I am back! After a very long and drawn absence, I have returned! With a (hopefully) better Titanic Fanfic, as, however hard I try, I can never stay away, ever xD!
This Fanfic is basically a mash together of all my other old stories, with all my OC's and officers, it starts after the ship has sunk (bear with me folks), and goes into flash back mode. Am currently listening to the vocals from "Never an Absolution" and this really inspired me to start where I am going to.
I am planning to delete all my old Titanic Fanfics, and see how I persevere with one at the moment.
I am also willing for my original characters to be borrowed for your Titanic Fanfics, if you are interested in loaning a character, feel free to PM me, and if you have any queries about the Titanic or my fics, again PM me! My door is forever open!
'Nuff Said!
Hope you enjoy!
One: The Want for Routine
The clock dragged to the next minute, it's bothersome ticking relentlessly playing at Charles' all too sensitive ears.
The 38 year old bent his head and rubbed his aching temples with the index finger of each hand, before all this furore, he hadn't minded the routine, the consistency of each day, in fact, it had been quiet a comfort to him, but now, it made his stomach turn.
He had been in New York little over a week, and wasn't allowed to go to the one place he wanted; home.
If it was only him, he wouldn't have minded so much, but the added pressure of seeing not only his wife, but his two sons, stalled for the near future, made Charles feel remorseful that he had even taken them on the doomed voyage in the first place.
"Andrew..." Charles couldn't help but utter the name of the young boy, or rather, young man that had shown so much courage for someone his age. Andrew had barely uttered a word since he had been pulled out of the icy Atlantic waters by rescuers 10 days ago, he had before been unable to keep his lips shut, but now they rarely opened.
If Andrew had spoken about the disaster to anyone, it certainly hadn't been Charles.
Charles stood up and made his way over to the window which looked out over the docks, still, there were hundreds, thousands, of people clambering over one another to read from the long lists of the missing, even though they had been informed many times that only one ship had come to the aid of the stricken passengers that night.
Charles sighed, it wasn't meant to be like this, he was meant to be sailing back home now, on the Ship of Dreams, as one of her senior officers, people weren't meant to be mourning the dead, they were meant to be celebrating the new life they had stepped into.
That could never be.
Not now.
Charles wasn't the type of man who cried, but this, it was like his world had been torn from him, he placed a fisted hand over his mouth and his whole body shook as he forced himself not to cry.
He found that one sob escaped him, but that sob was quietly returned by the feeling of warmth on his shoulder and affectionate breath on the back of his neck.
"Oh, my love" Sylvia's poetic, soothing voice was compassionate as she lay her head on Charles' broad shoulder.
"Syl," Charles murmured, reaching for her hand, "I'm so, so sorry" he took her hand in his and planted a kiss on her delicate knuckles.
"What for?" Sylvia asked "This wasn't your fault"
"I know!" Charles exclaimed "But...I'm sorry for bringing you, and the boys, our boys, putting you through...through this!" he sighed as his body heaved another heavy cry.
"You had no idea that this would happen," Sylvia soothed him, kissing his neck again, "You are not to blame".
"Are you sure?" Charles asked.
"Perfectly," Sylvia concluded "Charles, that night, I was so...so scared...I thought I would lose you...and Andrew"
"Syl..." Charles turned round to face his wife "You needn't have cared about me! I've told you before...the sea isn't wet enough..."
"...To drown you. Yes, yes, Charles, I know," Sylvia smiled slightly "You've said many times, but it nearly did, didn't it? It nearly did drown you, and I think, that, if Andrew hadn't have stayed with you, I think your luck might have run out. I was so frightened, I didn't want to raise Richard alone"
"My darling," Charles placed his arms round her corseted waist, "I would never leave you to raise our boys alone, do you understand?"
Sylvia nodded before placing her hands on her husband's shoulders "Come on, more enquiries to testify to later. This is no time to cry."
Charles moved his hands from her waist to her cheeks, and, her face cupped in his hands, pulled her toward him and planted a soft kiss on her forehead. He kept her head underneath his for a time, breathing in the sweet scent that was his Sylvia. He stifled another cry by forcing himself to whisper to his wife, who very nearly had become his widow, "I love you so much."
"And I love you too," Sylvia pulled away and looked up at him, pushing a stray brown hair back from her husband's worn face with a gentle brush of her finger.
Charles smiled down at her, looking up only when he heard the click of the door.
Sylvia pulled quickly away leaving only a hand on her husband's arm as their youngest son shuffled nervously into the hotel room.
"Richard," Sylvia's face softened as the son she most often still referred to as her 'baby' looked up at his parents with forlorn green eyes.
"What is it, Richard?" Charles asked, watching as Richard shifted nervously from one foot to the other.
"It's...it's..." Richard sighed "Andrew wants to see you, Dad, he says he wants to talk...about...about ..."
Charles knew only too well what Andrew wanted to talk about, and as he passed Richard, the image of his eldest son, shivering, ghostly white and close to death in the icy waters flashed momentarily in his mind.
Knocking on the door of the adjacent room, Charles bent his head to listen for a reply. He was concerned when he heard nothing immediately, but breathed a sigh of relief as he heard Andrew's voice "Come in."
Closing the door behind him as he walked in, Charles was greeted by a thin frame of a young boy. Andrew's bones still shivered in unimaginable cold, his lips, on closer inspection, were still tinged the palest of blues and in his voice, resonated the fear that had gripped hundreds of people on the cold Atlantic night that the shocked the world.
Andrew, dressed in plain brown trousers, and his night shirt, tucked untidily into his bottoms, was staring into the long mirror opposite him and at a right angle to Charles. He looked up at his father and rasped, his voice barely audible "I still see them," he looked away "When I close my eyes, I hear their screams. Is that normal?"
Charles, standing with his arms crossed over his chest, was not surprised that his son still imagined the horrors of than night. He opened his mouth to answer, but when no words came out, Andrew answered for him "It isn't is it?"
"No, Andrew, no. Of course, of course it's normal. It's perfectly normal, you...you've been through a lot," Charles finally met Andrew's steady blue gaze with his own.
"So have you," Andrew looked his father up and down "You lost your best friend that night. Mine lost his father. How will I look him in the eye now, Dad?"
"With pride," Charles stepped down onto his knees and took Andrew by the shoulders "With pride, Andrew. Not many boys your age have shown such courage, such bravery, such maturity." He held his hand on Andrew's cheek.
"Will he forgive me?" Andrew asked.
"Andrew," Charles swelled with pride and admiration for the boy whom he loved so much and was now too proud to call his own "Why should Freddie have to forgive you, when you have nothing to be forgiven for?"
"I do though," Andrew turned away and bore into his reflection in the mirror "The fact that I cannot bring his father back."
Hope that was a decent start, pretty long for me in terms of starts, hope you enjoyed and would love feedback, reviews will be repayed, just mention what you want reviewed at the end of yours and I'll get right to it xD