Chapter 20: Rescue

April 15th, 1912.

3:00 a.m.

It has been over forty minutes since Titanic sank. There are few survivors left in the water, but it is only now that a lifeboat decides to return.

"Hold on! We're coming!"

Those were the words Lovino heard as he saw the boat moving toward him. Rescue. They were actually being saved, after all this, after everything. They were being saved.

The boat started moving toward him, knocking past the less fortunate. It only took a few seconds for the boat to reach its destination, but it felt like a thousand years passed before they stopped.

The crewmen were luckily able to pull Lovino out of the water, because he never would've been able to do it himself. After a long struggle, Lovino tumbled into the bottom of the lifeboat. As soon as he was on something solid, the world spun like an out-of-control carousel. Faces whirled around him. They were speaking, asking questions he couldn't understand. The sounds of the world faded away, and Lovino felt a blanket being draped over him just as everything went black.

"Will he be alright?" one of the crewmembers asked, looking worriedly at Lovino.

There were blank looks and worried shrugs all around.

"I hope so," Francis said honestly.

For a while the men were all quiet again, and Francis, shivering in his blanket, began to wonder if they were going to keep searching for people. "Do you think there's anyone else out there?" he hinted.

"We might be too late," the crewman said gravely.

"Shall we turn around?" the other sailor inquired.

Before anyone could answer, a tiny little something reached Francis' ear. He couldn't tell what it was, but he had definitely heard a sound. He froze. "Wait, wait, listen!" he said. "Do you hear that?"

At first only nothingness resounded in the night; then, a few beats later, the sound Francis must've heard in the first place bounced shrilly through the darkness again. It was the unmistakable sound of a whistle.

The stars that night were like nothing Elizabeth had ever seen before. They were all that filled her vision; a great cluster of beautiful blinking lights, and the Milky Way, dancing across the sky from one horizon to the other.

Strength was leaving her. She could no longer feel her hand, though she knew that her fingers were still entwined with Gilbert's because her arm detected his weight at the end of it.

Movement –Elizabeth barely caught it in her peripheral vision. Her eyes slowly tracked down from the stars to the water beside her. At first she couldn't quite comprehend what she saw. Then it became clear. The silhouette of a boat was slowly crossing in front of the universe's heavenly masterpiece. There were men inside, moving so quickly yet so slowly at the same time. Water splashed up around it; icy water, smooth and graceful. It was a gorgeous sight.

The hope of rescue fluttered weakly in Liza's chest. Could she move? Slowly, with all the effort she could assemble, Elizabeth lifted her head and turned toward Gilbert. Frozen clumps of hair tore free from the wood with a sickening pop.

"Gilbert," she said. She had wanted to speak loudly, to get his attention, but she couldn't manage anything above a whisper. He didn't move. "Gilbert," she repeated. Still, there was no response. She reached out with her free hand and gently shook his shoulder. "Gilbert. Gilbert, there's a boat!"

Even then, Gilbert remained motionless. Elizabeth touched his head and gently lifted his face toward her. His skin was almost a blue tint. His features were lined with a thin layer of frost. His expression was so peaceful that he could've been sleeping. Elizabeth wished he was.

"Gilbert," she choked.

Her mind wanted to cry, but her body was too broken to produce tears.

"Gilbert…there's…there's a boat…"

Elizabeth would've given anything in the world to see his cheeky grin even one last time. To hear his voice, or his laugh. To have one final argument. But she'd never be able to do those things again. They'd never have another parasol fencing match. They'd never ride horses on the beach, or travel the world. She'd never even get to be Liza Beilschmidt. Her promise was meaningless. Everything, even living, seemed meaningless.

Elizabeth turned around and took one final look at the boat. It was far away now. Even if she had the will, she'd never be able to catch up to it. Her eyes slid closed. The weakness enveloped her. It won't be long now, she thought.

What the hell do you think you're doing, Liza?

The first time she heard it, his voice sounded so real that she opened her eyes and looked at him. He hadn't really spoken. But she could hear his voice in her mind, saying exactly what he would've said if only he could. Maybe she was going crazy, or maybe it was simply her conscience. Either way, the voice kept talking.

You can't just give up! You promised me, remember?

That was all it took. Hearing his voice, real or not, gave Liza the extra push. Her mind snapped into action. There was something to live for. There were still promises she could keep, after all.

"Wait! Come back!" she tried to call. Her voice was still too weak. In the freezing air, it was difficult to draw enough breath. Her vocal chords were icy and exhausted. "Come back!" she called again. The boat was too far now. The light was almost as small as the stars; a mere pinprick on the horizon.

There's still hope, Liza!

There was that voice again. Liza knew right away what she had to do. She just didn't want to do it. She slid closer to Gilbert's frigid body, and carefully pulled their hands apart. "I'll never forget you, Gilbert," she whispered. "I'll never let go."

With a short yet meaningful kiss to his hand, she released her grip on Gilbert, and his body slid beneath the pitch-black waters of the Atlantic, gone forever. Elizabeth tried not to think of it as a permanent goodbye. She imagined Gilbert floating off to some mysterious afterlife, where he could be happy forever, and where he'd be waiting for her. Maybe she'd join him someday. But not that night.

Liza slipped into the water and swam against the slicing cold over to the ship's officer. He was dead, but his whistle remained, just as she'd hoped. She reached out, grabbed it, and blew as hard as she could. The sound was weaker than she expected. Elizabeth took a bigger breath and tried again. This time –thankfully –it worked. Rescue was finally at hand.

Thank you, Gilbert, she thought. You saved me.

Those were her last words to him. There was no way to tell if the voice was some kind of hallucination or if it actually meant something. To Liza, it didn't matter. His voice had given her strength. He'd saved her in countless ways. He'd loved her and she'd loved him. That's what made the difference –that's what assured she'd never forget. That's what guaranteed that as long as she lived, she'd never ever let go.

No, it's not over yet. There will be one or two more short chapters to wrap things up.

Bah this is so sad D: