Titanic | At Journey's End

True love is hard to find. Sometimes you have to travel far and wide to discover who you are. Sometimes, it brings happiness. The ending of this love story, joyous or tragic, brings hope, mercy and dignity. It all starts on the RMS Titanic.

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6. Chapter V

Chapter V

12th April 1912

So much for fire - its all ben snuffed out, like a ribbon of smoke.

So much for Elias, who promised fireworks but forgot the matches.

The night of the 11th was the best of my life, from 5:00 until 8:39. From when I linked with Elias across the twilight deck, bathed in the soft, familiar light that promises dark - but also promises a beautiful red dawn. I smile, even now, when I think of the cloudy waves and gentle wind, the way I would laugh even if he didn't say something funny at all. Theay he laughed when he saw me laugh, and they we laughed together even though there could be nothing more serious than the two of us.

He's a businessman, wealthy but not overly so, and successful - I think he's a banker, but I couldn't say for sure. He didn't seem to want to focus on himself - it was only questions for me to answer. And I suppose I don't have much to say, in comparison, and I suppose I talked for a little too long about mother and Southampton, which have no consequence whatsoever any more.

We talked for a while, and passed few people - I think many were too occupied dining and dancing. I've never really been a sociable person, so it was better for me in the quiet. Silence never made mother awkward, and it doesn't make me so inclined either. It puts things into perspective.

He pointed out the constellations to me as well, at about 7:00. He took my hand and ran my finger alone the imaginary lines like join the dots. I could see the animals as though they pranced over the horizon, and the sleek pull of the bow and arrow from the archer. I could see them all move like film, as real as Elias or I. He was almost a storyteller, the way he described them, and I was hooked on his every word like I was hypnotised. I don't know how he knew all of the things about the sky, but one day, I'd like to know them too. Tell them to my children on a late night when they should be sleeping: show them out the window what the world really looks like.

Then we stopped by the hull and plunged into silence: suddenly nothing more to talk about. He would look at me, and I'd smile, then he'd smile, then we'd both turn away to the future.

The cold was bitter, at about 8:30, and it pinched my cheeks. The sea's breezes had risen upwards, curling my skirt around my heels. He gave me his jacket: slinging the soft, tweed material across my shoulders like a shield from the wind. It was warm, and huge - the shoulders spread about five inches from where mine ended.

Then he opens his mouth to comment on something - probably the weather, perhaps whether or not I fancy a drink. But I didn't let him begin his sentence. I reached up on my toes and kissed him, the gales pulling strands of hair out of my bun, and pushing between us like we shouldn't be together. But I knew we should.

He was surprised at first, because I didn't talk much and I averted my eyes and I probably looked like an innocent country girl not quite sure of what she was doing. But then he wrapped his strong arms around my waist, and it felt like we'd been together a million years.

But we hadn't: it had only been about five seconds.

And she was standing there, golden blonde hair in soft curls like a halo, her shining eyes bluer with ire. She wore lace at her throat, and her neck glittered with diamonds. The angry sea was in her cold smile, and I felt a chill run down my spine as we caught eyes.

She was his. And I was not.

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