As Cal sat on the small bed, he barely noticed the rocking of the ship, though it dipped and swayed with each passing wave. The Carpathia was significantly smaller than the Titanic and moved with the water on which she sailed instead of charging through it. There was a ringing in his ears, blocking out the nervous inquiry of the ship attendant who stood just beyond Cal's peripheral. His unresponsive gaze remained locked on the wallpaper across the room as he fixated on the curling shapes. It was a floral pattern. Twisted stems connected one repeating image to another, reaching between the exploding blossoms with thorn covered limbs.

The pervasive ringing began when he heard the screaming. So many voices, crying out from the frozen darkness long after the great ship vanished beneath the waves. Even after the last whimper was gradually taken by death's silence, the ringing in Cal's ears persisted, building in pitch until it reached this current, terrible tone. Cal was ready to lose himself to its madness when the porter's voice suddenly broke through. Something clicked. Cal blinked and the noise was gone.

Feeling the weight of an unanswered question, he turned and appraised the man who stood in the open doorway.

"Mr. Hockley?" The porter asked again, his voice hesitant. "I'm sorry to disturb you, Sir, but the Captain is now allowing passengers to move about the ship. If you're still interested in going below deck, you can do so."

Sorting through his hazy memory, Cal vaguely recalled making this request and the motivation behind it. As semi-conscious thought resurfaced, he cleared his throat, summoning a voice that felt as if it hadn't been used in years. "Thank you. Yes, I think I will." And rising on stiff legs he moved toward the door.

"Sir?" The attendant said cautiously, pausing Cal's departure. "It's just that… well, it's very crowded in steerage and, understandably, emotions are high. It might be best to leave your daughter here while you conduct your search."

Daughter? With those words Cal suddenly recalled the weight in his arms. He looked down, taking in the head of blond curls that rested against his shoulder, the light lashes that fluttered against tear-stained cheeks and the slow breathing of exhausted sleep that brushed against his collar. How strange that he could have forgotten her. The ache that persisted through his arms, shoulders and back from carrying this tiny person felt so familiar. This discomfort was a part of him now, a welcomed pain that reminded Cal that he wasn't alone. It was only once he loosened his grip on the child that he realized just how tightly he'd been clinging to her.

"I'll see if I can find someone to watch her for you, Mr. Hockley." The porter said and excused himself as he went in search of a maid.

Still looking at the sleeping bundle, Cal hesitated to let her go; partially because he didn't want to risk waking her and having to deal with the emotional fallout of a terrorized child. But another part of him, the one that trembled with cold and fear from the horrors he'd witnessed mere hours ago, dreaded the idea of releasing the one source of warmth and life that had clung to him throughout their ordeal. With a thousand concerns waging war in his mind and the ringing threatening to return, Cal cast another glance at the floral wallpaper. A single word surfaced above the noise and called to him through his haze: Rose.

Shifting the girl's weight, Cal carefully pulled back the covers and lowered her to the single bed. Even in sleep she refused to release him, but after gently pulling his evening jacket from her tiny hands, Cal was free. He stood, back sore, arms empty, and pushing away a strange sense of loss he made his way to the door.

With a stride fueled by desperation and purpose, Cal exited the small cabin, brushing past the attendant and barely registering the man's remark that he was unable to find assistance. Before he knew it Cal was in steerage, briskly walking through the miserable masses as his sharp eyes scanned every passing face. Deck by deck he searched, but to no avail. Every glimpse of red hair set his heart racing, only to be disappointed each time he was met by the eyes of another forlorn stranger.

After almost an hour he gave up. With his back against the wall, Cal closed his eyes, shutting out the view of that terrible ocean and wishing he could silence the ever-present sobs of his fellow survivors. She was gone. With how deeply he'd pursued them into the sinking vessel, there was no way they'd gotten out. Still, he had to search. Had to hope that he was wrong if only to preserve the last shred of humanity he had left. But Rose's absence aboard the Carpathia proved his fiancé right. He was an unimaginable bastard and because of his actions, the woman he loved was dead.

A gut-wrenching dread welled in the pit of Cal's stomach. He fought back the urge to throw up and with trembling hands, attempted to light a cigarette. But his fingers shook so fiercely that he almost dropped his lighter. Crushing the cigarette, he threw it aside and quickly stormed back to the cabin he'd managed to precure. His chest was painfully tight and in his sudden panic he found he could hardly breath. Cal didn't know if he was about to burst into tears or drop dead from a heart attack, but he sure as hell wasn't going to do either where anyone could see.

All around him was suffering, he was surrounded by others' pain, hundreds of people burdened with heartache and yet as he pushed his way past them Cal found that he'd never felt more alone. His one hope for salvation lay dead at the bottom of a frozen sea. By his own hand he sealed both their fates, and the permanence of that loss terrified Cal beyond reason.

As he rounded a corner and neared his open cabin, the commotion heard within hastened his approach.

"There, there, little one, I'm sure your father will be back soon. Please don't cry."

Cal found the same porter anxiously hovering near the bed, clearly uncomfortable and unsure of what to do with the balling child now awake and clearly distraught. Cal's tall frame filled the doorway, drawing the attention of the little girl's wide, tear-filled eyes. In the breadth of a moment, one terrified gaze locked with another and before he knew it the tiny creature sprung from the sheets, sprinted across the room and threw her arms around him.

Cal fell to his knees, the gravity of his grief pulling him toward her. Without a second thought he scooped the child into his embrace, holding her and rocking her as if both their lives depended on it. This little girl, who's shrill crying hurt his ears and who's tears and snot soaked through his shirt, was a stranger to him, yet he clung to her as if she were his own. Through his own tears, Cal did his best to comfort her, telling the child things that he also needed to hear.

"I've got you. You're safe now, everything's going to be fine."

Cal had used this girl to secure his own safety. He'd clung to her like a human life-preserver and somehow managed to cheat the death he should have endured. With her life now in his hands, he swore to repay her. Every whispered reassurance was a promise. For as long as she needed him, he would protect her. As long as she wanted him, he would offer her care. Everything and anything would be hers, so long as it meant that he didn't have to be alone.