Disclaimer: I don't own Bioshock or any of the characters

Stanley groaned, his head threatening to split open with each throbbing pulse of pain that shot through it. It was like having an angry bouncer trying to break its way out of his skull. For the life of him, he couldn't remember why he had such a terrible headache.

Was it booze? It was booze wasn't it. Wouldn't be the first time he'd gone a bit overboard with the drinking. Strange though. If he'd been drinking, wouldn't he be able to taste it? Getting drunk left a very memorable aftertaste. On that note, how the heck did he manage to get his hands on alcohol? Had one of the guards given it to him?

No, wait a minute. He didn't have to worry about the guards anymore. He'd escaped. That's right; he'd slipped away when the idiots had their backs turned. But then…

Stanley's eyes shot open. He cringed at the sudden flare of pain that the action brought, but right now that was the least of his concerns.

"Ah, good. You're awake. I was starting to worry Jericho had hit you a bit too hard."

He was sitting in a chair, or more accurately tied in one. His arms and legs were bound tight with rope. Seated directly across from him was a man he didn't recognize, and on either side of the figure were some of the meanest looking splicers he'd seen in recent memory.

"Crap…"

To his left, Stanley's right, were a pair of tall men who observed him with mixed expressions. The shorter of the two had a sadistic grin plastered over his features, idly tapping a length of pipe against his leg. The shirtless one simply glared down at him with undisguised contempt. What was his problem?

Opposite those two was a grisly looking brute. Half of the freak's face was nothing more than a mass of scar tissue, stretching his image into a permanent snarl. It made for one heck of an intimidation tactic, that was for sure.

The sitting splicer, he had to be a splicer with the predatory edge his gaze possessed, crossed his legs casually while letting a small smile emerge on his face.

"Are you comfortable mister Poole? I'd advise you to speak up if you aren't. This is going to be a fairly long conversation, and I simply can't abide interruptions."

A nervous chuckle bubbled up from Stanley's chest. He didn't know what was going on, and that made this infinitely more dangerous. These guys didn't look like the average, run of the mill Adam scroungers. They were here with a purpose.

"L-Listen fellas." He started, doing his best to avoid looking his interrogator in the eye. "I think we may have started off on the wrong foot here. I don't want any trouble; I'm just a harmless passerby. Look, if you could just let me out I'll be off and you won't ever have to worry about me again. Sound good?"

As the man's grin grew wider, Stanley realized one very important factor. He'd addressed him as 'mister Poole'. He knew his name. That wasn't good.

"Now, now." He said, shaking his head in feigned disappointment. "I think we both know that you're far from harmless mister Poole. Those poor souls in Dionysus Park can attest to that."

The statement turned his blood to ice.

"I-I d-don't-"

"Stanley Poole." The man said, cutting him off while inspecting his own fingernails as though he had done this many times in the past. "Former reporter for the Rapture Tribune. Prior to the civil war that tore this city apart, Andrew Ryan came to you with an offer. Infiltrate Lamb's group of followers. You became head of Dionysus Park and abused your position to throw massive gatherings at her expense. When a certain young girl threatened to expose your merrymaking to Lamb she mysteriously disappeared, reappearing a short time later as the gatherer bonded to one 'Subject Delta'."

This was bad. Really really bad.

"I-I-"

"Later you found out that Lamb had escaped from her incarceration, and flooded the Park. Killing anyone who might have brought your corruption to light." He continued, plowing over the trembling man's words as though he hadn't even heard him. "After a close encounter with Delta, you went into hiding. Laying low. Staying away from any who might still hold a grudge. Until a certain young splicer happened to stumble across your hiding spot that is…"

"How…" It was the only word Stanley could speak. The only word that mattered. He wouldn't be able to sneak his way out of this situation. This guy knew exactly who he was.

In response, the man turned his hand palm-up. Inside the formerly closed fist was a tiny hornet.

"Adam holds memories." He commented, sounding like he was taking a quote from another source. "You of all people should know that. Those of us who understand how to extract that information can find a treasure trove of knowledge in these decaying halls."

Gulping heavily, Poole made a few subtle tugs against the ropes that were holding him down. No good. Whoever tied them wasn't an amateur.

"O-Ok. You know me." He said, trying to keep attention away from his minor struggles against the knots. "But I don't know you. Or what you want for that matter. Care to fill me in?"

The splicer let out an amused chuckle, leaning forward and tapping him on the wrists lightly. No go. He wasn't fooled.

"My name is of no concern to you." He said once Stanley had stopped tugging. "Just know that I'm the one who needs answers right now. Answers you will be providing. I need to know the layout of Tenenbaum's little enclave of assorted rabble. For starters, where would one need to place proximity charges in order to cause the most chaos?"

So that was his game. He was out for the doctor. Not all that surprising really. Tenenbaum had a plethora of enemies among the splicer community. Her reputation wasn't helped by her obsessive need to free the little sisters.

Stanley considered telling him exactly what he wanted to know, but something held him back. Not out of loyalty to his former captors, they could burn in hell for all he cared, but more out of spite. He was sick. Sick of being pushed around by people. First Lamb, then the tin man, then the kid, and now these guys? When would it end?

"Maybe I don't feel much like talking right now." He spat, surprising himself with the bitter tone. They wouldn't torture him for the information would they? Oh god, please say they wouldn't.

He had expected the man to be angry at his lack of cooperation, but instead he simply sat back with that oh-so-superior smirk never leaving his features.

"I'm sorry." He said, gesturing to one of the splicers in the background. "Did you think I cared if you aided me willingly or not?"

The smallest one stepped forward, practically jittering in eagerness.

Shit! This is gonna hurt isn't it? Stanley thought to himself, cursing his own pride. It was going to be incinerate. No doubt. Burning to death was supposed to be one of the most agonizing ways to die, and this guy looked like he just loved hurting people.

It wasn't incinerate.

With a sinking feeling in his gut, Stanley watched as a blood red polyp formed in the splicer's palm. After a moment, the red liquid inside turned to a softly glowing green.

"Shit…"

"Don't bother trying to fight it." The seated man said while his companion reared back to throw. "The plasmid will win either way. You'll only make it worse for yourself."

With a wet smack, the tiny orb burst open on impact with his chest. The foul contents seeped inside his cloths and absorbed into his skin almost the moment they touched it.

Shit! Shit! Shit! Shit! He tried to fight back, to struggle against his restraints and somehow break free. None of it mattered. Stanley quickly lost control of even the most basic motor functions. His entire body locked up, waiting against his will for orders from the man sitting across from him.

"Now then." He picked up, as though there had never been a break in the conversation. "Where were we?"

The rest of the day was a blur for Epsilon. Davian and Wren… no, not Wren… Gwen had spent it tentatively reaching out to each other. The conversations were hesitant at best, but from the looks of things they were reconnecting slowly but surely.

She on the other hand, had been sitting on the outskirts of their interactions never daring to venture closer. Part of her wanted to reach out like he did. To try and reclaim the bond that she'd once had with the girl. Another part just wanted to shove her away as forcefully as possible. By now she couldn't bring herself to feel angry or grief-stricken anymore. Her emotions had burned themselves out. They would return no doubt, but right now all she could feel was tired.

Joseph and Archer had returned to their posts in the colony when it became clear that the situation had stabilized. Or at least Joseph had. She didn't know if Archer had an actual post. He seemed like more of a vagabond than a citizen.

At the moment she was standing in the hallway outside their shared room, looking in through the doorway that had been left ajar. She'd made it clear that she wasn't ready to face Wr-Gwen, so Davian had gone inside to put her to bed by himself. It was getting late and the girl had been exhausted by the events of the day.

He was sitting on the side of her bed, pulling the covers up to her chin. Epsilon couldn't hear what was being said, but she could read the body language easily enough. He was about to leave, likely to come back to her and try to sort out the situation, but Gwen didn't want him to go. She didn't want to be alone.

The big sister sighed. She could understand that. Not wanting to be alone.

He stayed by her side for a long while, speaking soft words while she slowly drifted off to sleep. It was a strange thing to be looking in from the outside. Maybe this was what the two of them had been like before Epsilon had showed up. She decided against thinking too much on it. A subject like that would only serve to hurt her mood even more.

After around twenty minutes of patient coaxing, Gwen's eyes closed and she slipped into the dreaming world. Davian stayed by her side for a minute or two afterwards to ensure that everything was all right. When it became clear that she wasn't about to spring back into wakefulness, he rose from the bed and made his way back outside to the waiting protector.

The two of them stood silently for a moment. Epsilon didn't know how to act. She'd never been in a situation like this before, and she didn't like such unfamiliar territory. It caused hesitation. In a city as unforgiving as Rapture, hesitation could be a death sentence.

"Come on." Davian said at last, gesturing over his shoulder. "If you don't feel like going in there yet, how about we go someplace private for a bit?"

She nodded, looking down slightly. It shouldn't have been such an issue, but the thought of sleeping in the same room as Gwen twisted her insides up terribly. She wasn't ready to be that near the child.

He took the lead, walking past numerous doors and hallways. Epsilon had long since given up hope of ever learning the intricacies of this place. To her, all the doors looked alike, and all the halls were mostly the same. A couple had walls smashed down, but other than that they all were made up of the same rotting wood and concrete.

He led her to a secluded side room, past an old 'Power to the People' station. It had clearly been used already. She wondered who had been the one to take advantage of the weapon upgrading station. Most likely it was someone in the colony. She didn't see all that many splicers smart enough to use them.

"Do you want to sit down?" Davian asked, gesturing to a couple of very old looking chairs. They were some of the only pieces of furniture in the room. The other two being an even older looking table, and a stool that might have been chewed on by several generations of rats.

Not particularly caring one way or the other, she accepted the seat. The wood creaked with its age under the sudden weight. He took the other chair, pulling it up so that he was sitting across from her.

Instead of looking at him, Epsilon directed her gaze down. They settled on her hands. Her bandages had been rewrapped when the others saw that she'd ended up cutting herself on that piece of metal. For whatever reason, Davian hadn't mentioned that she'd been threatening him with it. The burns were starting to heal. They no longer hurt each time she moved. Now all they did was itch like crazy.

"Amelia." The soft coaxing tone prompted her to look back up. He was watching her with concern clear in his features. He was worried about her. That knowledge caused a strange sensation in her stomach.

They sat silently for several moments. He was trying to build up to something, that much was clear. Whatever it was she wished he'd get on with it already. Having him look at her like that made her feel strange.

With a heavy sigh, he spilled the thought that he'd been afraid to voice.

"Do you hate me?"

It was such a simple question, and yet the moment she heard it all her thoughts scattered as though they'd been blown away by a shotgun. Epsilon didn't have an answer.

When she didn't move to respond Davian continued, looking less and less sure of himself with each passing moment.

"If you do… please just tell me." He said, forcing the words out. "Don't try and hide it. I need to know what you're thinking and if… if I can fix it somehow."

Another sigh and his gaze fell to the floor.

"I've screwed this whole thing up haven't I?" It was more of a statement than a question. "I thought I was doing the right thing, but… I don't know what that is anymore." The next words he spoke sent a ripple of shock through her system.

"I don't want to lose you."

Epsilon felt her mouth drop open halfway. She'd known that he'd valued her presence as protection against the threats they'd faced, but this sounded like something else. Something she wasn't familiar with..

He forced himself to face her again. His blue eyes met her golden ones. It was funny… she never noticed that he had blue eyes before. She'd never bothered to check.

"Don't hold back." He said. His body was tense, braced for the answer he was positive was coming. He expected her to nod. To confirm that she hated him. It was the obvious outcome after what had happened.

She simply stared. She could have easily have told him what he expected, but it would have been a lie. She hadn't been able to hate him when she had a blade pressed on his heart. She couldn't bring herself to hate him now.

If asked later what she had been thinking, Epsilon wouldn't have been able to explain it. And not just because she couldn't speak either. All she could offer, all that she could tell herself, was that it felt like the right thing to do. She didn't understand it. She didn't feel the need to.

As Davian's vision searched her own for the answer he feared, she responded in a very different way. Her eyes instinctively closed as she leaned forward. In the breadth of an instant, her lips found his. The splicer let out a sharp gasp at the sudden feeling, but her hands reached out to grip his arms lightly and hold him in place. Not that he was trying to pull away.

Epsilon didn't know how to kiss. As such, their touch was little more than a press of their mouths together. The initial moment felt slightly awkward, her front teeth pressing uncomfortably against her top lip, but they quickly relaxed into a much more pleasant sensation. It was unlike anything she'd felt before. Such a simple gesture made her insides turn warm and tingly. She lost herself in the feeling, letting the entire world drift away for that single moment. Davian reacted in much the same way, wrapping his arms around the small of her back and lightly pulling her closer.

The sheer closeness of the situation sent tiny vibrations through her heart. Her training warned that getting this close to someone, be it physically or otherwise, left you vulnerable. But maybe... maybe that wasn't such a terrible thing sometimes. Maybe she wanted to trust him enough to make herself vulnerable.

After a blissful but all too short eternity they broke away. He was breathing heavier now, trying and failing to regain his composure while she watched him with a small smile on her face.

"Amelia…?"

She cut him off with a light hum, leaning forward and pressing her forehead against his. He got the message. No more words were spoken. None were needed. Epsilon couldn't fully understand what she was feeling right now, but she knew one thing.

She wasn't alone.

"Come on!" Archer pleaded, practically down on his knees at this point. "I'll pay you back Donny, I swear!"

The man simply rolled his eyes at the schpeel he'd heard at least a dozen times by this point.

"Yea, like the time you swore you'd get me those bottles of vodka back?" He asked dryly, leaning against the wall with an air of general disinterest.

"I got you something just as good didn't I?" Archer demanded indignantly. "Well… almost as good. Anyway, that's not important. I need the money now to pay back Davian. You know? The guy with the big metal friend? I'd rather not leave a debt to him unpaid for too long. All I need-"

Donny cut him off by raising a hand.

"Let me just stop you right there." He said. "How about we play a little game instead? You have to guess the number I'm thinking of right now."

Before Archer could say anything he raised his hand again. "I'll give you a hint. It's the same as the number of shits I give."

"Is it greater than zero?" He asked hopefully.

"No."

The young man threw his arms up in exasperation.

"Fine! I'll get the money from someone else." He lamented, doing his best to show a betrayed expression. "If you ever need a loan, don't come crying to me!"

"Right." Donny said, dismissing him with a wave of his hand. "Now if you'll excuse me, I'm supposed to be doing my rounds."

Archer stomped his way back into the colony, making a very overly dramatic scene of the whole thing. His stingy friend was less than impressed.

"Don't know why I'm even watching this place anyway." Donny muttered under his breath. "Nothing interesting ever-"

The rest of his sentence was cut off as a pair of arms wrapped around his throat. He barely managed to utter a choked gasp of surprise before they gave a strong jerk. The unfortunate sentry felt the bones in his neck break with a sickening crack, an expression of shock forever frozen on his features as he slumped to the ground.

His sightless eyes remained wide open, watching as his killer stepped over him. Jericho didn't spare the body a single glance. He was limping, still not recovered from being flattened by debris, but his mood couldn't be higher.

With a wicked smile, he planted a proximity charge on the wall in such a place that it would collapse the floor above it if it was triggered. He worked quickly.

With a satisfied chuckle, he set off down the hall with over a dozen more charges in his explosives bag.

It was time to get this party started.