Marianne- Monaco

…

Warnings for mentions of dead bodies, amputation and the briefest mention of suicide.

...

21 st April, 1912

…

"I take it the operation was a success."

Alin just glared at Érzsebét, folding and unfolding his hands. "Well, I'm not sure if losing both my legs and my family counts as a success."

"I meant it's good that the operation didn't kill you!" Érzsebét threw her hands in the air. She was sat in a creaky old chair beside his hospital bed, surrounded by similar patients either awaiting treatment or recovering from various injuries and burns.

Alin was sat upright, trembling constantly and wincing at the slightest movement. He kept jerking his arm out to touch his shins, but was met with flat blanket. The man was in constant pain, phantom limbs aching as he lay there, woozy, still recovering from an operation that left him exhausted and sore. His legs stopped just below the knee now.

"I wish it had, in all honesty," he closed his eyes, laying back down and resting his head against the pillow.

He'd been in hospital ever since he arrived in the country.

Érzsebét could still remember her first sighting of America, tall buildings peeking through the fog and evening gloom, so new and grand, though she couldn't take in their beauty. She couldn't allow herself to be thrilled with what she was seeing, because it felt so wrong to be seeing it without Roderich and Franz.

Neither she nor Alin found the experience all too pleasant as they stood on the deck with Francis and Elizabeth. It was a stormy night, lightening mixed with the flashes of hundreds of cameras whilst the fog horn blared above them. From the deck chair Francis had carried him to, Alin flinched at the loud noises and Érzsebét begrudgingly held his hand as his mind was forced back to the sinking, to the crashes as tons of metal were ripped apart and the enormous funnels fell into the ocean. Fell onto his family struggling in the water.

As the Carpathia drew closer to land, Érzsebét bade farewell to Francis and Elizabeth and carried Alin back inside, along with the other steerage passengers waiting to disembark. When the doors finally opened, she supported Alin as they crossed the gangplank onto dry land. The crowds were almost crushing. Other passengers- still in various states of shock- ambled past to search for loved ones, and members of different charity organisations rushed forward to cover them in blankets and offer new clothes to them. Érzsebét gestured to Alin's bandages, and they were somehow shown to the nearest hospital.

Alin hadn't left since.

"Well you're stuck here," Érzsebét smiled, taking his hand. "I'll look after you. It's the least I can do."

"Oh, I feel safer already," Alin replied flatly. Érzsebét responded by snatching his pillow and throwing it in his face.

"Well that was nice of you," he replied before throwing it back. It hit Érzsebét in the arm and earned them both a glare from a nearby nurse. Alin chuckled lightly before his smile fell and he sighed.

"I wish Tsvetan and Andrei were here…" he looked away; "no offence, but they'd know how to cheer me up."

"I'm also guessing them just being alive would eliminate most of the causes of your needing cheering up."

"Yes, definitely."

There was more silence between them. The same awkward, crushing silence that only came when both parties knew that neither particularly fancied the other's company.

"New job good?" Alin eventually asked.

"Yes, not too bad. Everyone there's nice. Tiring though."

Érzsebét had not expected to find work so soon. She'd only entered the tiny Italian restaurant- after dropping Alin off at the hospital- for a bite to eat as she looked for somewhere to stay. It was the early hours of the morning now and Érzsebét was quickly resigning herself to a night sleeping in an alley somewhere, until she struck up a conversation with the waitress, a young French girl whose Uncle owned the place. After Érzsebét explained where exactly she had come from, and what ship she had been travelling on, the girl- Marianne- had suddenly become more excitable, calling over her Uncle and three cousins so they could hear her story. Érzsebét told them all she could bring herself to, Marianne translating to her sympathetic family, and the old man running the restaurant placed a hand on her shoulder, mumbling something that Marianne translated as words of comfort.

They offered her a place to stay, in exchange for her cleaning services. Érzsebét was truly touched by the gesture, and amazed that humans could actually be so kind to one another. As devastating as these few days had been, they'd certainly shown her how beautiful people could be.

"There's a job open for you there too," she began, "if you want it. Old man Vargas says there's another room available at the restaurant, if you don't mind doing a bit of sewing and dish washing."

"I can handle that, thank you," Alin smiled; "truly, that takes so much weight off my shoulders… I feel a bit less useless now."

"You're not useless," Érzsebét said quickly before giving a small cough, "I mean, you're annoying, and stupid, but not useless. Or… entirely bad, I have to admit."

"If that is you giving a compliment, then I'd hate to see you giving an insult."

"I'll save my insults for another day. When you're feeling a bit less sore. Wouldn't want your feelings to hurt too."

"How kind of you," Alin rolled his eyes and didn't speak for a long while.

Érzsebét took a small book out of her coat pocket and handed it to him. Alin stared down at the faded, familiar Cyrillic and smiled.

"You kept it," he sighed.

"Did I have a choice?" Érzsebét pulled Andrei's shell and rag toy out of her other pocket; "you told me to look after these things while you had your surgery."

"Thank you," Alin held them all close; "I don't know what I'd have done if they'd been lost." He brushed a thumb over the doll's face, blinking back tears.

"I wager…" he began, "that you wish you had something to remember your family by too…"

Érzsebét narrowed her eyes; "of course. I'd give anything to have one small token…"

Alin gave the tiniest of smiles. "Look in my coat pocket."

Érzsebét stood up and made her way to the end of Alin's bed, where his coat was folded over the railing, and tentatively dipped a hand in one of the pockets.

"There better not be a mouse trap in here," she hissed; Alin just laughed.

"No, but that's a good idea!"

"Ugh, this is so gross," Érzsebét's fingers wrapped around something small and flat, and she pulled her hand out to reveal a tiny, dark ribbon.

"It seems in all the confusion of getting everyone ready to leave, I may have taken something that wasn't mine. An honest mistake."

"Franz's ribbon…" Érzsebét snaked the ribbon through her fingers, staring at it as she shuffled back to her chair. When she was seated again, she brought the ribbon to her nose, taking in the faint scent of her son. The son she would never see again. The son that would never grow up. She forced back tears.

"Thank you," she whispered.

"It's alright," replied Alin; "I'm only sorry I didn't grab something belonging to Mr Edelstein too. He seemed like a nice man…"

"He was a wonderful man," Érzsebét corrected. She clawed at her hair until it tumbled over one shoulder, and began pulling it into a messy plait.

"As was Tsvetan…" Alin wiped a speck of dust off the bible; "I wish I could read this. But I can't even read in my own language, let alone…"

"Maybe you could if you leant Bulgarian," suggested Érzsebét. She finished her plait, giving the ribbon one last sniff before using it to tie her hair in place. At least now she would have one small part of her son with her forever.

"Still wouldn't make any difference. Tsvetan was educated after his family fled to Moscow, remember? The book's in Russian…"

"I see…"

Alin wrinkled his nose, "and it's all I have to remember him by…"

"You still have the memories themselves."

"True…"

"Why did he care about it so much? Or enough to give to you, at least? He didn't seem like a religious man."

"He was- no more than any other man, mind you- but…" Alin paused as he carefully chose his words, "he had a… strange relationship with his faith. Or at least, he did after meeting me."

"Conflict?" Érzsebét raised an eyebrow.

"What an understatement," Alin closed his eyes, taking a deep, rattling breath before continuing; "he loved me- so much- but he was terrified of going to hell for loving me. The day we first kissed was the day he stopped going to church. Probably thought he'd burst into flames if he stepped into the building or something. Or he couldn't take the glaring statues. He was just so scared that he'd done something terrible, no matter how normal and… natural it felt being a couple."

"And he told you all this?"

Alin nodded slowly; "that morning after the service when we were up on deck. Andrei was toddling near the lifeboats and there was no one else about- it was too cold- and he just told me everything. I knew he was torn up about something ever since we met but…"

Érzsebét looked away. She remembered every time Roderich had expressed doubts about their relationship, and how he feared he would never be good enough for her. No matter how many times she told him she could never love another- and even after Franz was born- he was still convinced that she would be better off leaving him. She knew it was a scary situation, and knew roughly how Alin must be feeling, to have such a strong belief in your love only to be told it wasn't right by the one person who was supposed to be in love with you.

"Losing Tsvetan and Andrei at once- and watching them go- is definitely the worst feeling in the world," Alin began in a shaky voice, "but hearing that you're the reason the person you love contemplated hanging himself comes in close second…"

"He didn't…"

"Couldn't take the guilt, I guess. Still," Alin murmured as he ran a finger over the edge of the book cover, "at least now he knows he had no reason to worry. I hope."

…

Until a few months ago, Érzsebét had never even in her wildest dreams believed she would ever travel to a country outside of Austria-Hungary. Her journey through France- with her husband and child on their way to a new life- had proved that wrong. The prospect of going to America- a new country across the sea filled with so many opportunities- was an even greater cause of joy for her.

Of course, that had turned into tragedy.

But now she was on a train hurtling through yet another new country. Only this time she was staying for just one night.

She was not fully paying attention as she crossed into Canada, focused on trying to quell her rising panic. She might be seeing them again. Not alive, of course, and that was the problem.

Could she honestly face seeing their dead bodies?

She had been informed that the Mackay-Bennet had been chartered to collect the bodies from the sea for relatives to claim, and they'd been taken to the address she had before her. The Mayflower Curling Ring in Halifax? Sounded like an odd place to take bodies to. Still, that wasn't her most pressing concern right now.

What state would they be in? Could she handle such a sight? Their sunken eyes staring up at her? The sight could be enough to evoke a dangerous amount of guilt. They'd been out there for over a week now and she honestly didn't think she could get through the whole day.

She didn't even have Alin to distract her. He could at least break the silence every now and again, tell her they would be fine. Or at least share in her fears. But he was back in hospital, still recovering from his operation and still unable to move. She supposed it was time to start saving up for a wheelchair for him, once she'd paid the hospital fees…

It was a good thing she found a job so soon because life in America was getting real expensive real quick.

Érzsebét wondered how it was possible to become so dependent on Alin's company in such a short space of time, given that they'd despised each other from the moment they'd met. She knew she was free to walk out of his life forever and not have to worry about taking care of him, and he wouldn't resent her for it, but couldn't. She couldn't leave him alone in that state. Then again, neither truly had anyone else to care for them. Not any more.

Although he would never replace Roderich in her heart- or even come close- Érzsebét knew she was treating Alin like she would her husband. It was supposed to be Roderich that she carried around and looked after, Roderich that she saved up to buy a wheelchair for.

Alin had told her not to bother looking for Tsvetan and Andrei- that they'd gone down with the ship- but she had to be certain. She owed it to that aggravating man lying in a hospital bed back in New York, and to Roderich and Franz, who had valued the other family's company greatly.

Érzsebét ran her fingertips over her plait again, brushing against the tiny ribbon.

The train rattled onwards, and she sat in agonising silence.

…

Érzsebét was surprised to find policemen and soldiers outside the curling rink, but soon realised they were simply there to keep morbidly curious members of the public at bay. They would probably be there for the next few weeks, as family members arrived from both sides of the Atlantic in the desperate search for their loved ones, but thankfully the residents of Halifax gave the place a wide berth, to give mourners the space they needed.

Érzsebét was greeted by mortician- a young, kindly man- outside the building, who led her through a corridor into a large, dimly lit room, where rows of body bags lay on tables. There were others being led past rows of bodies by morticians, but Érzsebét didn't stare at them.

Érzsebét's first thought was that it was freezing. The ice rink of the curling club wasn't cold enough to match the conditions in the North Atlantic, but it was the perfect temperature to store dead bodies in. She couldn't help remembering though. As she shivered, her mind cast back to when she was stood on that upturned lifeboat, ice in her hair and too exhausted to shiver. Crying out feebly for her family.

Maybe it was fortunate after all that Alin couldn't come with her.

"So, Miss," began the mortician, who'd introduced himself as Mr Jones, "who are we looking for today." He tried to give a reassuring smile, and remain professional, but Érzsebét could see the day was taking its toll on him.

"Two men and two children. Steerage."

"Well, let's start with the children," Mr Jones led her to the end of the room containing the smallest body bags. The very sight of it tore Érzsebét's heart.

"Yes, two small boys. One aged six with long blond hair. The other aged three with dark hair."

"Well, we'll soon see if they're here." Mr Jones walked over to the nearest body and unzipped the covering. Érzsebét only needed one quick glance to tell her that the dead child was neither Franz nor Andrei.

"No?" Mr Jones sighed, pushing his glasses further up his nose. "Never mind. We'll just try again."

…

Érzsebét was more than a little ill by the time she stumbled onto the sunny street outside the curling rink. After an hour of forcing herself to stare at broken, decomposing bodies, she finally accepted that Roderich and Franz were not among them.

She couldn't get the images out of her mind. Hundreds of men, women and children lying frozen, some with bruises covering their faces. Some barely dressed. Some in little more than rags. Some of the faces were twisted into expressions of agony, whilst others conveyed terror.

The children had been the worst. Tiny, fragile bodies, cold and stiff, wrapped in coats that did nothing to protect them from freezing to death. Children with bruises and broken bones. Children whose faces had been attacked by seabirds as they floated lifeless in the water. Children who would never see their next birthday, like Franz and Andrei.

Érzsebét began walking along the pavement, not caring too much about where she was headed to. She ambled along in deep thought. Maybe it was best that Roderich and Franz's bodies hadn't been found. At least this way she only had memories of them when they were alive, perfect and unbroken. They would always be how she last saw them: alive, very much alive. Roderich's loving, tearful, smile. Kissing Franz's soft, warm forehead plastered with fine, silvery hair.

She reached another deserted lane, and ran into a young man as he left a small shop, face buried in a newspaper.

"Sorry," he said in a quiet voice, smiling apologetically and folding the newspaper under his arm.

"Likewise," she mumbled, taking in his appearance. A few glances told her he had soft, bouncy hair and glasses, but what interested her most was his sailor's attire. When she enquired about it, he nodded sadly.

"Yes, I just got back from a trip on the Mackay-Bennet… Oh, my name's Mathew."

"Érzsebét."

Mathew looked at her curiously; "you're… you've come to collect a relative, haven't you?"

Érzsebét nodded. "My husband and son."

He pulled his mouth into a grimace. "And did you find them?"

"No, I did not."

Mathew nodded, "I see. Sorry to hear you were unsuccessful."

"It's probably for the best…"

"Yes. I'm sorry I couldn't find them though. But we only found less than 200 people altogether. And a lot were buried at sea…"

Érzsebét's head shot up at that; "you buried people at sea too?"

Mathew took a step backwards. "Um, yes, but only the ones who were too disfigured to be recognisable!"

"So there's a chance you saw my husband and son?"

"Didn't you hear what I said?" Mathew asked nervously, "the ones we buried were unrecognisable!"

"Can I at least ask?"

Mathew thought for a moment before sighing. "Fine, go ahead."

"Well, my son has long blond hair, down his back. He was six…"

Mathew shook his head; "doesn't match the descriptions of any of the children I saw."

"What about my husband? He has dark brown hair and glasses. And a mole on his chin. He was wearing a thick coat over a nightshirt and trousers. Very skinny. Pointed face. Long, thin nose."

Mathew looked away.

"You didn't see him either?"

"No, I… I think I might have." Mathew didn't continue and Érzsebét growled.

"Yes? Well?"

"I… don't know how to tell you this…"

"There was something wrong with his face?"

"Yes, in a sense," Mathew shook his head, "look, I'm not sure I should be telling you this…"

"Please do. I must know what happened to him!"

"I found… I found a body- a man- matching your description. Most of his limbs had fractures. Large ones, that seemed to have shattered the bones in several places. His ribs and pelvis were the same way. And his back had snapped too."

Érzsebét covered her mouth with her hands. "Oh God, Roderich…"

"I don't think that's what killed him though," Mathew continued, looking visibly uncomfortable.

"Oh?"

"There was something odd about his face. Something other than the bruises and the marks from seabirds."

"What kind of odd?"

"It was like it had collapsed down one side. One half was fine, but the other drooped down, like it had deflated or something. It was very strange…"

"Anything else?"

"Not that I can remember."

Érzsebét placed a hand on Mathew's upper arm. "Thank you, sir. Thank you for everything."

...

White Star Line chartered several boats to pick up bodies in the Atlantic after the sinking; the Mackay-Bennet was the first, and the ship that picked up the most bodies. The Titanic victims were then taken to Halifax, Nova Scotia, Canada, as that was the nearest city with rail connections to America, so relatives could claim the bodies easier. The Mayflower Curling Club was transformed into a temporary morgue, due to its size and the amount of ice it contained.

Roderich's side condition- which ultimately killed him- was a stroke. During the day before his death, he had suffered a series of transient ischaemic attacks, or mini strokes. These have the same symptoms of a stroke, but only last for a few minutes, and are usually precursors to a real stroke.

The thing to remember about strokes is to think F.A.S.T.! Meaning- Face, Arms, Speech, Time to call an ambulance.

Face: If one side of their face is drooping, or they cannot smile.

Arms: Can they lift both arms? Or only one?

Speech: Can they speak clearly? Is their voice slurred?

Time: If they're showing any of these signs, then call the emergency services!

…There are probably NHS videos that explain it better. You all should probably watch some.

Sorry for the lecture… Again, not a doctor so please read this up for yourself.