So sorry for the delay, i've been so busy with my life that i totally forgot this fic. So here's chapter 9 and it's very long (thats me saying « I'm sorry ».) And chapter 10 will come faster i promise. Like always i dont own Glee or the titanic, any mistakes are all mine, blame it on me. Oh and HAPPY NEW YEAR EVERYONE ! Now, enjoy x
Rachel's POV
11 am, April 12, 1912
As Rachel walked along the deck that next morning, she remember thinking how warm the sun felt, as if she had not felt the sun's warmth in years.
Despire her happiness, she still felt very self-conscious as she unlatched the gate to walk down into the third class of the ship. She could feel the eyes of the men on the deck as they stopped what they were doing to stare at her. She asked on of them her direction, and soon she was entering the third class general room, looking for a Ms. Quinn Fabray.
She knew that the passengers of the first class did not got down to the E deck, nor did the third class passengers go up to B deck. But Quinn had come up to B deck, and in doing so, she had saved her life...and her reputatation (maybe sanity?) too, by not telling the others about her attempt to take her life. She didn't had the proper change to thank her the night before with Finn and all looking at them. And she was about to fix that.
As she stepped into the social center of the room, she saw that it was loud, boiseterous place, teeming with life. There were mothers with babies, kids running between the benches, people talking in other languages, girls reeding dime novels. It was different from the first class room and people. Here, there was life, true life, no fake smiles, no pointless and boring conversations. People seemed happy even if they had not as much money than Rachel and co.
As she continued to walk into the principal room, the activity around her stopped and a hush fell. The passengers stared openly at her, most of them with awe.
Rachel found Quinn sitting on one of the benched, talking to a small little girl whose head was covered with dark curls. Near her, a darkly handsome man was openly flirting with an attractive blonde.
"No english ? " asked the man. "Not even a little ?"
She shook her head. "No, no. Norwegian. No English."
The she stopped and looked to Rachel like the others. The unknow man also did a take, and then a double take. That caught Quinn's attention, and she finally looked up, staring as Rachel walked towards her.
Rachel gave Quinn a little smile. That make Quinn rose to greet her, a large smile brightening her face.
"Hello, Ms. Fabray."
The man near her who seemed to know Quinn, made a stunned and shocked face.
"Hello, again," Quinn replied, her smile even brighter.
"May I speak with you in private ?"
"Oh, yes. Sure. Of course. Uh, after you."
She mentioned Rachel ahead and followed her. Rachel was very nervous, but she managed to pretend that she was fine.
Quinn must have sensed how uncomfortable she was in her fancy yellow and white rose amongst all those rags, because she suggested that they return to the first class deck. Rachel quickly agreed and they were soon strolling down the B deck. As they strolled, Rachel couldn't not quite find the proper words to thank her, so out of polite curiosity, she asked how she happened to be on the Titanic, and Quinn told her the story.
"It's kind of a poker story you know. Noah and I, the guy you saw with the blonde girl, we played a party of poker with two tall guys, and we won their tickets," told her Quinn with a little smile on her face. " Noah was mad at first because he belived that I got nothing on my game, but I did and here I am on this ship going to New York"
Rachel seemed to found it rather interesting and the way Quinn smiled seemed to be contagious, because she was smiling too.
"That's...an interesting story "
"Please call me Quinn." she interupted looking at her. Rachel nooded and smiled politely.
They continued they're walk and Quinn also told Rachel that when they made eye-contact, back when Rachel when out onto the deck during luncheon, Tommy Ryan, a young Irishman whom Quinn had just met, told her "Aw, ferget her, laddie. You's jest as likely to have angels flyin' outta your arse as gettin' near the likes of her."
Quinn said this in a perfect Irish accent, and the both laughed, because, of course, at that moment, Mr. Ryan had spoken the truth, and yet, now here the were walking down the Boat Deck together.
Then Rachel asked her where her parents, her family were. In a second Quinn smile turned sad as she said, "Well, I've been on my own since a very young age, people can tell that it's sad for a young lady like me to be livin' in the streets but, I don't find it sad. You know why ? Because I'm still alive and that's what matters in the end" Then her smile came back in full force as she said, "And I have Noah so everything's fine."
Rachel wanted to ask her if Noah and her were together as together, but she decided that it was not her place and not the moment to do, so she kept her mouth shut.
They walked a little father and they Quinn said, "Well, Ms. Berry, we've walked about a mile around this deck and talked how great the weather's been and how I happy to be on this ship and how I grew up and all, but I reckon that's not why you came to talk to me, is it ?"
Rachel fell more comfortable around her, and as Quinn smile grew brigther, Rachel felt dizzy and content, maybe. It was new to her, she didn't felt that okay she her daddy's death.
"Quinn...I feel like such an idiot. It took me all morning to get up the nerve to face you."
"Well, here you are." Said Quinn looking at her with kind eyes. Rachel blinked, thinking she was seeing things.
"Here I am, yes. I...I want to thank you for what you did. Not just for...pulling me back, but for your discretion."
"You're welcome, Rachel."
"Look. I know what you must be thinking. Poor little rich girl, what does she know about misery."
"No. No. It's not what I was thinking at all. What I was thinking if I may be honest with you is, what could have happened to this girl to make her think she had no way out."
Rachel was shocked. It was the first time someone actually saw the real Rachel, hidden beneath her high-society facade. That someone might actually understand what was going on inside her, and because she so badly needed someone to understand her, she reached out to her. "Well, I...I do not ...it was not just ONE thing...it was everything. It was THEM, it was their whole world. And the inertia of my life, plunging ahead and me powerless to stop it. I just had to get away...just run and run and run...and then I was at the back rail and there was no more ship...even the Titanic was not big enough. Not enough to get away from them. And before I really thought it through, I was over the rail. I was so furious. I would show them. They would certainly be sorry!"
"Uh, huh. They'd be sorry. 'Course, you'd be dead."
Rachel lowered her head. "Oh, God, I am such an utter fool."
"That penguin last night. Is he one of THEM?"
"Penguin. Oh, Finn. He IS Them."
"Is he your boyfriend or something ?"
Rachel nodded and raised her hand, showing Quinn her engagement ring with its sizable diamond.
"God, look at that thing! You would have gone straight to the bottom!"
The laughed together. A passing steward scowled at Quinn, who was clearly not a first-class passenger, but Rachel just glared him away. Then she grew serious. "Five hundred invitations have gone out. All of Philadelphia's society will be there. And all the while I feel like I am standing in the middle of a crowded room, screaming at the top of my lungs and nobody even looks up."
"So you feel like you're stuck on a train you can't get off, because you're marrying this guy."
"Yes," I cried. "Exactly!"
"So don't marry him."
"If only it were that simple."
"It is that simple."
"Oh, Quinn, please, do not judge me until you have seen my world."
"Well, I guess I will tonight."
The looked at each other, suddenly both uncomfortable at the reminder of that night's dinner.
Looking for another topic, any other topic, Rachel grabbed for the portfolio Quinn was carrying. "What is this thing that you are always carrying? Are you an artist or something?"
She opened it to find a drawing. A very good drawing. She flipped it to find another one, as good as the previous one. "There are rather good," she admitted. Then she looked at a couple more. "In fact, they are very good." Again she flipped though a few more. Each one was better than the previous one. Each one was an expressive little bit of humanity: an old woman's hands, a sleeping man, the little curly-haired girl at the rail with her father. The faces were luminous and alive. Her sketchbook was a celebration of the human condition. "Oh, Quinn, these are exquisite work."
"Aw, they didn't think that much in Paris"
"Paris!" You do get around for a poo-" Rachel almost made a very bad faux paux. Trying to recover, she corrected herself, "Uh, a person of limited means."
Quinn laughed again. "Go ahead. A poor girl. You can say it." Rachel only smiled and ducked her head nervously.
"Well, well..." she had flipped passed a few more, each as good as the previous one, to find some nudes, some very good nudes, as exquisite as her other work. They were soulful, real, with expressive hands and eyes. They felt more like portraits than studies of the human form, almost uncomfortably intimate.
Rachel blushed, raising the book as some strollers went by. Then, trying hard to be very adult, she looked up and self-consciously asked, "And these were drawn from life?"
Quinn shrugged, not self-conscious at all. "Nice thing about Paris is that a lot of girls don't minde taking their clothes off."
Rachel gave her a look then continued perusing her work. "You like this girl. You used her several times."
"Well, she had beautiful hands, you see?" and she showed her a drawing of just her hands.
Yes, Rachel could see, and she could imagine her putting those beautiful hands on Quinn. She did not understand the strange feeling that shot through her heart at that thought. Again she tried to sound adult when she felt anything but. "I think you must have had a love affair with her."
Again she laughed. "No, no, no. Just with her hands. She was a one-legged prostitute," and she found a drawing that clearly showed her impediment. "See?" And Rachel had a hard time hiding her horror. Not Quinn. She laughed fondly. "But she had a great sense of humor."
Quinn flipped passed that page. "Oh, and this lady. She used to sit at this bar every night, wearing every piece of jewelry she had, waiting for her long-lost love. We called her Madame Bijou."
Looking up, Rachel said, "Well, you have a gift, Quinn. You do. You see people."
"I see you." And she admit it. Rachel's heart fluttered.
"And ?" SheI asked, thinking that she meant that she would make a good artist's subject, an idea she found she enjoyed, and she laughed with delight.
Quinn didn't. "You wouldn't had jumped."
Rachel heart stopped fluttering; it almost stopped.
April 15, 1912 – On the railling.
I saw a young woman next to me, clutching her young son, who looked about five and was crying in terror. "Shhh. Don't cry," comforted the mother. "It'll be over soon, darling. It'll all be over soon."
The the priest's voice echoed again, while every scream was breaking me inside. "He shall wipe every tear from their eyes. And there shall be no more death or mourning, crying out, or pain, for the former world has passed away."
And all the lights went out.
Looking back behind me, I saw that Titanic had become a vast black silhouette against the dark sea.
Then a loud crackling report drowned out even all of the screams. As we watched in horror, the deck split, as a yawning chasm opened with a thunder of breaking steel, followed by a booming concussion, like the sound of artillery. People fell into that widening crevasse, looking like dolls being tossed by some gigantic hand.
The stay cables on the funnel parted and snapped across the decks like whips, ripping off davits and ventilators. Fires, explosions and sparks lit the yawning chasm, as the hull split down through the nine decks to the keel, the sea pouring into the gaping wound.
Then our half of the ship fell back toward the water. We all screamed as we felt ourselves plummeting. The sound went up like the roar of victorious fans at a sports stadium. We could see a few unfortunates swimming in the water directly under us. They shrieked as they saw the keel, coming down. To them, it must have looked like God's boot heel.
The massive stern section, the section beneath our own feet, fell back almost level, thundering down into the sea and pushing out a mighty wave of displaced water, swamping some of the nearby boats, although all remained afloat. For a moment, I thought we were safe and looked at Quinn triumphantly, but she looked back at me and sadly shook her head.
Shewas correct again, because now the horrible mechanics played out. Although I did not understand what was happening then, suddenly I did. Pulled down by the awesome weight of the flooded bow, the buoyant stern tilted up rapidly. We felt the rush of the ascent as the fantail angled up again. Everyone was clinging to benches, railings, ventilators, anything to keep from sliding down as the stern continued to lift.
The stern went up and up, passed 45 degrees then passed sixty.
People started to fall, sliding and tumbling; they skidded down the deck, screaming and flailing to grab onto something, anything. They wrenched other people loose and pulled them down with them.
Among others, Helga Dahl and her family now fell, one by one, Helga herself the last.
The sound of his best friend's friend screaming as she slid to her certain death galvanized Quinn. "C'mon!" she cried. "We need to move!"
She climbed over the stern railing and reached back for me, but I was too terrified to move.
Quinn grabbed my hand and held it tight. "Listen to me!" she commanded. "I got you. I won't let go. Now pull yourrself up! C'mon!"
They were the same words spoken the same way as she had two nights earlier at this same spot. Like then, I believed them and helped her pull me over, this time going the other direction.
I crawled over just as the railing was going horizontal, and the deck vertical. Quinn gripped me fiercely. The stern was now straight up in the air. From the lifeboats, it must have looked like God's finger pointing up to heaven. It hung there like that for a long time, its buoyancy stable.
I was lying on the railing, looking down fifteen stories to the dark sea at the bottom of the stern section. People near me, who had not climbed over, now hung from the railing, their legs dangling over the long drop. One by one, their strength gave out and they fell, plummeting down the vertical face of the poop deck. Some of them bounced horribly off deck benches or ventilators.
We watched this horrible spectacle, lying side by side on what was now the vertical face of the hull, gripping the railing, which was now horizontal. Just beneath our feet were the gold letters "TITANIC", emblazoned across the stern.
I stared down terrified at the black ocean waiting to claim us. Then the final relentless plunge began as the stern section flooded. Looking down a hundred feet to the water, we dropped like an elevator.
"This is it!" Quinn yelled. "Hold on! Now listen to me!" she demanded, talking rapidly. "Breathe deeply, Rachel, very deeply. When I tell you, take a very deep breath and hold it. The ship will suck us down. Kick for the surface and keep kickin'. Do not let go of my hand. We're gonna make it, Rachel! Trust me."
I stared at the water coming up rapidly towards us and gripped her hand harder. "I trust you, Quinn."
"Breathe deeply, Rachel! Again! Again!" as she also drew in deep breaths.
Below us, the poop deck was disappearing. The plunge gathered speed. The boiling surface engulfed the docking bridge and then began rushing up the last thirty feet.
"Ready? Ready? NOW!" and just as the name "TITANIC " disappeared beneath the waves, I drew in a deep breath and held it as the water rose to claim us.
As Quinn had warned me, the ship sucked us down. All around me, bodies were whirling, spinning, some limp dolls, others struggling spasmodically.
Just as Quinn had said, I kicked as hard as I could, trying to reach the surface, even as I began to see spots in front of my eyes from lack of air. Then, just as I located the surface, the suction began dragging Quinn down! I tried to hold on, I truly did, but she was sucked away from me, pulling her from my grip!
I gave a mighty kick with the last of my strength and broke the water amidst a roiling chaos of screaming, thrashing people. Over a thousand people were now floating where the ship had gone down. Some were stunned by the cold, gasping for breath. Others were crying, praying, moaning, shouting, screaming; people driven insane by the water, four degrees below freezing, so cold it was indistinguishable from death by fire.
I was screaming, too, screaming Quinn's name over and over; looking for her everywhere, unable to see her. Then a man pushed me under, trying to climb on top of me...senselessly trying to get out of the water, to climb on anything. I kept fighting, breaking the surface in time to gasp some air before he would push me back under the water.
Just when I began to give up, convinced that it was hopeless, I heard someone shout my name.
Quinn!
She yelled, "Get off of her!" When the man continued to dunk me, Quinn punched him repeatedly, finally pulling me free. "Swim, Rachel! I need you to swim! C'mon!"
I tried, but my strokes were not as effective as her due to my lifebelt, but she kept encouraging me. Soon we broke out of the clot of screaming people. "Keep swimming," Quinn urged. "Keep moving. C'mon, Rachel, you can do it!"
All about us there was a tremendous wailing, screaming and moaning, a chorus of tormented souls. And beyond that ? Nothing but black water stretching to the horizon. The sense of isolation and hopelessness was overwhelming.
"Look for something that's floatin', Rachel. Anything that'll get us out of the freezing water. The boats will be coming back soon, Rachel. If we can find something to keep us afloat and out of the water, we'll be fine. We're gonna make it, Rachel!" Her words gave me the strength to keep stroking. She also kept stroking rhythmically, the effort keeping her from freezing to death.
"It's so cold," I told her.
"I know. I know. Help me, here, Rachel. Look around. Find something, please. We can do it."
Her words kept me focused, taking my mind off the wailing around us, and my so-cold body. I scanned the water, panting, barely able to draw a breath. I turned and screamed.
A devil was right in front of my face, swimming right at me like a sea monster in the darkness, its coal-black eyes bugging out!
I nearly lost it, but then I heard Quinn's soothing voice. "No, Rachel, no! It's okay! It's jest that French bulldog! It's already frozen. Keep looking for a large piece of debris before we are, too!"
I looked closer and saw that she was correct about my "monster". I watched as it motored passed me, pushed by the current as if it were heading for Newfoundland.
Then beyond it, I saw something in the water. "What is that?" I asked.
Quinn saw the thing at which I was pointing, and we made for it together. It was a large piece of wooden debris, intricately carved. Quinn pushed me up, and I slithered on it, belly down.
But when Quinn tried to join me on the thing, it tilted and submerged, almost dumping me off. It was clearly only big enough to support me. "Stay on it, Rachel, That's right." She clung to it, close to me, keeping her upper body, especially her chest, out of the water as best she could.
Our breath floated around us in a cloud as we panted from our exertion. A man swam towards us, homing in on our piece of debris. Quinn warned him back. "It's just enough for this lady; you'll push it under. I almost did."
"Let me try at least, or I'll die soon."
"You'll die quicker if you come any closer," Quinn warned.
"Yes. I see. Good luck to you both then," and she swam off. "God bless."
Quinn nodded, but the man's words frightened me. "Quinn. Find your own piece!" I cried. "Or we can find a bigger piece!"
She shook her head. "There's no bigger piece close by. I'm a survivor, remember? I'll be fine as long as I can hang on and keep my chest out of the water. Besides, I don't wanna leave you. You jump, I jump; remember?" and I nodded in resignation.
So we floated amid a chorus of the doomed. Above it, we could hear the sound of a whistle-one of the ship's officers was nearby. He kept blowing it furiously, knowing the sound would carry over the water for miles, reaching the waiting lifeboats.
"The boats will come back for us, Rachel. Hold on just a little longer. They had to row away from the suction, and now they'll be coming back."
I nodded, her words helping me to hold on. I was shivering uncontrollably, my teeth chattering, and if was cold for me, how much more cold she must be, with her lower body still in the ice-cold water.
Ten minutes passed. Twenty minutes. The inchoate wail of fifteen hundred souls slowly faded to individual cries from the darkness.
"Come back! Please!" pleaded a feminine voice. "We know you can hear us. For God's sake!"
"Please!" begged a masculine voice. "Help us! Save one life! JUST SAVE ONE LIFE!"
Seven hundred survivors sat nearby in lifeboats built for twelve hundred, afraid to act for fear of being swamped. They must have told themselves that the voices from the water did not belong to their husbands or their sons or their loved ones. They were merely the cries of the doomed.
Ten more minutes passed. We continued to drift under the blazing stars. The water was glassy with only the faintest undulating swell. I could actually see the stars reflecting on the black mirror of the sea.
Quinn moved slowly around our makeshift raft, squeezing the water out of my long coat, tucking it under my legs. She rubbed my arms with shaking hands. Her face was chalk-white in the darkness.
"It is getting quiet," I told her.
"Just a few more minutes. It'll take them awhile to get the boats organized."
But I just stared into space. I knew the truth. There would be no boat. Beyond Quinn, I saw that the ship's officer had stopped moving, his whistle quiet. He was slumped in his lifebelt, looking almost asleep. I knew he had already died of exposure and knew that we would soon, too; first, Quinn, since she was still in the water, and then I would die, too. I also knew that I would not mind dying, not if we went to heaven together.
"I don't know about you," Quinn told me, her voice trembling. "But I'm planning on writing a strongly-worded letter to the White Star Line about all of this." She laughed weakly, but it sounded like a gasp of fear.
I found her eyes in the dim light. Her hazel eyes were still the same, shinning with the same warm feeling whenever she looked at me. I saw hope onto them, I saw love, I saw compassio, I saw trust, I saw promises of forever, I saw my everything. And like it was probalby written in the stars of my destiny, I fell in love with her. Truely in love. "I love you, Quinn."
She grabbed my hand. "No, don't you say your good-byes, Rachel. Don't you give up. Don't do it, Rachel!"
"I am so cold. Please, Quinn say that you love me back."
"Rachel, look at me. Look at me. I love you, I do. And you're gonna get out of this, Rachel! You're gonna go on...and you're gonna make babies and...watch them grow and you're gonna die an old, old lady, warm in your bed! Not here. Not this night. Do you understand me, Rachel"
"I can not feel my body."
"Rachel, listen to me. Listen! Winning that ticket was the best thing...that ever happened to me." She was gasping for breath, but still managed to speak. "It brought me to you...and I'm thankful, Rachel. I'm thankful." Her voice was trembling with cold and with something else, but her eyes were unwavering. "You must do me this honor, Rachel. Promise me that you will survive...that you will...never give up...no matter what happens...no matter how hopeless...Promise me now...and never...let go of that...promise."
"I promise, Quinn"
"Never...let...go."
"I promise. I will never let go, Quinn. I will never let go. Now give me the same promise, Quinn. Please," and she nodded, but she did not actually say the words.
So I gripped her hand and placed my other hand on her cheak, I looked into her warm eyes and whispered 'Promise'.
She smiled an half smile and held my hand with much strengh as she could.
"You are truely one of your kind Ms. Rachel Corcoran Berry."
"Yes I am Ms. Quinn Fabray." I smiled in return, my finger hand caressing her face slightly. "Say it Quinn."
"Yes I.. I promise"
"You promise what, Quinn ?"
"Are you kidding me right now, Rachel? Because...it's not the best moment" She said with a point of laughter in her voice.
"I do not. Now please say it Quinn."
"I promise that I will never let go."
"That's better." And I closed my eyes slowly touching her forhead with mine.
"Will you sing for me, if I ask you to ?" Her question caugh me by surprise. But I smiled and nodded.
I gripped her hand and noticed for the first time that her arms were now resting on our makeshift raft -she no longer had the strength to hold her upper body out of the water. It was very quiet now, except for the lapping of the water. Quinn kissed my hand, and I smiled at the reminder of her passing me that note.
She continued to stare me directly in the eyes, even as she held my hand to her lips, and although she did not say a word, I could hear her voice in my mind. "I figger life's a gift and I don't intend on wasting it. You never know what hand you're gonna be dealt next. You learn to take life as it comes to you. To make each day count." Again I vowed to myself that I would do everything in my power to keep my promise of making each day count. I knew that as long as she was at my side, I could. She had made me a promise. No, WE had promised each other.