The cramped room had no windows and water dripped into a rusted tomato can from an overhead pipe in an eternal rhythm. It had once been a storage room and was now employed as Jack's respite from the chaos of Rapture.

He pushed and staked the heavy crates to barricade the door even when his muscles cried out in exhaustion. Day after day of fighting to survive, fueled only on ADAM and stale potato crisps took its toll on the body. When the task was complete Jack unclipped the small shortwave radio from his belt and set it beside him on the stained mattress as he undressed.

Pulling the once-white sweater over his head, his thoughts drifted to his loving parents still waiting for him back home and how worried they must be with him still missing. The brunette wondered how he could explain all of the extraordinary things that had happened in the past few days; the plane crash, the magnificence of the underwater city, the exhilaration of each plasmid coursing through his veins, and most importantly, the man named Atlas.

He smiled at the thought of his Irish-speaking idol known only on the radio. How could Jack have lived this long without his help? Atlas had been there from the beginning to guide him through the fear and uncertainty. Jack often felt like the warm, gentle tones of his voice were the only things keeping him sane and the brunette would often play the few tapes he had of his idol to assure himself he wasn't fighting alone in this sub aquatic hellhole.

Someone was there to share in the pain and Jack would follow Atlas until the bitter end. Jack worried for the man's family as if it was his own and he would die to protect it from all those who would do it harm.

Jack eased his weary body down onto the mattress despite its protests and used his sloppily folded sweater as a pillow. He lay facing the door with a revolver within easy reach and the radio's bronze light kept a silent watch. As the adrenaline seeped out of him, pain and fatigue took its place, picking at his cuts and pulling on his joints.

His heavy eyes blinked at the elegant numbers illuminated on the device's face, the thin needle kept permanently fixed on Atlas' frequency. How cozy anyplace felt with the warm light the device shone. Jack's eyes rolled shut and he was almost asleep when a crackle of static pulled him from it "-Boyo? Where are you Jack? I can't seem ta find ya anywhere on the cameras…"

He smiled at the near-panicked concern mixed in with the Irishman's usual accent and mumbled contentedly between yawns "I'm here, just…getting a little sleep."

"Would you kindly tell me before you run off next time? Your little catnap nearly gave me a heart attack! I was afraid one of them goddamn Splicers got ahold o' you..." Atlas trailed off, he was genuinely worried for the man's wellbeing and Jack felt a little proud of the concern.

"…I'm sorry Atlas…" The brunette wondered what he looked like, was he as young as him? Was he everything that the people believed in?

"Geez, you better be sorry…worried sick…" The Irishman grumbled and Jack laughed a little.

"I'm gonna let you sleep now, call me when you wake up 'kay? I'll call if anythin' big happens."

"…'Kay." The brunette's eyes slid shut again, he felt like a child saying goodnight to his father, protected and safe.

"G'night, boyo. Pleasant dreams."

"…Goodnight Atlas…" He yawned, snuggling his face into the softness of his sweater and he let the darkness fade into dreams of a happy life after Rapture with Atlas by his side every step of the way.