#mcrew

Atlas begins his day the same way he always does- his toe bloodied, and his mind scrambled, and his heart in a mad pace from the one nightmare that just won't leave him alone.

It should be called a routine at this point, the way he always manages to wrap himself up in the sheets, muttering restlessly, aimlessly, crying-shouting- until his body finds the edge of the bed, and down he plummets onto the cold, steel floor of the ship below.

His eyes snap open, and meet the cold darkness that muddled the endless grey of his room, and sighed in relief. His body still itched from the invisible flames and red, angry horrors of his own mind, but Atlas heard nothing but the hum of the engine- the quiet of the empty space at night.

Through the cotton of the sock he wore on his foot, he could feel the droplets of a warm, sticky liquid clinging to skin. His toe radiated a dull and ceaseless pain, but it was manageable enough to allow Atlas to get back onto two feet, staggering through the darkness of his quarters. He tried his best to remember where the doorway was, and he managed to make it most of the way without making his (albeit minor) injury any worse.

The automatic door slid open without trouble, only aiding Atlas and his trek toward the kitchens for a bandaid- and most importantly, a drink.

Atlas remembers little of the fire that engulfed his dreaming world, but whatever plagued him, it was nothing that a good cup of tea can't fi-

"You're up. Late."

The voice lost to the yellowed, dimmed lighting of the ship was enough to make Atlas jump, causing him to instinctively yelp in pain as he slammed his injured foot a step back, hitting the steel floor with a painful reminder that he had yet taken care of his injury.

"Ellias! I-" Atlas swallowed, his voice still scratchy from sleep, "sorry. I didn't mean to disturb you, I just needed some-"

"-Kettle's boiled. I'm up all night. Don't bother sayin' sorry."

Atlas coughs, clearing his throat and nodding into the silent, uncertain air as he trudges toward the kitchens. He pulls on the first drawer he sees, sifting around for something to stifle the bleeding with. Random objects, odds and ends clatter and roll about in the drawer before Atlas pulls out some leftover gauze- odd, how it wasn't in the medbay.

"Do you eat before bed?" Ellias asks suddenly, causing Atlas' gaze to snap up from the bandages that he held in his hand. Ellias was seated in one of the booths, his eyes unmoving from the latest starchart they'd received from a recent contact. It was surprisng- Atlas didn't know Ellias could read starcharts,

"I...huh?"

"Do you eat?"

"Um, at dinner? Why?"

"Huh," Was all Ellias said, and then the dreary silence of a long night took over what little conversation there was, after.

Ellias had left quite a bit of hot water in the kettle, allowing Atlas to welcome the soothing beverage with ease, bringing the steaming cup to his lips and sipping away all of his eerie feelings and woes. He would truly be lying if he said these nights didn't get to him- the moments of disquiet that matched his head with his heart. Atlas wasn't sure if these were going to stop anytime soon, and it was hardly befitting of a crew member to whine simply because he had a bad dream.

"Have Shasta check you in the mornin', Atlas. I shouldn't be seeing you up so late. If needs be, Ezra'll stop by that clinic in Brigginsberg. Okay?"

Atlas gripped the handle of the mug, looking down at the shifting water as he nodded to Ellias, not thinking about how Ellias couldn't see through the darkness of the dimmed lights,

"It's nothing bad. I don't want you to go out of the way for something, really, I'll just-"

"-I worry, idiot. It's the fourth time this week. Finish your drink and go to bed, okay?"

To Atlas' surprise, he didn't think Ellias would have it in his care to count; Atlas smiled for the first time since he'd woken up,