Author's Note: Okay, it's official-- I have the world's best reviewers!! You guys are AWESOME with those reviews!!! Thank you so much for taking the time to do so. By the way, it's interesting that so many people are bringing up what the ending will be. Whether you're giving or suggestion or telling what you wish, just let me say: I've had what happens to Carrie and Thomas in my head from the time I finished the first chapter. Nothing is going to influence that, but it took one hell of a long time for me to decide what to do. I've got it, though. Everything is all worked out. I just gotta write it. Thanks for waiting for this chapter. Next one will be out soon as I can, cause I've got summer reading work to do yet, and school starts next Tuesday. Ick. As usual, reviews are appreciated. Thanks, and enjoy!!!

SEVEN

I got to the elevator only to see its operator barring the entrance with his arm. "I'm sorry, miss." he said automatically as I approached. "The lifts are closed."

I gritted my teeth to keep from saying something inappropriate. "Are the cables out?" I asked, struggling to keep my voice steady.

He seemed somewhat surprised that someone was questioning him; he seemed so used to the monotonous I'm-sorry-the-lifts-are-closed. "No, miss, but--"

"Are the boxes damaged?" I refused to back down.

"No--"

"Are the gates locked?"

"No, but--"

"Then take me down, damn it." I snapped. "I've got to get down there and I am not taking the stairs. Do you understand me?"

"I'm sorry, but I--"

"Have you ever had your nose broken?" I asked him calmly.

"What!?" he said, wide-eyed. "No, I haven't!"

"Then you'd better take me down if you don't want to find out what it's like," I spat, and all but shoved him inside the elevator. "D Deck, please."

He turned the crank, keeping his distance from me. D Deck was coming into view when I spoke again. "Look, sorry to push you around." I really did feel kind of bad for the guy. "This was important."

"That's alright," he said, though I could tell he was still pretty petrified as he pulled the gates open, and as he said unthinkingly, "Have a nice evening."

Yeah, right. I thought to myself, even as I stepped into the hall.

I turned a corner and was shocked to find that there were people milling around. There were stewards scattered about, trying to get people to move toward the main stairwell. I looked around for a familiar face, and caught sight of Bjorn Gundersen. "Bjorn!" I called over the din of talking people.

He turned, trying to find who it was who'd called just as I hurried up. "Bjorn, have you seen--"

He knew what I was about to say before I even said it. "Fabrizio and the Irish lad-- what's his name?"

"Tommy." I said breathlessly.

"Right-- they went running by a little earlier, heading for the top. And I haven't seen Jack anywhere."

"Really?" I said dully. Shit.

"Yeah, really." he said. "Now you get up top where it's safer."

Frustrated, not willing to give up, I tried again. "Could he have gone down below?"

Bjorn said, "I saw him going down about an hour ago, with a redhead girl, but he can't still be there."

"Right. Thanks." I hurried down the hall, knowing damn well that Jack could still be there. Down a stairwell, around a corner, and I found myself on E Deck in a maze of crew passages, closed doors every which way, no one in sight. It would be hell looking for Jack in this mess. "Dammit!" I cried, kicking one of the doors. I managed to chip the paint, but who cared? In less than two hours, no one would know.

"Someone out there?"

"Jesus!" I jumped a mile at the thick Irish voice that came from the other side of the door I'd just kicked. "Yeah, I'm here." I pushed open the door--

And stared right into the face of my attacker from the other day.

His wrists were handcuffed to a thick pipe, and he was standing on the other side of the tiny room, no more than five feet away from me. For a moment we just stared at each other, wide-eyed. "Holy shit." I breathed, and raised my voice. "Holy shit! It's you!"

"Please, Miss Stevenson." he said, looking purely frightened now. "Ye've gotta help me. The ship's sinkin' right from under us. Don't y'let me drown down here!"

"Give me one good reason why I shouldn't," I snapped, and was briefly reminded of Thomas' words to me Saturday evening. "You deserve it, if anything!"

"I know," he said, and I noticed that his eyes were red from recent tears. "I know. And I'm sorry for what I did to y'Friday. I really am. I've had a lot of time to think about it-- but please, miss, y've got to help me. Drownin's me worst fear!"

"If I take off the handcuffs you'll attack me again." I said. "I'm not stupid, mack."

"I won't." he said, whimpering. "Y've got my word as an Irishman. At least let me have a chance to get out of this alive."

I wanted to leave him there, I really did. Yet I couldn't. I couldn't leave him facing certain death-- hell, that was right up there with murder. At least letting him go would give him a small chance, and that was better than leaving him.

"You swear you won't touch me?" I said threateningly.

"I won't."

"You do," I said thickly. "And I'll kill you." I didn't mean it. Not really. But, I thought to myself as I searched for the key, You might not have a choice if he won't let go of you this time.

I found it, a tiny brass one, and went to unlock the handcuffs, keeping my distance. When he was free, I snapped, "Now get the hell out of here before I kick you out myself."

He bolted without a second glance back.

"You're welcome!" I yelled after him, then stepped out into the hallway myself, heading down the corridor, looking for Jack. "Jack!" I hollered loud as I could. "Jonathan Nathaniel Dawson! Where the hell are you?!"

I stopped after rounding a corner, catching my breath. "Ja--"

I was cut off mid-sentence by two thick arms wrapping chokingly around my neck and pulling me backwards; I tried to cry out but my air was cut off. The arms released and I fell backward toward the floor. Just in time, I managed to roll as I hit the ground, avoiding much damage. I looked up and at the very man I'd just released from his handcuffs two minutes ago. "You goddam liar!" I snarled as I struggled to my feet. "You--"

He charged then; I dove out of the way and his elbow slammed into the wall instead of my stomach. As he tried to recover for his miss, I managed to thrust-kick him in the small of his back, sending him crashing into the wall; he recovered amazingly fast and turned again, grabbing for any part of me that he could reach. Caught a little off guard, I straight punched his nose, and then suddenly, just like last evening, I was trapped in a headlock.

"Give me your lifebelt!" he snarled as I fought for sight of the back of his knee.

"You bastard!" I yelled. "You can get a goddam lifebelt at the top of the ship!"

There was a tiny click, and a sharp steel blade was brandished in front of my face. "You'll give it too me if y'want to keep that face."

Oh. Crap. "Well maybe if you'd let off a bit I'd give it to you!" I said, staring wide-eyed at the switchblade. There was no way a lifejacket was worth my life. He did loosen his grip a little, and I quickly untied the lifebelt. He yanked it off over my head, re-pocketing the knife. "Ouch! Now look, you moron, don't you--"

He pulled back his fist and hit, in half a second. I reacted like lightning, blocking his punch and drawing his face into my oncoming fist, nose cartilage snapping under my fingers. The man cried out in pain as he sank to the ground and blood dripped down the sides of his face. Shaking violently, I began to back away. Without warning, he made one final lunge; I hit him again, and this time he stayed down, eyes rolling back into his head.

For a second I stared at him, then at the blood on my knuckles. "Holy shit." I breathed, fearing I really had killed him. Extremely wary, I bent down and touched his wrist, looking for a pulse. To my relief, I found one, and dropped his wrist. He was just unconscious, then. He'd wake up eventually-- and I'd be far away by then.

I began to step away down the hall, when suddenly the glow of the lights dimmed severely. I froze, horrified, watching the lighting waver from dark to bright, as though trying to decide which it liked better. I struggled not to panic as the lights remained dim; I couldn't even see the five feet across the hallway. If the lighting did go off, there was no way I'd ever find my way back up to the top. I'd be trapped, doomed to run the corridors blindly until the water spilled in and grew higher and higher until--

The lights flickered again and came back on, staying on this time. I let out a long breath of relief, then kept going. A minute later, a steward suddenly hurried around the corner ahead of me, and up the hall in my direction, a stack of lifebelts under his arm. His nose was bloody, and he looked half crazy. "Excuse me," I said to him as we approached, gulping.

He hardly glanced at me, but swept right on by with a "You shouldn't be down here."

"Wait a second," I said, hurrying after him. "Are there any more passengers down here?"

"None, miss, none!" he said, still rushing. "None worth staying for!"

"What are you-- Jesus, will you wait a second!?"

He did slow down a bit. "Miss, please, we've got to keep moving."

"Just tell me-- did you see a medium-height guy, brownish blonde hair, blue eyes--" Thinking of something, I added, "-- and he might have been with a redhead girl."

The steward hesitated. "Was his hair sort of longish?"

"Yes," I said quickly, thinking, He knows!

"I saw him above decks when the berg hit." the steward said. "With his redhead."

"Are you sure?" I asked him.

"Positive." he said, and hurried on by.

I took in and let out a deep breath. Jack was safe. And no matter where he was, I was sure he'd heard about how the ship was sinking. And. . . I looked down at the ground, which was now visibly listing. If he didn't know, he'd have at least gone somewhere to find out what the hell was wrong with the floor. Yeah. Of course he would have. Jack wasn't stupid.

I raced up the stairwell and found myself back on the crowded D Deck. I stopped another steward. "Can I take the main stairwell to get out of here?" I asked him, knowing there was no way I could get the elevator operator back.

"Of course, miss." he said, and brushed on by.

Halfway there, I stopped in my tracks, straining my ears for the odd sound I was hearing coming from the direction of the main stairwell. . . and then I realized. It was the noise of an angry mob-- of furious, fearful people. I heard shouting, even a few notes of wailing, and an overall sound of commotion.

Suddenly my breath caught in my chest. I understood why the mob was there. My feet moved under me; I practically ran toward the main stairwell. I remembered, very vaguely, Thomas mentioning the fact that there were gated sprinkled everywhere in the third class that were locked at night, mostly to keep the hard-partying steerage passengers away from the first class. No doubt the commotion was caused by the fact that the gate was locked.

A terrible, hot rage boiled inside of me as I hurried along, pushing past passengers on my way. How dare they keep people locked down here like common dogs!? Maybe, if the grandest ship on the face of planet earth wasn't sinking, it would be different. But the grandest ship on the face of planet earth was sinking, and we were trapped.

Without warning, I felt a familiar spasm of panic gripping my heart; my breath came short and I nearly slowed down. The panic had been brought on by one word alone: trapped.

The cold realization settled over me. Not only would we drown down here, but I'd never see Thomas again. Maybe not even Jack and Fabrizio, and Tommy. I'd never know if any of them lived through this, or if they'd ever know what had happened to me.

At that moment, I reached the stairwell and stared, wide-eyed, at the throng gathered. People were crammed on the stairs, around the stairs, everyone trying to get to the top, where the gates had been closed. On the other side of the gated, stewards were trying to shout at the mass to keep calm, but that only seemed to make the people shout louder.

This was madness. Somebody had to put a stop to this, and get them to open the gates. I wove in and out of passengers as I hurried toward the top of the stairs, toward the gate. I called to a mousy looking steward, "Open the gates!"

He completely ignored me.

"You can't keep us locked up when the ship is sinking right from under us!" I hollered, my knuckles white as I gripped the bars, my voice barely carrying over the sound of everyone else's shouting. I nearly slipped on the step from all the pushing, but a strong hand caught my shoulder; I looked up and into the eyes of Tommy Ryan.

"Ryan!" I said, shocked, but intensely relieved. "Thanks."

"Welcome." he said quickly, letting go of my shoulder. "What're y'doing down here?"

"Trying to find you guys." I said as we both stumbled against the heaving mass. "Where's Fabrizio and Jack?"

"Fabrizio ran off to find another way out, and I don't know where the bloody hell Jack is."

"Damn." I said bitterly, and was nearly knocked against the bars as somebody behind me got pushed. The shouting only continued to swell in volume.

"Can't understand it!" Tommy burst out, his voice slightly strangled. He looked toward the steward again, and cried, "Are y'going to drown every man, woman, and child below C Deck!?"

A man on Tommy's other side shook his head. "It's no use." he said, and turned to head back down the stairs.

Tommy's eyes locked with mine for a moment, then he looked toward the stewards again. My heart went out to Tommy; his expression was so pained, and hopeless-- not unlike the one that Thomas had been wearing earlier. "Will y'ever open the gates!?" he demanded.

"We'll open them when we get word." the steward snapped.

"Well how long's that?" Tommy wanted to know, but was ignored again. Furious, he snapped, "Y'can't keep us locked down here like animals; the ship's bloody sinkin'!"

"Tommy, this is ludicrous." I told him. "If they haven't opened them five minutes from now, then we have to move. We can't afford to waste any more time."

He nodded, slowly. "Right." he agreed, hands still gripping the cold bars of the gate. "You're right." We both looked back toward freedom as a steward stepped forward, a ring of keys in his hand.

"Bring forward the women!" the mousy steward was calling. "No men!" he turned to his friend with the key ring. "Unlock the gates," he said.

Tommy all but pushed me forward as Key Ring pushed a key into the lock. "What the hell are you doing!?" I said, twisting around to face Tommy. "You heard what he said! I'm not leaving unless it's with you!"

The Irishman stared at me, his expression desperate. "Carrie, don't--"

"I meant what I said, and I said what I meant." I told him, softening my voice. "If they don't let you out, we'll find another way. Got it?"

Tommy finally nodded. "Yes. I've got it."

The gates were pulled open two feet, and the shouting swelled in volume. A woman hurried through, and then the man behind her tried to pass as well. "No men!" the mousy steward was hollering. "No men!"

"What the--" I said, bewildered, as they tried to yank the gates closed again. And suddenly the crowd was done with being angry. The word now was 'enraged'. People struggled to get through the gates, but I watched, horrified, as the stewards forced axe handles through the bars, hitting the men to keep them back, trying to push them back.

"Lock the gates!" the mousy steward was shouting again, loading a small palm pistol and then brandishing it at us. "Lock them!"

My knees felt watery at the sight of the pistol. Why weren't they letting us out? They were willing to shoot us because we wanted to live!?

Tommy, absolutely shaking with fury, his eyes blazing, grabbed onto the bars again and bellowed, "For God's sake, man, there are women and children down here!"

The steward actually stopped shouting and stared at him.

Tommy wasn't finished. "Let us out so we can have a chance!"

The steward didn't move.

"That's it." Tommy said, pointing angrily at the steward before struggling to turn around. "We're finding another way out. Come on." I was right behind him as we fought through the crowd toward the bottom, so I heard him when he cried, "Jack!"

I looked up; there was Jack, along with the young DeWitt Bukater, Rose, at the bottom of the stairs. Despite the fact that both of them were soaked through with water, relief washed over me-- Jack was safe. "Tommy!" Jack said, just as surprised to see us. "Carrie! Can we get out?"

"It's hopeless that way!" Tommy said over the noise, just as I noticed that around Jack's wrists were what appeared to bee handcuffs that had been broken at the chain in the middle.

Jack himself was clearly racking his brain for any idea as he spoke. "Well, whatever we do, we've gotta do it fast."

"Jack!" the voice came from our left; I looked to see Fabrizio fighting toward us from one of the hallways. There was a light stubble over his chin, but his dark eyes were fierce as ever, and I again was relieved. We were all together-- for now. "Carrie!"

"Fabrizio!" Jack and the Italian exchanged a brief hug.

Fabrizio noticed that his shirt was damp, and glanced at Jack's, noticing that it was saturated with water. He turned back to us. "The boats are all going!" Fabrizio said, throwing a thumb over his shoulder.

"This whole place is flooded." Jack said quickly. "We've got to get out of here."

"There is niente thees way." Fabrizio told us, gesturing toward the corridor from which he'd just emerged.

Suddenly I remembered the hours that Thomas and I had spent poring over charts and blueprints, how he'd taken so much time to show me the intricate mazes of corridors in the bowels of the ship. "We should try that way," I said, motioning over Jack's shoulder toward yet another branch of passages, my voice nearly choked as I remembered sitting so close to Thomas, his expert hands gliding over the blueprints.

"What's that way?" Jack asked, blue eyes urgent.

"There's another way up," I said, remembering more clearly now as I forced myself to think. "A back passage. The stairs go right up to C Deck."

"Lead the way," Tommy told me, and I glanced at them all, seeing nothing but trust in their expressions. I had to get us out of this one.

"Okay." I said, pushing my way past Jack. "Let's go."

*^*^*^*^*^*^*^*^*

I stopped; Tommy and Fabrizio nearly ran into me. "Come on!" Tommy urged, but I was staring at the paths before us. I had two choices: continue straight, or go right, into another passage, and I couldn't remember which way the diagram had said the stairs were.

"I can't think--" I tried to explain, even as my mind whirled. I closed my eyes, tried to concentrate and quit panicking, breathe, dammit! "-- To the right." I burst out. "It's this way!" I led them through the corridor where people were still milling around. I felt nearly sick to my stomach when I saw a man trying to coax his wife to move; she was kneeling on the floor crying, trying to shout to her husband in what seemed like Syrian.

"Here it is!" I said as we rounded a bend and the stairwell I'd been looking for came into view.

"How'd you know all this, Carrie?" Jack asked as we all took the stairs two at a time.

"She's got the master shipbuilder for a friend," Tommy said; I glanced back and saw that savage gleam in his eye. "Or maybe 'friend' is an understatement."

"You're just jealous." I taunted him as we reached the top of the stairs-- and then I looked ahead. Cold adrenaline raced through my veins as I realized that I'd led us to a dead end.

There was another locked gate drawn across the hall hardly seven yards from the last step. Several people were clustered around it, trying to convince the steward on the other side to unlock the gate, but the steward was insisting on their return to the main stairwell.

Jack stepped ahead, taking my hand when he noticed me slowing. He pulled me through the tiny crowd and right to the front, our companions close behind. "Open the gates." he said, voice charged with anger.

"Go back down the main stairwell." the steward said again. I wanted to smack him.

"Open the gates right now!" Jack snarled, raising his voice, pointing an angry finger at the steward.

"Go back down the main stairwell like I told you!" the steward repeated.

Jack turned back to look at us, the anger gone, replaced by a look of utter hopelessness and defeat. I was sure my own face mirrored his. This was ridiculous. We'd never get out now. My throat tightened. God, this couldn't be hap--

In an instant the rage returned to Jack's eyes, and he spun around, releasing my hand to grab the bars. Shaking them so that they clanged loudly, he hollered, "God damn you sonuvabitch!"

It was so loud and forceful that I actually stepped back; I had no idea that Jack was capable of such anger. Wide-eyed, I watched him whip around, his eyes searching the tiny space of the corridor. He dove for a heavy wooden bench in the side of the hall, trying to rip it out of the floor, and I knew at once what he was doing. I ran to help; together we yanked it as Jack called, "Fabri, Tommy, give us a hand here!" The wooden part of the floor came up and splintered with the bench as Rose tried to move the bystanders out of the way of the gate.

Jack, at the back of the bench, facing the gate, face contorted with fury, shouted, "One!"

"Stop that!" the steward was yelling. "Stop that! Put that down!" his friend had already high-tailed out of there.

I was on the same side as Fabrizio; Tommy held the other side of the bench. My fingers tightened around the wood. "Two!" Anger coursed through me. Goddam stewards couldn't do this. We're human beings. Enough with the class system! "Three!"

We ran at the gates with the bench, Jack giving an almighty cry as we did so. The gates buckled slightly, but nowhere near enough. "Again!"

"Stop that!" the steward was still shouting as we ran at the gates; this time they were torn halfway from the wall, but it was enough; we dropped the bench over the gate. Fabrizio hopped through; I followed. Jack was next behind me, then Rose, and finally Tommy. "You can't go up that way!" the steward was still squealing. "You can't go th--" Tommy viciously punched him in the face, and the man went down.

We hurried up the hallway together and found another stairwell. The muscles in my legs burned as we climbed, but I took no notice. Instead I was thinking of Thomas, and how he'd told me that he would be on deck for awhile.

Keyword: awhile.

Please, God, don't let me have missed him.

I don't know how I'll be able to find him otherwise.