A/N: So, considering I spent this morning in Emerg. getting CAT scanned and generally poked and prodded for what turned out to be my very own pair of twin kidney stones (HOLY MOTHER OF GOD OUCH) I am generally quite happy that this is somehow managing to get posted today. I feel much better now, but holy crap body, NEVER DO THAT. AGAIN. Unrelated, as this is now officially the end of february and I have not completed the fic, my new deadline is March 31st, which for various reason I really HAVE to stick to. Wish me luck. XD Lastly, I leave you with three important point about this chapter: 1 - This is exactly what happens in the musical. Obviously written with my usual expanded-uponness, but pretty much, this is how it plays out. Please don't hurt me. 2 - I decided starting out that I would make no changes regarding who live and dies, thusly, if the character dies on stage they die in the story, and if they survive, then they do in the fic as well. No, the list of living/dead does not necessarily mirror real life. But you'll have to ask Peter Stone about that. And please don't hurt me. 3 - I debated long and hard about whether or not to make this chapter and the previous chapter one big long section, instead of cliffhanging you guys the way I sort of did. Ultimately, I decided that this was the better method. Please don't hurt me.
Last but not least, I have to thank the four amazing ladies who reviewed the last chapter: LC, Vee, Cookies, and doodlezr1. Your feedback and support is hugely appreciated. You guys are fantabulous.
It seemed to Kate, who stood at the edge of the lifeboat clutching the gunwales in hands that were numb with cold, that everything around her, all the chaos, had disappeared. She no longer felt the bitter air, she no longer heard the noise of the crowd, she no longer saw the women who shared her boat, or the officers manning the loading. Kate's entire world had shrunk to nothing but Jim and keeping his face in her sights so that she could memorise every detail she could.
He had kept his promise to Murphy, Kate thought numbly; he had gotten her off the ship. Kate would survive, she would go on to America and have her baby, and live her life the way she had told herself she would in the anxious days before boarding the Titanic. But suddenly this task, which she had once been fully prepared to follow through with on her own, seemed huge and impossible. How could she do it all alone? Without Murphy's level-headed reason and honesty, without Mullins' optimism and easy laugh, and without Jim, without his kind eyes and slow smile, and his voice, and strength, and calm, and his warm presence to hold her when she was cold, or angry, or sad, or scared. Kate had no idea if she could be that strong.
She had to be, Kate knew that. Jim was counting on her and she could not, would not let him down. But how was she supposed to find the strength that he so clearly believed she had when she felt as though she was being torn into a million pieces?
There had to be some way. There had to be some way to get Jim off of the ship. He was meant to be with her, he wasn't meant to die in some Godforsaken stretch of freezing ocean, he was meant to be with her. Kate, who had never believed in fate or even so much as entertained the idea that certain things in life could be predetermined or written in the stars, caught hold of this notion and held on for dear life. She knew it was ridiculous, but she clung stubbornly to that faint shred of hope. Kate was sure that if she did otherwise, if she allowed herself to really and fully believe that he was lost to her forever, she would go insane. But deep down a nasty, snarling little voice told her that there was no way, no possible way that Jim, of all those men lost and abandoned on the Titanic's deck, was going to be the one that fickle fortune decided to save. For that to happen, Kate would need a miracle. Nothing short of a miracle.
And then, out of nowhere, she got one.
It took Kate a moment to register what had changed. Looking around herself in a sort of daze, Kate realised that she was no longer being jostled by the loading of more frantic women into the boat, and this fact snapped her back into the moment. She became aware of her surroundings again with the odd sensation of waking from a half-sleep. The needle-sharp pain of the cold returned to her fingers, the cries of the passengers on deck reached her ears for the first time since she'd been dropped so unceremoniously into the lifeboat.
Blinking stupidly, Kate looked from the lifeboat – which still clearly had room for more – to the mob of people still gathered on deck. She could see no reason why the officers had stopped the loading of passengers. Kate frowned and looked to Jim to see if he could give her some indication of what had happened. Jim, however, was watching the two officers in charge. They were, Kate realised, her confusion deepening, scanning the crowd as though looking for a specific something or someone.
"You!" One of the officers – Kate thought it was the fellow who'd grabbed her, but she wasn't sure – barked, singling out a young man in White Star garb, "In the boat. We need two men at the oars!"
The seaman did not to need to be told twice. He gasped a thank you to the officer and hastened into the lifeboat. Kate was forced to back away from the boat's edge to make room, but she was back again immediately once the man got past. A singular thought had occurred to her, though she hardly dared allow it to fully form: the boat needed two men to row…and Jim had worked fishing boats half his life…
"Stoker!" The officer shouted, pointing to another man in the crowd before him.
"Barrett sir,"
Kate gasped and whipped her head around so fast that her neck cricked; she had been so focused on Jim that she hadn't even noticed that Barrett had joined the chaotic scene around the life boat. She could hardly believe her eyes when he stepped forward, giving Jim a quick look of acknowledgement as he did so. And if he was there, then that meant that somehow, against all odds, Mullins and Murphy had made it as well. Kate, her heart pounding like a hammer against the walls of her chest, cast her eyes over the group. And yes, there they were, Mullins' rainbow patterned beret standing out like a beacon among the rest of the onlookers. They were well back from the boat still – Murphy's ankle was no doubt impeding her ability to break through the crowd – but they were there.
The officer nodded absently, and made an impatient gesture with both hands, "Yes, fine, Barrett then. Can you row?"
It was all Kate could do to keep from howling in despair. Of course Barrett would say yes, only a fool would not. But Jim was so close and though Kate was grateful to Barrett, immeasurably grateful, he was not the man she wanted.
Barrett, however, looked startled by the question. He threw a fleeting look at Jim and said, "I dunno sir, I've never tried."
It would be a mystery to Kate forever how she managed to keep from falling overboard. She felt as though all of the bones in her body had turned to liquid. She caught Jim's eye and could see from the look on his face that he was fighting to make a decision, caught between what he wanted to do and what Kate wanted him to do, and whether or not he could live with himself if he went through with it. Please, please, please, Kate thought desperately, I need you, I need you.
She must have made a noise, some sound that managed to cut through the rest of the din, because that was the only explanation for how Barrett suddenly picked her face out of the mess of others on the lifeboat. He looked straight at her, then back at Jim. When Jim met the stoker's gaze, Barrett nodded, a tiny, barely visible bob of his head. It all happened in an instant, so fast that no one around them could have possibly noticed. But Kate knew that that moment would be burned forever in her memory; Barrett's nod, the miracle she'd never expected to get.
"I can row sir," Jim said, stepping forward. He looked pale and shaken, "I was a fisherman by trade see, an'…"
"Good, good," the officer said brusquely, his face betraying every inch of his anxiety even if his voice did not. Kate realised that to him nothing the least bit extraordinary had happened, "Get on the boat then man!"
Jim turned and said something to Barrett – a thank you, an apology, both, Kate never knew which – who nodded and shook Jim's outstretched hand. Kate registered this only vaguely. All the strength had gone out of her legs, and only sheer force of will was keeping her upright. She stood as though turned to stone, not daring to move, scarcely daring to breathe until she had watched Jim climb safely off of the listing deck into the boat and back at her side where he belonged. He reached her just in time for Kate to collapse into a boneless heap on the floor of the lifeboat.
The loading of the lifeboat resumed as though absolutely nothing momentous had happened. Unnoticed in the midst of this, Jim wrapped both arms around Kate and lifted her gently onto the seat beside him. Kate stared at him, the feeling gradually returning to her limbs.
"Kate…" Jim began. Kate interrupted him backhanding him as hard as she could across the side of his head, and then throwing herself forward into his arms with a shriek and burying her face in his chest. After that, Jim wisely kept silent.
A heartrending wail from the deck finally snapped Kate out of the haze of her own personal drama and back to reality. The officers were struggling with another woman, a pretty, well-bred looking young lady with dark hair and a blue over coat that probably cost more than Kate's entire wardrobe put together. Her fancy looks were completely at odds with the way she was lashing out at the officer, fighting like an angry cat, clawing and scratching and shrieking in her efforts to not be separated from her man. Her screams were painful to listen to, and Kate wondered if she had sounded like that, as though someone was ripping her heart from her body.
It took nearly a minute to wrestle the woman into the boat. She landed in an ungraceful pile near where Kate sat, and began weeping brokenly onto her hands. Kate couldn't watch; she clutched Jim tighter and pressed her face into the side of his neck, her own tears freezing to her eyelashes.
"There's not much room left," Jim said quietly, "Not hardly enough fer ev'ryone up there,"
Kate lifted her head from his shoulder and looked around. Jim was right; the lifeboat was nearly full. Beside Kate, the crying woman in blue seemed to realise this too because her sobbing intensified. Kate swallowed hard, feeling her insides tying themselves into a thousand knots, "Jim, Mullins an' Murphy are up there, did ye see 'em?"
Jim nodded, "Aye, I saw 'em. Barrett did as he said he would I guess," His voice sounded very tight as he said this, as though he was speaking through clenched teeth. Kate caught one of his hands in hers and held it tight. Jim shook his head, "He'll try an' get the girls on the boat Kate, I'm sure he will."
"They could still let him on too," Kate said with as much confidence as she could muster, "We've got te need more crew'n just the one fella we got."
"I s'pose," Jim said, sounding doubtful. Kate wanted to tell him that it wasn't his fault that he, Jim, was safely off the ship, while Barrett was not – Barrett had made the choice himself, Kate had seen it, so had Jim – but she was sure that her assurances would fall on deaf ears. If Barrett died, Jim would blame himself, just as Kate knew that she would live with the guilt forever if she survived and her friends did not. But there was nothing, nothing at all she could do about it. She felt so helpless, so unable to do anything of use, she could have wept.
The ships' officers were counting empty lifeboat seats, trying to judge how many more could be packed onto the boat. Kate looked around as well, trying desperately to convince herself that there was still room for her friends. There was, there had to be; Kate could count at least ten empty spots, maybe more if they squeezed together. And she only needed three: Mullins, Murphy and Barrett, Kate thought, just those three. They were right there, how could the officers not give them a spot?
"There're still enough places Jim, look," Kate said, breathless with hope. She pointed out the gaps in the lifeboat's passengers, "There's got te be room fer…"
Kate was interrupted mid sentence when the ship – the great indestructible Titanic – gave a deafening groan and tipped sharply to the bow. Up on deck many people were thrown off their feet; Kate saw the presiding officer scrabbling at the lifeboat davit to keep from being tossed overboard.
The lifeboat itself swung alarmingly on its ropes, bumping against the sides of the ship like a child's toy. Nearly everyone shrieked and several people were dislodged from their seats. By the time the boat stopped swinging, Jim had a hold of Kate so tightly that she was sure she was going to have fingerprints bruised into her upper arms.
Jim gave Kate a look of pure, undisguised alarm, "They better hurry it up," he said hoarsely, "else we might be makin' a swim fer it after all,"
The little boat lurched again, prompting another series of startled cries from her badly frightened occupants, but this time it seemed to be only the lifeboat that was moving, not the entire ship. Kate blinked in confusion and looked up at the Boat Deck. The officers had regained their balance and were now releasing the ropes that would allow this, the very last lifeboat to be lowered to the ocean floor. Kate shook her head; this couldn't be right, there were still people up there – Barrett, her girls – and there was still room on the boat. How could they be lowering it now?
But evidently the crew had taken the Titanic's horrible lurching as a sign that they could waste no more time, because they were lowering the boat, they were. "Wait," Kate said quietly, then again louder, "wait!" She spun on her seat to look at Jim, feeling all the blood draining from her face, "Jim, the girls, they're still…they aren't…"
"I know Katie," Jim said gently, with such a brutal, painful finality that she knew that once again he had seen the situation for what it was, where she had not, "I know."
Kate turned back to the ship, watching the rails rise further and further overhead. Stranded people pressed frantically against the railings, finally, too late, allowed to rush forward. Kate gasped in horror, the noise turning into something between a shriek and a sob halfway out of her mouth. She squeezed her eyes shut and whirled around to bury her face in the front of Jim's coat, afraid that if she were to catch sight of one of her friends abandoned on the ship's decks she would start screaming and never stop.
Jim's arms went around her and held her tight. Kate clung to him with all her might, as though afraid that letting go would cause him to disappear, as though somehow he too would be snatched away from her and that this time there would be no miracle to bring him back. "Oh my God," Kate whispered brokenly, horrible reality sinking its teeth into her flesh,"Oh my God, I've lost 'em, I've lost 'em both."
At an apparent loss for comforting words to say, or any idea how to make this right, Jim rested his chin against the top of Kate's head and stroked her hair with fingers that she could feel shaking as they moved through her curls. She wanted to tell him that she was far more comforted by the sound of his heart beating strong and alive in her ear than she could have been by anything he said, but she did not trust herself to speak without sobbing.
I'm sorry, Kate thought desperately, hoping that her thoughts might somehow reach Mullins and Murphy alone up there on the deck, that they might know that she knew how badly she had failed them, I'm so sorry. Forgive me. The lifeboat, heedless of her grief, travelled mercilessly downward, leaving the two dearest girls Kate had ever known far behind.
