The day of April 15th, and the weeks that followed, existed to Ariel in frames, as a surreal series of pictures that made up a relatively short period in her life.

Carpathia had rerouted to New York, battered by storms and rough seas and docking under the cover of a thick fog, as though the sky itself drooped under the weight of this new tragedy. It could not, however, hide the tens of thousands of forlorn faces that greeted the survivors as they disembarked, nor the deathly silence that accompanied them.

This was the first frame, the first sight that greeted Ariel as she disembarked with Cory suspended in her arms and Eric carried upon a stretcher beside her. She remained dutifully by his side, keeping her head low as the flashes of photographer's lamps illuminated the otherwise grey scene in a way that many deemed as cruel.

The second frame featured a boy and his father, reunited against the odds, the latter so overcome with relief that he fell to his knees when his son was once again safe in his arms. Edith stood beside them, smiling up at the heavens.

That wouldn't be the last time they saw the Irishwoman, for she had assured Ariel that her brother had rooms to spare; and that she, Cory and Eric would be welcome to stay with them for as long as they needed.

In actuality, Eric was taken to a nearby hospital, where he would undergo surgery and spend the next three weeks wrapped in a cocoon of blankets, building up the strength to rejoin them. Not a day passed when Ariel was not at his bedside, and she watched as, day by day, colour gradually returned to her beloved; the third frame.

Eventually, in mid-May, just a week prior to Cory's fourth birthday, the trio returned to Southampton and made directly for Eric's house. They left Edith with a open invitation to visit whenever she pleased, and a promise to write often.

Grimsby had answered the door when they arrived, his features frozen in shock, a thousand questions no doubt forming in his mind. He embraced Eric with the love of a father and, for the first time, did not question Ariel's attendance, even as Eric took her hand and lead her over the threshold. Carlotta was notably less composed, and fretted over the state of her boy, and over Ariel and Cory too. When she had asked if they would be staying, Ariel had looked to Eric and, with only a dimpled smile, he had answered all of her questions and chased away any lingering doubt that she wouldn't be able to stay here with him.

Her old home, when later that day she returned to pack up what few belongings she and her son owned, didn't feel like a home at all. In truth it never had, and in knowing that she would never return she felt no sorrow. With her possessions in a single box tucked under her right arm, Ariel had cast one last look over a place blackened by fear and anger, and ended that chapter of her life, letting the door fall shut.

That night, and for many nights after that, Ariel and Cory slept in comfort and safety in the spare room of Eric's—of their—home. As content as they were, all three suffered nightmares as a result of their ordeal, waking up screaming, or gasping, or both. Eric dreamt of drowning, and of being unable to muster the strength to save either Ariel or Cory, forced to watch their struggles helplessly. Ariel dreamt of Warren, one of his thick hands around the throat of her little boy, the other upon the trigger of a gun, held against the temple of the man she loved. Cory dreamt of being alone, of having no one to love him and no one to hold him. Often, unable to get back to sleep, Ariel would retreat downstairs—sometimes with Cory if he too could not rest—to find Eric sat in the living room, his red eyes and white face matching her own, and they would remain wrapped in each other's arms for hours.

Cory's birthday had never been much of an event, Warren had ignored it altogether and Ariel had never been able to give him as much as she would have liked; it had been like any other day.

This year would be different. In the days leading up to it, Ariel and Eric purchased toys and books and clothes and sweets, and the way her son beamed that morning had brought tears to the eyes of the young mother. After each present, he had hugged her and Eric in turn—taking care not to touch the latter's shoulder, which would remain strapped in a sling for another two weeks—though Ariel had felt that Eric deserved the bulk of his thanks, he had bought the gifts after all. Of this she felt admittedly guilty, despite Eric's constant reassurance that everything he owned was now equally hers.

After a breakfast of scrambled eggs and toast, the three of them had walked down to the beach upon Cory's request, and he shrieked with excitement as he was swung through the air, supported between his mother and new father. They watched him now from the dunes as he ran past them, his new kite flapping in the breeze.

Ariel wished that she could freeze this moment, but there would be others like it, of that she was certain.

So caught up in her reverie was she, that when Eric's fingers brushed the back of her neck she startled, her head snapping towards him. He looked pensive, she thought, his attention not on her but behind her, fingers still working about the soft tresses at the base of her neck. Only after a moment did she realise that the object of his attention was rather the silver chain—and, more importantly, the ring still suspended beneath her bodice—that was fastened there, somewhat difficult to unclip with one hand. The young mother reached behind her head and prised the two clips apart, before placing the loose chain and its precious cargo into Eric's palm, though quite what he wanted with it she wasn't certain.

Eric held the ring between his thumb and index finger, studying it's three little gems as they twinkled in the late morning sun, and allowed the chain to slip freely onto the sand, where it landed silently. He remembered the day that he'd bought it, how he'd fretted over whether or not Ariel would like it. He remembered the day he found out about her engagement to Warren. He'd imagined how this moment might be, what he might say, and yet it seemed so simple now; after all, he'd done all but ask her already.

With only four words Ariel's heart soared, and every burden and fear she had ever felt left her in that moment. There was no question as to what her answer was and, as her lips connected with Eric's, their skin warmed by late spring and their son playing happily alongside them, there seemed not a more perfect place on earth.

Author's Note

That's a wrap! I've so enjoyed writing this story and hope that it has been equally enjoyed by anyone reading it. My heartfelt thanks go out to everyone who has inspired me and encouraged me to keep writing, be it through reviews, messages, or by simply following the story or adding it to their favourites list.

Hopefully there are many more stories to come.

Thank you!