S i l e n t R e v e r i e
Silence was in a world of opposition, standing out over the edge of the railing, watching the boats take their slow decent. He had known, almost with certainty that no deal could exist; this man hated him, he had known quite well. That, however, had given him no excuse or explanation in making it a point in such short conversation; if lying led to her safety, then it should've been removed from the Ten Commandments for such a period of time.
And as the boat was inched down, one short drop on each end, he made short conversation, only proving his point further that he would not be surviving this sinking in any form of an easy way. In fact, he almost relished the challenge, knowing that his experiences in such pressing matters were not so limited as to say he wouldn't express his skills. It was a thrilling and defying and dangerous rush that he had decided he could not long revel in.
She stood up in the small boat sending it wobbling through the air, almost breaking suspension. Passengers near her gasped and shouted at her to sit down, in the name of God. She was risking a good beating from a rather large woman with an inflated handbag. The girl buckled her knees and prepared a jump, as Jack Dawson had come to realize. Protests escaped his mouth hastily up to a moment where the crew mate shoved her shoulder roughly, sending her back to her seat. He muttered an apology and lowered the boat.
The second deck had passed and her opportunity with it.
She stared up at Jack pleading with him, begging for something that he couldn't decipher. She had restrained herself from standing a second time, only to stumble over the side and force herself through the water's surface.
Cries echoed, the sickening sounds of bodies slamming across metal attachments to the Titanic, splashes of victims to gravity, and the people wailing about the temperature of the murky depths. In no sense had she desired a trip below, unless that was where Jack was.
The boat was released and fell, for a terrifying moment, down to the water. Her stomach lurched into her throat, choking on her own tongue as her teeth clamped together. Anxiety swam through her veins and, upon the sway of the ocean, had disappeared. Jack still stood, watching her carefully as she was paddled further from the doomed beauty. Their eyes remained in contact until an odd and electrifying moment where the bow began to elevate.
She could hear Jack curse as he glanced towards her and ran, up towards the rising platform at impossible speeds. The other whom had the deal, she noticed, had left and was nowhere in sight. A sort of rage flared inside of her as she realized that, no, Jack was not to get off of the boat with utter assurance, but risky chance. Oh, how she loathed him.
Jack was carried past slipping passengers, screams crowding in his mind. He didn't give them a second glance as he reached out for a fairly familiar railing. It was painted a sinister shade of glowing white and the faint memory of a falling girl came to mind. He pushed it aside and gripped onto the pole.
He could really use a smoke.
He could feel his feet slipping, the ship rising to an incredible angle. He had never dreamed of such a devilish adventure, but he had come across one and though he did not enjoy it as he thought he would, his heart was drumming impeccably. His eyes drifted closed as he felt his fingers slipping. Maybe it wouldn't be such a terrible drop, but any chances of him willing to let go were slim. He stared ahead of him, paying no heed to the souls falling, letting go of their own grips, all of their friends, family, lovers' grieving their disappearance. That wouldn't be him, though.
He readjusted his grip at the thought of Rose; this wasn't the end. No goodbyes. A cracking sound, splintering wood, broke the air down below him. The railing and deck shook violently, his hands trembling. The sound resembled that of ice cracking beneath him, just as back in Wisconsin when he fell deep into the prickling waters, barely at freezing point.
With a violent jolt, the deck split in two, one half sinking surely. He clung tightly, his knuckles fading to white and his eyes clenched, as was his jaw. The half of the Titanic still above, piercing the surface began its quick decent to the proper layout, falling at deathly speeds. Wind and excitement bristled through the throngs of people living in the terrifying experience. Jack, being one of chivalry and courage, held fast as the deck was splashed with icy waves. Jack's body slammed onto the deck painfully, but he never faltered, standing quickly.
He held his chest and winced, looking back towards the broken end of the doomed ship. There was no trace of doubt in his mind that the ship would sink, surely in a matter of seconds, and so he seized the opportunity. He climbed the railing slowly and swung his legs over, turning to face the deck. Others hung on as their wont, never letting go of their positions. Much to some's horror—and Jack's prediction—water leaked in quickly, taking the bow of what was left and weighing it considerably.
The boat swung, leveling itself straight in the air at a God-awful height. It was horrific in the moment of suspension, where a teasing sensation of calmness was existent, only to fumble under the weight of the ship's sinking rage. It plummeted down into the water, bubbles and foam floating to the surface. People's hands gave way—some purposefully—and the lucky missed the metal contraptions that rose from the board. Others met a painful doom of slamming violently into such barricades.
Jack was, however, calmly placed with ease on the resting side of the rail, simply watching the scene before him. Maybe it was wrong that he, a mere drifter, were to be saved the waste of his strength. Had he deserved such treatment? Not to many's standards; but he had a person on his mind that he desperately wished to see once again. He swore to himself that he wouldn't give in. He was going to survive, so help him God, because that was what he was best at. Living; surviving to see the next sunrise. Only, at the moment, he felt that there was never to be another sunrise.
Soon came his testing moment. He sucked in as much air as he could and plunged below the surface. He couldn't think, he couldn't feel anything but the prick of a thousand knives pressing on his skin. He was back in that Wisconsin pond, watching his life dying away from the cold. Some form of instinct made his legs to start kicking, slowly at first and then violently. He wasn't moving very far as he was pulled by the ship towards the bottom of the ocean. He did not give into its will, pressing himself up, pounding against the water, thrashing his arms and legs. His head broke the surface, gasping for air, his fingers faintly numb already.
People were shoving and pushing, paddling and screaming, searching for something, someone to hold onto. Jack knew that if he ever ventured to close, he would be drowned in an instant, doing neither of the two any good. And for a moment, he sat still as the others had been doing, thrashing savagely, wishing he could sprout gruesome wings and soar. A person was thrown into him, clawing and pushing, trying to stay above the surface, and he was pulled from his stupor. He shoved them back, forcing them away.
He stroked and paddled, pushing the water behind him. He figured that if he swam long enough, the water would leave and he would be standing on dry land. It was a near impossible thought. He swam a distance, escaping the group, before happening upon an intricately decorated chunk of furniture, large enough to rest on, though he was unsure of stability. He scrambled aboard, shaking, shivering, trembling. His heart was pounding heavily in his chest.
He called out to Rose, scanning the area, only to realize that she hadn't been there. He was stupid for the mix up, but she was resting calmly on a life boat, a safety belt wrapped around her fine chest. The thought came in a form of grief and a yet still relief. She was safe; she wasn't with him, but she was safe.
And she was safe. Safe and trembling with tear-stained cheeks. She had witnessed the downfall of the 'unsinkable' Titanic and she had no idea as to where her companion was had he survived or if he was sitting on the bottom of the ocean, it escaped her.
Flares were rupturing through the sky, barreling through the clouds, and exploding, sending showers of illuminant sparks. A boat would soon be on its way.
A/N: Two-shot. First Titanic story.