If she had counted correctly, seven lifeboats have been launched from the Titanic, and if her eyes hadn't been betraying her, none of them had been filled to their maximum capacity. The deck of the ship was flooded with panicked bystanders, and below, she could only imagine there were many more who were expecting their deaths. Estimating how many lifeboats remained, including the emergency ones, there were only fourteen left - not nearly enough for even the passengers on the decks.
Erza brushed her bangs out of her eyes, sighing. Had it not been for the sinking ship, she might have been back in her room, enjoying a slice of strawberry cake, or maybe her evening on the deck with Jellal might not have come to such an early end. Had fate not intervened, the night would have been perfect, but she still didn't mind helping passengers.
"It's better to be of use than to be a bystander," Erza had been told countless times by her mother and father, which might have been the reason they had accepted Jellal into their open arms. She looked over to him, smiling when she saw him. She grew worrisome at the thought of losing him to the ocean, but she tried not to mind it - they would both make it to America alive, she told herself.
"Is everything alright, Erza?" Jellal asked, paying her some mind in the crowd. He approached her with ease, slipping between the gaps of people as they walked and paced. He took her hand, furrowing a brow with worry as she nodded. "You look tired - it's best you get to a lifeboat already."
"You don't listen much, do you?" Erza asked, laughing to herself. "I'm fine. I will be boarding a lifeboat with you, even if that means falling into the water first. Besides, I'd like to get as many people into the boats before they're all gone."
Jellal sighed, biting his lip. Careful not to tear the flesh as he gnawed with worry, he agreed to her declaration, which were more so of demands that he shouldn't complain about. When Erza said "fall into the water," a shiver ran up Jellal's body, starting from his toes and up to the top of his spine. As little as he wanted to fall into the water, it was probably inevitable.
"What time is it?"
The aquamarine immediately responded to the sound of Erza's voice, removing his watch from his pocket. "It's 1:20, about," he answered, pressing closer to the redhead. She nodded, rubbing her index finger to her lips. With her head tipped slightly, she closed her eyes to think. Jellal looked around, careful not to keep his eyes rested on her for too long.
Without a word, Erza took long strides as she moved across the deck with grace. Jellal followed close in tow, careful to be near her for every beckon call. They wandered along dipping in and out of the crowd, peeking over the shorter heads in the crowd. For what felt like the longest duration of time, as the freezing weather nipped at their skin, they guided others into the lifeboats, one by one.
At the pace the lifeboats were operating at, there was little Erza could do to assist anymore men. She could no longer bribe the crew into allowing a few on with the money she had in her pocket (which was almost empty, anyways), and the boats were leaving quicker and emptier than they should have been. She would cuss under her breath whenever she saw another leave, and the words that left Erza's mouth got harsher as time passed and the lifeboats got less filled.
When Erza demanded an explaination from the ship employees, they frantically looked to one another as she scowled at them. Despite the modern view of women, the men were fearful of Erza - her temper as red hot as her hair, and when she took a fistful of cloth as she shook at one of the men, he searched his fellow employees for an answer. The only one he could stutter out was, "The faster the lifeboats leave, the better the chances are of the passengers on them getting away from the ship!"
"And what about the ones here? And the ones leaping into the water!? Explain the situation for those men and women!"
"I-I-"
"Erza," Jellal called, his voice interjecting the stuttering man. "Please restrain yourself. You'll get in trouble, and at worst, you might get shot." Jellal gestured his hand to his own belt, which was bare, but the hot-tempered redhead looked down to the belt of the man she was shaking and those of the other crew, and let go. They were all armed with pistols, and it wasn't in her agenda to find out if they were loaded or not.
"Excuse me," Erza said, shooting one last fierce look at the men. She hoped that they, at the least, would lower their own lifeboat with more than ten women and children. As they walked away, she looked to Jellal. "You actually spoke up."
"To whom? You?" Erza nodded. "Of course, Erza. What if you had gotten yourself shot? Or hit? I would have to step in with violence, myself. You would, too."
Erza huffed. "I wouldn't tolerate anyone hitting me." When Jellal said he wouldn't expect any less, the redhead continued. "I'd probably push them off the boat if I was mad enough," she joked.
"Don't say it as if you don't mean it, Erza. Knowing you, you probably would."
As they chattered back and forth as they walked, keeping their eyes open for anyone in distress, Erza cut herself off as she spoke, falling silent quickly, and vanished into the crowd. Jellal turned, noticing that she was gone, vanishing into the crowd of suits and gowns, trousers and nightgowns, and she didn't resurface within a minute.
The crowd didn't silence, but it was as though Jellal's own ears sharpened. He could hear a soft wailing of a child, and Erza's voice. The child wasn't too young, Jellal assumed, and when he spotted Erza's halo of scarlet hair, she was holding the hand of a young girl, and she was ushering the small child towards a lifeboat, where a woman stood with the same shade of gold for her locks. She opened her mouth to express an emotion, and the child rushed towards the woman. A mother and daughter, possibly, and they were reunited after being separated in the crowd.
Jellal earned himself a few complaints from passing by men, as he was standing in the middle of the path, staring at God know's what. He muttered an apology and moved out of the way, and his brows were knitted together in worry as he approached Erza, who felt no need to apologize and patted him on the shoulder.
"2:00," Loke muttered. With his back still pressed to the gates that were confining him to the lower part of the ship, he listened to the silence. The hundreds of passengers locked on the same floor and ones lower had probably given up - some even returning to their rooms to settle down for their last rest. "There's still some hope..."
Off in the distance, the ginger could hear the flow of water and the sound of steel slowly giving way to the surge and weight. There was a deep slant that forced him to grip the bars so he wouldn't eventually fall. Lights flickered before him, but the ones at his back were normally fine. Third class was about to fade away and the names and stories that belong to the people wouldn't be inscribed.
Why? Because nobody would remember them.
Pulling out a photograph from his coat pocket, Loke ran his fingers across it. What a loser, he thought about himself. He was still carrying that photo - the last one of him and Aries. He laughed, wondering what would have happened if the money had made it to Ireland instead of burning away on the sea. He probably wouldn't have met Gray on that fateful day, neither would he be on the Titanic. If he wouldn't have boarded the ship, he wouldn't have met Cana or Natsu, either. Because of the awful day the remainder of his money went up in flames, his life improved by the people who entered it...
"You're not giving up yet, are you?" Cana's voice.
"No," he replied to the faceless voice, running his hand over the photo one more time. "I don't want to... Not here."
"Then get off of the ground."
Complying, Loke hauled himself up to his feet, hoping he would give in to the voice in his head and muster up the strength to look for another exit. Turning to give the metal gates one last time he choked. Cana stood there, on the other side of the bars, taking a sip from her flask. She capped it as soon as she saw the look of confusion on Loke's face, which was wide-eyed and his jaw dropped. Gods, if the space between the bars weren't so thin, she figured she might have taken her hand and slapped his face, squishing it so his mouth shut. "You'll catch flies," she might have said.
She furrowed her brow. "Took you long enough. What? You look like you've seen a ghost."
"W-why are you here!?" he shouted, shoving the photo back in his pocket. He moved closer to the gate, as well, gripping it with his hands. With his forehead pressed to the chilled metal, ignoring the rattling he had caused from his abrupt movement to grab it, she flicked his forehead.
"Did you think I would be leaving you down here by yourself? You idiot... I told you I was coming up, and now look at the situation you've put yourself in!" She ignored him being pulled aback from being flicked, rubbing his forehead, despite the pinch of guilt she felt for it.
Loke chuckled nervously. "I'm not here only for you... I'm also here for other women- people," he corrected, "you know..."
"Worry about yourself, too!"
"You're down here, as well, you know."
"I'm not the one on that side of the bars."
The comment caught him off guard, and sudden realization hit him once more. For a moment in time, he had forgotten that he was on the wrong side of the bars - the side that meant he was fucked over.
For the most part, despite the two's conversation, the halls were quiet. There was the hushed hum of conversation, dulled from the distance, but there was commotion, Loke knew. He could feel the weak vibrations beneath his feet, and he knew from the depths of his heart that the third class wouldn't settle for being left for dead. Cana hadn't, especially, and she wasn't going to allow Loke to, either.
"It's been two hours since the ship was hit, I think," Cana said, placing her hand over Loke's. After the long hour of chilling temperatures of being alone, the brunette's warm touch was welcoming. She was placing her hand over his to soothe his anxiety, because she could see him tapping his foot against the floorboards and there was even a drop of sweat falling from his brow, indicating heavy burdens in his mind.
"Jesus fucking Christ," Loke said, his voice raspy and harsh. The tone caused a sinking feeling in Cana's chest, catching her off-guard, and her grip around Loke's hands tightened. She turned to scream for help, but no one called back. No one would.
"The ships tilting like a bitch already and there's probably thirty minutes left on us."
Cana nodded, accepting the harsh truth. She gripped her hands tightly, biting her lip. Loke could only do the same, and they stood in silence for several seconds.
The sound of rushing water pulled the two from their trance that they were locked in,causing the ginger to rip his hands out from under Cana's. He turned to find the source, and stepped back, pressing himself against the barricade as he watched water tumbling up the steps. "Fuck, fuck, fuck..." he muttered, turning towards his comrade.
"It's time for you to go," he said. He shook the bars, causing her to step back. She looked past his body to watch the edge of the flow creeping closer, closer closer... It passed their shoes, and again, she could feel it soaking her toes for the second time that night. She didn't looked phased by the cold, but she was. Already, her blood felt degrees lower, as well as the room. Loke shouted that she needed to leave again, and before she could take a step, she pulled out her flask.
"Take this," she said. "Drink it. You're going to need it more than me."
"What?"
"You won't feel as cold if you drink enough. It's expensive, so make your last drink worth it."
"To seeing everyone again," he said.
"To seeing everyone again," Cana repeated, her voice shaking.
Loke brought the metal up to his lip, quickly downing the alcohol Cana had stored in it. It was bitter and sweet all at the same time, stinging his throat as it went down. It burned, and he felt like he was on fire from the inside, and he could feel the warming effects kicking in almost immediately. The water at his feet was becoming bearable, and he topped it once more. Handing it back to the original owner, he nodded slowly.
"I'll see you guys when you take your last breaths," Loke said.
"And we'll see you," she replied.
They slipped their hands through the bars, and shook them one last time. Cana couldn't stifle the tears from falling from her eyes, drowning out her vision. Her face contorted as she wept, wailing under her breath. Loke couldn't swallow or breathe, and beneath the heavy coat, he was shaking. Cana could feel his hands trembling, and it felt as though her heart had been torn out of her.
A pout turned down both of their lips, and Cana let go. Turning away, she muttered, "Rest well, you hear? Don't worry anymore."
She took slow steps, her sobbing unstoppable and her vision blurred. She stared down at her feet as she walked, unable to see where she was going. Lights blurred together, dark masses occupying the corner of her vision. Cana failed to turn back to the place where Loke stood, but she knew he was crying, slumped against a wall.
Despite our time together being short, it meant more to me than anything in the world.
A/N: Please leave a review on this chapter! I apologize for taking so long to come out with something, but my writing block was so massive. I promise, though, this isn't the last you'll see of Loke. I'm interested to know if anyone cried? I cried writing this, and I had the piano version of the 2014 main theme playing while I wrote. Ahh, I'm a big crybaby!