A/N: I promise I did not abandon this story! Believe me, it has been torture not being able to get to this story. I have been incredibly busy with school and work that I haven't had the time to dedicate my entire focus to this story. But finally I was able to find some time to give you all this chapter. My classes are almost over and I will be able to finish the story, and perhaps work on another. I have another plot in mind I think you will all like, but that will be after this story.

I have been thinking of this chapter for quite some time, and up until recently I knew how I wanted it to go. With some time to think about things, I became inspired to take it a different route, and I believe that you will all like it. Or hate me for doing this. Like it would be different from what I've done before.

"Help us!"

"Please!"

"Come back!"

"We're freezing!"

Shouts filled the otherwise quiet darkness of the early morning in the North Atlantic. The once massive, majestic ship was now beneath the waves, to never see the shining rays of the sun again. Passengers splashed in the water, praying that the lifeboats would come back.

He clung onto the deck chair as people swam by him. He thought he would have been far enough from the ship as it went down. While he didn't get sucked down as the ship went down, he wasn't able to get away from passengers who were also swimming away. As they swam by, they gazed over at him with pleading eyes to help them. "There's room for another," they conveyed to him. "Just move over and let me on."

He was barely staying afloat as it was. The water between the gaps in the wood soaked through the front of his clothing, freezing him down to his bones. Another person on and they would both be submerged in the salt water. He closed his eyes, avoiding the begging eyes that were on him. He knew what was to become of them if the lifeboats don't come soon. It made him wonder what was to become of him if the boats never came. Would he survive long being on the chair? Sure, he wasn't completely in the water, but he could still feel it soaking his skin. Would it be a few minutes? An hour? Or would he perish before everyone else? He didn't have long to think about it before his throat began to burn from salt water.

He opened his eyes to find himself under water, still clinging onto the chair. Between the boards he could see another person on top of the chair, pushing him under. The face was fairly visible, but he could see it was another man. Had it been a woman, he would have accepted his fate and let her stay on. He couldn't bear the thought of killing a woman. His face tightened. There was no way he was going to let some stranger take his spot, even if there was no guarantee that he would survive. If he stayed under, he knew for sure that he wouldn't make it. He owed it to his friends to try and make their dream a reality, even if he was the only one to live it.

With all his strength he pushed the chair back over, flipping the person back into the water. The man's head was right in front of him, facing away. Quickly, he jumped on top of him and pushed him under the water. The drowning man struggled, but he kept him under until there was no longer a struggle. He sighed in relief knowing that he had won, not just for him, but for his friends. Curious, he climbed off the man and turned him around. His face went pale white.

"Stinky?" Sid asked in horror at the lifeless body before him. "You were supposed to be dead when we jumped off the boat! My God, what have I done? Stinky!"

Stinky didn't answer. Fear was the lasting expression, forever plastered on his face. Sid pushed the body away from him and swam away, forgetting the chair and unable to look back. All he knew was he had to get away, even though he didn't have a plan to get out of the water. He just couldn't be there, knowing his friend's face was staring at him from behind.

A soft groan escaped from the barrier of her lips. Her eyes slowly opened to see the night sky gazing above her. A loud noise reached her ears. Shouts. She bolted up from the noise, only to be met with a pain in her head.

"Easy, dear," a soft voice beside her said. "You had a nasty fall. It's a miracle you survived with only a broken arm. Do you know your name?"

"Huh?" she asked, looking at the woman next to her. She looked familiar. She was fairly young, but was all too familiar. She soon felt the pain in her arm. She tried moving it, but to no avail. The pain hurt too much.

"Careful. Your name," she repeated. "Do you remember your name?"

"Nadine," she answered. "Mrs. Astor, is that you?"

"So you recognize me," Madeline answered. "As I recognize you. You are Rhonda's maid."

"That is correct, ma'am," Nadine said. "What happened? Why is there so much screaming?"

Madeline Astor looked at her with hesitation. "The Titanic sank. Those are the screams of the passengers in the water. They have grown softer over time."

Softer. That singular word made her dizzy. She knew what that meant, and it wasn't because they were being saved. They were dying. The dizziness became too much, and Nadine once again slipped back into unconsciousness.

Screams could be heard from the lifeboats, and it was more than Rhonda could bear. She covered her ears to try and block it out. It bothered more when the screams grew softer and she was unable to hear them anymore through her ears. Rhonda lowered her hands and looked over at Madame Aubart. Grief was stricken all over her face.

"Mon dieu. My poor Benjamin," Madame Aubart whispered. Rhonda opened her mouth to speak, but the mistress continued. "I know he didn't make it, so there is no need to try and convince me otherwise. If he was anything in his life, it was a gentleman, and he would have continued that until the moment he died. At least you don't have to worry about losing a man like this, Rhonda. You can't even begin to imagine the pain."

Rhonda chuckled softly. "I suppose I don't," she replied. She looked out to the ocean where the ship once was. All she could think about was Curly. She didn't know where he was, but she prayed that he was safe. However, as the screams of help dwindled, her fear that he would make it rose.

"Didn't you hear me?" Madame Aubart asked, snapping Rhonda out of her thoughts. Rhonda looked back at the French mistress.

"I'm sorry," Rhonda replied, shaking her head. "What did you say?"

"I asked if you knew where Lila was," Madame Aubart repeated. "I haven't seen her since before the sinking and I wondered if you knew if she got on a lifeboat."

"I don't," she admitted. In fact, this was the first time the entire night that Rhonda even thought about her former companion. She couldn't even remember the last time she saw Lila. The whole day had been a blur compared to the sinking. "I don't even know where Nadine is. She was supposed to meet with me on the deck, but she never showed up, so I had to have one of the stewards go retrieve her. Neither one returned by the time Arnold escorted me to the lifeboat." Her stomach churned thinking that Nadine may not have gotten on a boat. She owed her intact reputation to her maid, and she would never forgive herself had something happened to Nadine.

"I'm certain they are both safe," Madame Aubart assured. "I doubt they would have let any first class woman stay on the boat, even if one is a dairy farmer and the other is a maid."

It took all Rhonda had to not roll her eyes at the mistress. It was uncalled for her to say that. How was she even able to speak about it? She was the mistress to one of the most successful men in the world, and he was married! None of them were innocent, and Rhonda knew that. As much as she was mad about Lila blackmailing her, Rhonda knew that she wasn't any better. She caused heartbreak to some of her lovers and fear of someone worse than the devil himself in Nadine.

Rhonda could hear the few men that were in the boat talking amongst themselves. They were speaking softly, but Rhonda could make out a few words. She can tell that they were not planning on going back to help any of the people in the water. Her heart sank. She wanted to make sure that everyone she cared about was safe, but there was nothing she could do. And so Rhonda sat there, listening to the fading of the screams, waiting for something to happen.

Patty buried her face between her hands. Tears streamed down her cheeks when the metal scraping was replaced by shouts of people. Thousands of voices of people she helped in the past week. She served them food, turned down their beds, waited on their every whim. How many of them still survived? How many will be lost forever? But more importantly, is Harold safe?

She didn't know. She didn't know the answer to any of those questions. All she knew was whoever was in the boat with her are also survivors. They were stuck in a little lifeboat surrounded by death. Waiting. Waiting for something to come. Whether it be a ship or death, all they could do is wait.

"We lost another one, sir," one of the crew members said. Curly and Gerald looked over from their side of the capsized lifeboat to the voice. "I believe it was one of the men from the wireless. Phillips, I believe this one was."

"Try to keep him warm," the chief officer in the boat replied. "See if you can keep him warm. We already lost so many; we don't need to lose another."

He wasn't inaccurate. The steward and valet had seen several people drop into the ocean after spending time thigh deep in the water. They were both shivering, but were managing to cling onto life, if barely. It was a rocky night for them. The officer kept them moving to try and keep the boat afloat. As they continued into the night, men had dropped off and froze in the water. As of that moment, there were about thirty men still clinging onto the boat. The chief officer shouted into the early morning, asking for anyone nearby to help them. But alas, no one had come.

"Do you think we'll make it?" Curly asked his neighbor, the valet. Gerald shrugged.

"All that matters to me is that Phoebe is safe on a boat, surrounded by people who care about her. She is going to live a long, happy life, and I'm happy for her, even if I don't get to be a part of the picture anymore."

Curly smirked. "You really love her," he stated.

"For as long as I can remember," Gerald replied, adjusting his grip on the boat. "And what of Miss Wellington Lloyd with you? Would you try to establish a relationship with her after we get rescued?"

"That is, if we get rescued," Curly corrected. "And if we do, I'm not sure that a relationship would be in our best interest. She's an heiress, and I'm a former Navy soldier who now works as a steward with White Star Line. And how do you know about me and her?"

Gerald shrugged. "I saw the way you look at her, and the way she looks at you. And Nadine may have mentioned something about it to Phoebe. Despite what happened between the two of you, I know she cares about you, just like you care about her. If the both of you survive, I suggest that you at least maintain some sort of relationship."

"Well, she does owe me some compensation," Curly chuckled. "But it really isn't about the money. I became close to both her and Nadine in the past few days. I was able to help them establish a better relationship."

"You saved Nadine," Gerald included. "You got her out of that room. She's safe now because of you."

"Indeed, she is," Curly replied, rubbing his eyes. "I don't even want to imagine what would have happened if we didn't get her out in time."

Gerald looked at him carefully. "It appears that you care about her too."

"I care about both of them," he admitted, his teeth chattering. "They each mean something to me in their own way. Since we are talking about those we care about, what about Mr. Shortman? Do you think he will survive?"

"I'm not sure," Gerald replied, "but if he doesn't, then I know there will be someone who will go insane."

"Miss Pataki," Curly nodded. A few shouts were heard nearby. Both men turned to see that there were a couple of lifeboats coming over to help them. Shivering, they swam their way over to one of the boats. As they climbed in, they stayed close to try and keep warm. The boats rowed away, with some shouting that there was a ship nearby. But the prolonged exposure to the cold had become too much for one of them.

"Tell her I love her," he whispered to his as he took his last breath of air. The companion looked out into the horizon and saw a faint light shining.

"You were so close," he whispered. "We would have both been safe and alive, with the women we love. But I will tell her. That much I can promise you."

The shouting decreased over time, and Helga could feel herself losing hope. Arnold was still out there, probably in the water. Was he one of them who was still shouting? Or did his voice quiet a long time ago? She had to know. She had to find out. They had to go back. And she wasn't the only one who thought so.

"We need to make a decision," their designated officer said. "We should go back. We have plenty of room that we can have some people come in."

"They'll swamp us!" someone shouted.

"We'll all die if we go back!" another exclaimed.

"We must stay here!"

Helga looked around her disgusted. Either someone looked offended that the suggestion was either made, or their head was down, refusing to speak up. She gritted her teeth.

"Helga, don't," Phoebe advised. "It's no use now."

"No use?" she scoffed. Helga was going to accept whatever fate was meant for her and Arnold, but she couldn't any longer. She stood up in the boat, rocking it. Shouts came for her to sit down.

"Oh, pipe down, the lot of you!" she exclaimed. "Now listen. We have to go back. There are men still out there. Our men. Husbands, fathers, suitors. They deserve to live too, and they deserve to live with us. Do any of you want to be widows? Don't any of you want to know if they survive? We could be their only chance to live, and you want to stay here? We could make a difference here. Now, grab the oars and start rowing!"

The passengers avoided her stares, either looking at the bottom of the lifeboat or out into the ocean. Helga looked to her mother and maid for help, but neither one looked back.

"Et tu, Phoebe?" she asked. Helga shook her head. "If that is the case, then I don't want to be here with any of you."

Before anyone could stop her, Helga dove into the freezing water. She could hear her mother and Phoebe shouting for her to come back, but their voices grew smaller as Helga swam on. The boat wasn't going to follow her, and she could hear some of the voices saying she was a madwoman and suicidal. That may be, Helga thought, but at least if I die, I'll die trying to figure out the truth.

"I'm coming for you, Arnold," she whispered. "My God, this water is freezing!"

Her swimming slowed as she entered the field of bodies that jumped from the ship. Many lifeless eyes gazed upon her, causing her to shiver. She was certain many of them would have killed for her spot on the boat, and here she was, swimming away from safety, all for the chance that she may have one more time with him. None of those eyes were the green ones she desired to see.

"Arnold!" she shouted in a quivering voice. The cold was becoming too much to bear. She continued to swim until she was physically unable to move. There was still no sign of him. A single tear burned her frozen cheek. "I love you, Arnold, and I'm sorry."

"Did you hear something?" Arnold spoke through shivering teeth to Harold. The water in the boat was the cause of many deaths already. Arnold had lost count of how many people they dipped back into the water. They were able to start pulling their feet out of the bottom of the boat, but the cold had already done its work. The cold air did nothing to help warm them. In fact, it may have sped up the freezing process.

"No, I didn't," Harold replied, holding his body close to his core. He prayed internally that the cold from the water hasn't spread to his entire body. A rumbling came from his stomach. It had been hours since his last meal. Harold searched his pockets and managed to find a biscuit. It was soggy, but he didn't care as he inhaled it. He looked over at his new companion. "Sorry, did you want some?" he asked with his mouth full.

"No, thank you," Arnold replied. Quickly, he changed the subject. "Do you have any idea of what you are going to do when we get to New York?"

"You really believe we are going to make it out of here?" Harold asked incredulously.

Arnold shrugged. "Someone has to look on the positive side. Might as well be me. You must have some plans for when we got to America."

"My mates and me, we were planning on going to California. We were going to have this comedy troupe and be part of the moving pictures. Before that, I was going to take part of some eating competitions in Coney Island and raise money. I managed to get most of it by competing on the ship, but the money got left behind. Everything I had is now on the ocean floor. I don't even know where my mates are. At least my girl is safe on a boat."

Before Arnold was able to reply, another lifeboat rowed next to them. "We have space aboard. It's nice and dry and we have blankets to warm people up. We also need strong men to row while we look for any survivors."

Carefully, the last of the living in the collapsible boat hopped into the adjoining boat. Arnold looked around as he climbed in. There were few people on the boat, including one woman. She appeared to have been pulled out of the water. She lied at the bottom, covered up in blankets. Her face was hidden, covered by her wet, messy hair. One of the survivors told him that she was near death and it would be a miracle if she survived the night. Arnold said a silent prayer for her before he grabbed a blanket and wrapped it around him. He took an oar and assisted in the rowing.

"We found a live one!" an officer exclaimed.

"Help pull him out!"

Several men rushed to the side of the lifeboat, rocking it from side to side. Arnold held to the side, fearing to end up back in the water. The boat stabilized as the man was pulled in and wrapped in blankets.

"Sid, is that you?" Harold cried. Quickly, he rushed to his friend. Arnold smiled, happy that one of his friends made it through.

They continued rowing through the frozen field of the dead. Sid was the only other they found alive. Sighing in despair for not finding more, the boat rowed its way out.

"I think I see a light!" someone shouted. "Out in the distance!"

"It's a large light!"

"It looks like a ship!" another yelled.

"It is! Grab the flares!"

Arnold smiled to himself from the shouts of glee. Another ship. They were saved. "I'm coming for you Helga," he whispered to himself.

A/N: What a way to come back. Yes, I haven't lost my cruel, twisted humor during my hiatus from writing. In fact, I think it has gotten worse since I had just came up with the larger plot twists in the last few days. I literally came up with Sid killing Stinky as I was writing this, and I came up with Helga jumping out of the boat a while ago. Hope you are all ready for more!