*Chapter 29*

One by one they made it up the ladder, with a few exceptions. Those who were too frozen, tired, or weak, had a rope slung under their arms, and were pulled up.

Just as Clara had promised, she excused herself for a moment, to take Bride to the hospital, with the help of Quartermaster Hitchens.

"I had a stupid lot in my boat," Hitchens complained, "They all wanted to row the boat, go back and pick up more passengers, and THROW ME OVERBOARD! And this lady, she was so vulgar, she just took command of the boat, pushed me right down, she did!"

"Well, if you were nicer to them, they wouldn't have treated you like that," Clara explained, trying not to laugh at Hitchens' exaggerated wording.

Finally, they pushed through the hospital doors, setting Bride down on a bed.

"I'll be leaving now, if that's alright," Hitchens said, as he edged out of the room.

A nurse scrambled into the hospital, wrapping heat packs around Bride's feet to help reduce the swelling.

Clara sat down on a chair beside Bride's bed, soaking it a little, from her wet clothes. Bride took Clara's hand in his own.

"Thankyou Clara, for bringing me here."

"My pleasure," she laughed.

"Do you know what happened to Jack? Is he still alive?"

Clara felt tears welling up, and started to force them back.

"Um, he died, Harold." Clara realised that she'd called Bride by his first name, and blushed, as she only called men by their first name is she was a very close friend. Well, she had grown quite fond of Bride, and was somewhat close to him.

Bride nodded, loose tears flowing off his face.

"Im sorry," Clara said, sympathetically.

"No, it's alright. Now I just have to find myself a new best friend, and a new assistant, that's all."

Bride tried to compose himself. Then he flashed a wide grin at Clara, which made her giggle.

Clara leaned down, and Bride took her in his arms, the both of them embracing for a few minutes.

Eventually, Clara pulled away from Bride, and bid him farewell.

"Goodbye, for now, Harold Bride."

"But not forever." Bride winked.

Clara strolled out of the room, and came to a long flight of stairs, leading up to the boat deck. Memories of Titanic's flooded staircase filled her mind, and she started to cry, deciding to take the elevator instead.

When she made it to the boat deck, Lightoller was waiting for her. Taking her in a big embrace, he spoke softly.

"I'm so glad you're ok, if I had've lost you, on that collapsible, when the wave washed over us, I would never have forgiven myself."

"Me neither," Clara said, and kissed him firmly on his lips.

When they parted, they walked along the deck, looking for anyone familiar.

Hundreds of widows wept in corners, while others were persistently asking stewards if they had seen their husband/son/brother.

Clara felt a tap on her shoulder, so she turned her head, to come face to face with Micheline, who was dry as a bone, and Claire, who was soaked from head to toe.

"Micheline!" Clara hugged Micheline, and Claire.

"Oh, yeah, I've been meaning to ask you, Michelle, where did you and my mom go, after our boat sank?" Claire asked, purposely calling Micheline, Michelle.