Work Text:
The sound of water dripping in the background of his exhausted mind drove Jack forward. The lack of control that drove him mere hours earlier forced into some semblance of control for once in his short existence. And then the man who’d brought it all together, who built him just to destroy him. Fontaine. Jack gritted his teeth, shaking with the rage that had become all so familiar in those final moments between blissful ignorance and wide eyed awareness. Frank Fontaine was the devil incarnate, and Jack wanted to send him back to Hell where he belonged. His voice, thick with hatred, introduced the young man back to the short wave radio at his hip. He picked it up, waiting for the sound of that voice he loved to hate.
“Jack, Jack, Jack…” The voice, thick with not the accent of the man he loved, but with the licks of a devil’s tongue entered his head. Somehow he was almost as mesmerised with that voice as he had been with Atlas’s.
“Fontaine.” Jack replied back, his too dry throat forcing forth words filled with utter hatred. The laugh that echoed forth from the radio seemed tinged with the same hatred, but filled his heart with a stutter and a start. How did he still have so much power over him by just uttering a single word?
“Tenenbaum’s been messing with things that don’t need to be messed with, I see.” The man softly replied, trying to get inside of Jack’s head, trying to make him his slave yet again. Jack shook his head, trying to get that voice out of his ears and trying to stop his heart from beating faster, faster, faster.
“Maybe if you hadn’t messed around with things that should’ve been left alone in the first place we wouldn’t be having this conversation right now.” He tried to make himself sound menacing, forcing the words in his mind to finally be spoken aloud.
“Yeah, we wouldn’t, cause you wouldn’t even exist. I created you. I chose to give you at least a semblance of self control. I wanted the best for you, kid, but you didn’t want to see what I had to give you.” Silence conspired to rip the two apart until the brown haired man replied, softly, without malice.
“What did you want to give me?” Jack breathed into the radio. He heard Fontaine’s breath stop, a split second of resolve. Of knowing that he had won. That he had baited the hook and the other had taken that bait. All he needed next was to yank the pole just right, to hook him in the mouth.
“I wanted to give you the world. I’d still give you the world, if you’d let me.” He had yanked, and he waited to feel the tug of a struggling fish on his line.
“Where are you?” Tug. Tug. Tug.
“Point Prometheus. Meet me there.” The radio clicked off and Jack followed, seemingly being reeled into a situation out of his imagining.
When he arrived, the magnificent views of the city seemed to lull him into that sense of security he had first felt when he had heard Atlas utter that secret phrase. The one that turned him from a man into a slave. Or had he always been a slave, waiting for that phrase to be spoken? Waiting for someone to string him along, much like a fish on the end of a fishing pole. The man who had made him, his reason for coming to the tallest point in Rapture in the first place, was across the room and he reached out. Suddenly and unabashedly excited to see the man whose voice he had only heard on the radio until that moment.
“Jack.” He spoke, his voice booming through the high ceilings and resonating through the boy’s eardrums.
“Fontaine.” His voice cracked as he spoke his name, moving inevitably closer to the man who still had him on a string. The man who had made him. The man whom he also, insanely, craved closeness to. As they reached each other, Jack collapsed, falling into the shorter’s arms. They both fell to the ground, Frank’s knees hitting the ground with a solid thud as he held the other in his arms. He knew Rapture was going to hell around him, but he was the devil, wasn’t he? Why did it matter when he had caught the fish? He pulled him closer, so close he could feel the other’s heart beating out of the closeness that had been so out of reach until Jack had accepted his offer. He was going to give him the world. Fontaine lifted Jack’s head up slightly, looking into those deep brown eyes. He pushed their lips together and Jack gasped, closing his eyes slowly and wrapping his arms around the back of the other’s neck. He had been caught, and he was fine with being Fontaine’s trophy catch. He was fine with being his. He was fine with Frank giving him his world. Their Rapture. They pulled apart, way too soon. The adoring look in Frank’s eyes threw Jack for a loop, his heart still beating a million miles an hour.
“I was so afraid you wouldn’t accept my offer. So, so afraid we’d have to fight. That I’d have to kill you.” Jack struggled with finding the right words to respond, his mind still racing, thoughts barely pacing.
“What else could I do?” He finally replied and Frank uttered a laugh, genuine and heartwarming. Jack felt himself being lifted up and the chains of his existence up until that point fell away and so too, did Jack.
When he awoke he was in a familiar yet unfamiliar room. He shook as he awoke, not knowing exactly where he was and fearing he was dead. Then he remembered. The conversation, the hook, the kiss. He turned over to see the man to whom he owed his very life, looming over him, waiting for him to awake.
“I thought you’d never wake up. Not like I was worried you wouldn’t. There’s just a lot of your world you need to see.” And Jack laughed then, remembering that last promise. That line that had been forced from a fragile tongue and a deep down gentle heart.
“Why should I have to have the world on my shoulders when that’s Atlas’s job?” He replied quietly and Fontaine smiled then, caringly, adoringly.
“Because Atlas shrugged, and the world’s now yours.”