleanor couldn't keep a lip on their anger this time.
"We know who we are!"
"Eleanor, I didn't mean-"
"You never know what you mean, voice!" Eleanor cut in sharply, jabbing their finger into Atlas's chest like they could direct him to the root of all his problems.
"We are Eleanor. We might be multitudes, we might not understand every since aspect of ourselves, but we know exactly who we are. Which is more than can be said for you. Be Atlas, be Fontaine, be neither. Just figure it out and stop fetisising your own misery like that's going to do the heavy lifting of redemption for you!"
"And what if I'm Fontaine?" Atlas hissed back, like that might put a stop to the whole thing. "What if I'm the monster? What then?"
Eleanor didn't hesitate, securing Big Brother's helmet in place before leveling Atlas with a scowl that they didn't doubt came clearly through the porthole.
"Then you figure it the fuck out from here, Frank."
The voice opened his mouth to protest the name but Eleanor knew better than him that there was nothing to protest.
"If the ghosts from the past call to you, then follow them back to it. You've chosen to stay dead from the moment Valery revived the Vita-Chambers. Perhaps you ought to show her more thanks by putting your big boy pants on and learn how to actually live."
Eleanor might see Valery's flicker in the glow of the Vita-Chamber glass, but they were not hounded and called to by the dead. They could not force Atlas to see the difference between fading away with those past and living beside them.
"Live or die, make up your mind and stop lingering between the two."
With that Eleanor slammed down the 'key' and marched out the iron gate, jerking them shut behind them. Leaving Atlas to the ADAM reserves which he never really wanted. It was up to him what he did from there.
Still for as angry as Eleanor was - they hoped he'd choose them in the end and find his way back home. But they couldn't do that for him. They had family waiting on them too.
Uncle was waiting and Father needed them.