Life is short
And pleasures few
And holed the ship
And drowned the crew
But o! But o!
How very blue
the sea is.
-Clive Barker
The helicopter turns up not long after the photograph is found. They don't get much warning, really. Just a radio transmission from the Coast Guard and a few confusing snatches from dispatch. It's all very rushed, and it feels a little like an invasion.
Otabek doesn't bat an eye, of course. Chaos has never bothered him. The other scientists on his team are running around like headless chickens, frantic to make preparations and secure the vessel before all hell breaks loose.
The helicopter touches down gently. When the door is flung open, Otabek understands why.
The man who steps out isn't ancient, exactly. He's definitely old, but there's a kind of wry humor in his expression that belies the lines on his face. A much younger man hops out behind him, blonde hair tossed by the wind off the rotors, offering his arm and rolling his eyes when it's refused. An old routine, then.
The old man moves with a steady inevitability, coming to a stop in front of Otabek.
"I'd like to see my picture," he says, and his eyes gleam.
The man in the photograph is young. Handsomely-dressed. His eyes are laughing, and he's reaching after someone who seems to have just ducked out of view.
"He always was camera-shy," Victor explains. "I never knew why."
"And this photo," Otabek says, his voice low but insistent, "It really is of you? You were a passenger on the Titanic?"
"Mm." Victor nods. "A very long time ago."
The younger man, Victor's son, watches Otabek with obvious distrust. He can feel that green stare on the back of his neck even when he turns away.
"I don't suppose you'd know anything about the necklace, then? It was supposed to be in that safe. Every record indicated that it would be."
"Of course I do," Victor says with a light chuckle. He points to the photograph, floating just under the surface of the preservative. "It's right there." He winks at Otabek. "In my pocket."
Otabek's eyes flash with interest. "Really."
"Oh, yes. But before we get into that, I hear you have some footage of the ship. I'd like to see it."
JJ interrupts then, because interrupting is what JJ does best. "Right this way! It's not a bad set-up, if I do say so myself."
The trick, Otabek thinks privately, would be getting JJ to stop saying so.
They're led over to the multi-screen array, where various moving shots of the ship's carcass are displayed for analysis. JJ is talking at a million miles a minute, but the expression on Victor's face turns almost immediately distant. His son watches him watch the screens, eyes full of something Otabek can't quite identify.
Victor steps forward slowly. Brushes his hand across a screen.
"There," he says softly. "That's where I met him."
The room goes deadly silent. The other scientists have all turned their attention to the old man silhouetted by the screens, his eyes full of unknowable ghosts.
Otabek wants to ask. And maybe Victor is a bit of a mind-reader, because he smiles gently and says, "Ask your question, young man. I'm not so young that I can afford to waste time."
Victor's son meets Otabek's eyes. Dares him, without a word.
Otabek takes a deep breath.
"Met who?"
Notes: Enjoying this fic? Would you rather listen to it in audio format? You can find the podfic version of Unsinkable by deleting the spaces and replacing "dot" with "." in the following address:
archiveofourown dot org/ works/ 10491060/ chapters/ 23143011
