Delta's return is announced by the clumsy slap of something leather (the gloves) falling to the tiled floor, then the softer shuffle of fabric and the hard tap of the boots, and finally two small feet on the metallic plating of the vent. Eleanor opened her eyes, vision still bleary. Facing her was a girl, the Little Sister she'd sent to assist her father, but though the girl's dirty purple smock and lank blonde hair were the same as when Eleanor had seen her last, this was without a doubt not the same person.

The way the girl held herself, her constant cautious, almost fearful stance, eyes constantly glancing, the way she turned her whole torso rather than just her head (it was the helmet, Eleanor supposed, that forced that habit) as she peered around the room, her tight grip on her ADAM extractor as if it were a weapon… all of that came from a creature not trapped in a sugary paradise but from something accustomed to assault at every turn, that knew enemies lurked in every shadow and behind every pile of rubble, and that if he allowed his guard to slip he would be torn to pieces. This was her father.

Eleanor shifted into a sitting position with difficulty. Just holding her head up made her weakened muscles ache, but that would all be dealt with soon. Now, the girl that was not a girl was facing her, brows knitted over her(his?) glowing eyes. Eleanor held out her arms, pondering the strangeness of meeting her father like this for the first time in ten years. Him, his real body locked up far away, coming to her in the guise of Rapture's most helpless inhabitants. Was irony the right term for it? Delta let the ADAM extractor clatter to the floor as he approached, looking up at her, not so much disoriented as terrified. Did he think she would reject him; after all he'd gone through for her? She smiled and lifted him into her lap. For a moment he looked up at her, seeming unsure what to do, then pressed his face to her chest, wrapping his arms tightly around her, trembling with a combination of relief and exhaustion.

"Shh, Father, it's alright…" She whispered, running her fingers through his tangled hair. It was matted with blood in places, but knowing Delta, it was probably not his own. She pitied the poor splicer who'd thought he'd be getting an easy fix from the Little Sister without a Daddy. "Mother didn't hurt me. You've done so well."

"Eh… Eleanor…" His voice was hoarse, unsteady from years of disuse and muffled against the fabric of her dress. "Eleanor…"

"Yes, Father." She hugged him back, knowing that this was the only chance she'd have to truly speak with him and learn just what sort of person he was, knowing that there wasn't time for that and that there never would be, because he was dying back there strapped to that gurney, and he would still be dying when she returned him to his body. The best she could do right now was let him hold her one last time, let him feel her without the barrier of that awful armor in the way.

"Love you… Eleanor." He croaked, his voice thick with tears.

"I know, Father..." She leaned down and kissed the top of his head. "I love you too."