jaybird-rising:

blondatlasofficial:

i just thought of jack having the reflex to grab at his hip for the service radio to tell atlas where he is and what’s going on long after he leaves rapture and gets older and i wILL CRY

Jack kept the radio. He didn’t know why, really. It sat heavy on his waistband when he was around the house and sat even heavier on his nightstand. It was old now, its screws a bit rusty from where the seawater got into it back down below. Back in Rapture. He was certain it didn’t work now, outdated, obsolete, just like his memories. But he would push that button anyway, the solid click shooting through his hands like every other time he’s handled it. Sometimes Jack was speechless, opening his mouth as if to speak into it before releasing the button wordlessly. Occasionally he’d simply forget, start talking into it if he just couldn’t figure something out, or even reach out when it wasn’t there and find a moment to panic.

Even years later it haunted him when the girls were all in bed and he was alone with his thoughts. He’d palm it, fiddling with the dial and the lights that wouldn’t come to life anymore. After a few minutes of the button’s depress it’d tumble out, all of it, his thoughts and fears and he’d be back down there again, amongst the decay and the mold and the blood. It wouldn’t be until he was flat on his back, sweating through the matress that he’d come back to himself, a little less lost, a little more guidance in his veins.

A few nights before his daughter’s wedding, what he was sure would be the first of many he would sit through, Jack had one of these nights. The moon was bright and kept him from being consumed by darkness. He was surrounded by the same old bed, the same old sweaters, the same old radio and the same old hands. He looked at it and sighed, gathering himself up before nervous fingers made the telltale button resonate in the room.

“A-Atlas,” he muttered to it, before releasing the trigger again. His hands shook, lifting the reciever to his mouth to continue.

A crackle made him freeze as he went to speak again.

“Do you need somethin’, boyo…?”