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queerchoicesblog · 5 years ago

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A Secret Unveiled (SC Titanic, Zetta x Adele Series, Ch.9)

It took me ages -sorry folks!- but here’s the continuation of Zetta x Adele Series. I am also happy to announce that for a lucky coincidence the next chapter about the party will be released a week from now on April 14, that is...on Zetta’s birthday!

Little disclaimer-favor: if you do enjoy it, please consider supporting the author & sharing this. A little gesture that means a lot!

Word Count: 3000+

Zetta x Adele Tag: @storyscaped @storyscapefanficarchive @marmolady @animus-and-anima @hayley-carter19 @escako @everlastingchoices @andrxrneda @aestheticsayeed @indescribablechoices @ahrielstuff @bornonawdnsday @nazario-sayeed @h-doodles @adele-serda @marlcasters @brightpinkpeppercorn @nightwhite13 @ramenwithaspoon @michelleconnoly @charliejane-blog @ghost-of-yuri @choicesgremlin @shadeofangelus @mistressofspiesxenia @orange-elephants

Zetta x Adele Series Tag: @eternal-langdon @nydeiri

➡️ Ch. 1, Ch. 2/1, Ch. 2/2, Ch. 3, Ch. 4, Ch. 5, Ch. 6, Ch. 7, Ch. 8/1, Ch. 8/2

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I wake up thinking of Adele. With my eyes closed, I can trick my mind into believing we never parted since last night. She could be sleeping in my arms, her curls gently tickling my skin and her breath soft and calming against the crook of my neck. Her calloused fingers entwined with mine as I hold her close, afraid she might fly away like a dream or a fantasy. I know there is no sense in pretending things are different than they are. I'm perfectly and painfully aware that my love is not here with me but you can't breathe if you're constantly underwater, right? Adele is my safe harbour, a gentle hand preventing me from drowning in my own sorrows and troubles. I can hear Sabine setting up the table in the adjacent room. My little Napoleon...she never forgets to arrange a private breakfast on my birthday morning. My favorite treats, good coffee, my books or some company if I feel like to have a chat. And well, today is the day, my day. Time to say goodbye to Adele's ghost for now: luckily enough I'll be reunited with my love later today.

Despite the weight of my birthday and the decision I made in the middle of a sleepless night, I am in a good mood. I ask Sabine to join me at the breakfast table and we chat and gossip like old friends. It's nice to be reminded I have friends even if we never pronounced that word aloud. When she leaves to add the finishing touches to the venue of tonight's party, I sigh contently, taking one last sip of coffee. My eyes accidentally fall on one the boxes piled up on the couch. I reach for it: it's my pearl necklace with my initials engraved on it. A foolish thought crosses my mind. I decide to indulge in it for once and before I can think twice I take my leave and hand it to the first stewardess I come across, asking to deliver it to Miss Carrem. As I head to the first class deck to catch some fresh air, a smile lingers on my lips. I try to picture Adele's reaction to my necklace. Will she blush, understanding its true meaning? Will she wear my token of affection tonight? The thought distracts me from the more urgent matter I need to discuss with her. A gust of wind greets me as I stand at the railing, the Ship of Dreams gently vibrating underneath my fingertips. Yes, I made up my mind. I know what I have to do, what I want to do. Jamie dear will never take that from me. Yet it makes this no easier. I won't back down though. I sigh and stare out to the vast azure ocean in front of me. It's so calm today: gentle waves stroke the side of the ship as the salty breeze makes a kite waltz into the late morning sky. The little owner is standing a few steps away. Well, standing is a strong word: he's jumping up and down, his chubby cheeks red with excitement, and I'm pretty sure he's not hearing a single word his father -I wager- squatted down by his side is saying to him to help him manoeuvre his colourful device. So sweet and pure. Only kids can experience that absolute unconditioned happiness, I consider, smiling at the kite taking a gracious turn up there, far away from us. A gleeful squeal of the little boy soon follows. I hear steps approaching behind me. I don't even need to turn, I perfectly know who's there. I bumped into Matteo on my way to the first class promenade and sent him to look for Adele. It took him more than I would have expected but for once I don't care. I won't give him a scolding. Not for this, at least: his complicity with James's scheme will get him one when time comes. One he will remember, I'm pretty sure of that. "Leave us, Matteo" I say, still looking out to the sea. He quietly steps away. As soft taps approach I wonder if he bowed before leaving, it would be typical of him. Adele joins me at the railing, standing by my side. I turn my head slightly to look at her. The soft features of her visage never left my mind since our encounter but she's radiant. Her skin is glowing in the late morning sun and I can't help but notice that her delicate curls are now graciously fastened with a cloth. Is my love dressing up for my birthday party tonight? A sudden urge to caress her rosy cheek and untie that lovely cloth to gently run my fingers through her hair takes hold of me but I suppress it. I must. We're in public, people would stare. People would murmur and disapprove. The loving father nearby would probably drag the little kite runner away to prevent him the sight of us. That is why I lower my voice as I say: "Our fun last night must have done you some good. You're glowing" My love turns and a soft smile forms on her lips, mirroring mine, as she beams at the warmth behind my words. She opens her mouth to say something but...nothing comes. Too soon a shadow crosses her face and she diverts her eyes. Was I too straightforward? Or is the thought of the people around us accidentally catching our veiled words of love? "Me? I'm the same as always. Ready to carry out my duties" she says, clearing her throat in a professional tone that doesn't fool me for a second. "Oh Lord. 'Same as always', she says" I roll my eye, barely refraining myself from groaning. "We can play it like that, if you want" "Like what?" Adele turns towards me again, visibly taken aback. "Like last night didn't happen" My voice may still be low but the meaning of my words is unmistakable. Sweet Adele, haven't I told you that I don't beat around the bush? You should know it. And I have no intention to pretend a thing like that! Adele looks at loss of words: I start wondering if I'm seriously too direct for my British love. She searches my eyes staring back at her before lowering them as a flush of red color her cheeks. "I'm very...aware last night happened I just thought you'd want-" she whispers but without ending the sentence. Oh, honey, you thought I wanted you or both of us to bury our sweet time at the Turkish Baths deep inside our mind and forget about that? Never speak about it ever again as if it was a dirty secret between the two of us? It is a secret, but not half as dirty as most people would claim or want us to believe. I don't think you share that sentiment too: you weren't afraid to show your true feelings last night and you're too rebellious and free to let anyone tell you who to love, despite all the insults or threats. Or both. Have you ever gotten in trouble because of that, my love? Adele, were you trying to...protect me and my reputation? I'm hiding my true self but I'm tired of pretending. I don't want to, not with you. When I speak again, my voice is softer. I can only hope it will convey how I wish I could take her into my arms and cradle her, easing her mind. "Darling, I'm forty today, I don't have time to pretend." Then I sigh as I remind myself why I sent Teo to call her. The weight of the unpleasantries to come washes over me and I barely hold back a wince. Why there must be always nasty hurtful things to discuss with her when all I want is her happiness, to see her gorgeous smile light up my whole world? "Which brings me to my point..." I continue, my voice shifting to a more somber tone. "I told you I'd think about your little deal with James." I sigh, holding a bit tighter to the railing as if I were to lose balance. "You brought me proof. You brought me...trust. And now I know what I have to do. What I want to do." I sense Adele tensing up at my side, taking in the gravity of the moment. "I'm here. I'm listening. My life is in your hands" she notes grimly, bracing herself for whatever I have to say. "I certainly hope so, considering I've become a sleep-deprived wreck because of it" I snap, but my angry witticism is not meant for Adele. No, how could it be? I turn to face her: I want to look at her when I uncover my decision. A decision I took not only out of fairness, to correct the wrongs of James but also for you, my love. "So here it is. The 'dirt', I suppose they call it, that James is seeking. I was already married once. Long ago. And, in fact...I'm still married." I pause and let my confession sink. It takes a moment to Adele to realise the full implications of my words. When she does, she frantically searches my eyes and gapes. "Zetta, no! I want your help with James, not to give him what he-" she starts, trying to stop me but I interrupt her. "Shut your mouth and listen, Adele. I heard you out before - now you'll hear me" I should have known better that she would have tried to oppose my decision out of ethics and for the sake of the bond we share now. But no, I'm sorry, my sweet chivalrous love, you can't stop me this time. I made a decision. I can tell Adele is running all the options to protect my secret in her head -running away, covering her ears like a child maybe or even arguing with me- but in the end she grimaces and nod sombrely. I can continue. "I was very young. He was my manager. Plucked me right out of Tristan and Isolde at the Vienna Playhouse. He had this way about him, this confidence. Confidence which I lacked, if you'll believe it" I close my eyes as I turn to look out to the sea again and I can still see him. Myself, leaving the theatre late at night exhausted and frowning. Herr Direktor was kind enough to gave me my start but he certainly wasn't a kind man: never a praise, only harsh 'constructive' criticism. He always wanted more and more, your best was never enough, just 'tolerable' if you were lucky. It was no secret that he made an effort to be twice as hard with me to test my motivation and see if I had "what it takes". "Is that all you've got, fraulein? Oh good Lord", "you said you had talent, please introduce it to all of us because so far I can't see none", "Wolfgang, do you have an understudy for fraulein Zetta's role? I don't want to jeopardise the whole play". I was barely sixteen and his shoutings and scoldings got to me somehow. He didn't seem to notice how the press was pleasantly impressed by my performance of Isolde's maid: Theresa saved for me a copy of a newspaper where a famous critic noted that "we might also be witnessing the rise of a new talent, raw but vivid as it suits the young age of its beholder. A new star is born on the stage of Vienna Playhouse? Only time will tell". I can see now why Herr Direktor was so demanding and harsh with me but back then it only made me feel miserable and angry. I took an hazard pursuing that career when my family was struggling in a poorhouse and I started second guessing myself, doubting myself. He must have sensed it too when he approached me that night. He introduced himself as an admirer simply wishing to praise my performance and soon started flattering me with all the words he knew I wanted or needed to hear. When he had stroked my ego just enough for me to accept an invitation for a private meeting at one of the most exclusive cafè in town, he straightened his dashing tuxedo and leaned to kiss my hand like a romantic hero of a cheap novel. I wasn't smitten with him but it stupidly drew a smile on my face. That's how I met Franz. "Anyway, he's dropping names of directors and theatres over tea at Zum Roten Igel..." He performed with great flair the role of artistic entrepreneur he claimed to be. He knew everyone, treated me with the finest treats I had ever tasted and repeated how impressed, no touched -he said- by the talent he could see burning inside me. He confessed to have great plans in store for me, us: "dear Zetta, allow me the honor to join you in this adventure as your manager. Let us show the world what bright light shines inside you". He squeezed my hand with a practised display of deep affection and enthusiasm when he whispered "let us take on the world, sweetheart!". "...and next thing you know, we're married and on a train to the nearest port" I add, grazing my fingers over my old wedding ring at my ring hand, a testament of my foolish naivety. It wasn't love what I felt for him and what led me to accept his proposal. Maybe I thought it was, for a moment, being so young and clueless about this yet unknown feeling. But it was soon clear it wasn't love: I didn't shiver underneath his kisses nor feel the urge to hold his hand or be held in his strong arms. None of those gestures so very often described in novels and plays came natural. He just fed my hunger for more, my ambition. I soon regretted dearly leaving my family and Vienna with him but it was too late. "I would have twenty offers for twenty shows by the time we hit New York, he told me. Of course, there were no parts. We were turned away at every stage door in Manhattan" It was humiliating. His bundle of lies uncovered and our fights in the streets followed. We accused each other of our failures but I knew I was right. Such awareness did little to soothe my heartbreak: I was young, an ocean away from my family and my only mentor, and tied by law to a miserable liar. I'd never felt so lonely and lost in my whole life. "I let his lies go on a year, then I left him. I couldn't divorce him, even if I wanted to. I didn't know how." I wince as I see my younger self summoning up every ounce of courage and dropping a letter on our kitchen table with too many glasses of whiskey and unpaid bills. Then she would walk out of the door without a second glance, a lump in her throat and a suitcase filled with hope and her few belongings spared from the pawn shop down the street. She had nowhere to go and knew no one who could help her get out of that marriage, a young foreign girl in the big city. Even if she had known, she couldn't have afforded the price. So she focused on starting a new life where she could be victorious. But just like now, when she thought she was done with my past, her past wasn't done with her. "Then there I was, years later, my name on marquees, and he's cornering me outside of the Algonquin Hotel" I remember that day. I'd made it: I'd crawled back from my own ashes and now I was the next big thing. Producers were fighting over me, to get me in their pictures and please crowds of adoring fans. They started calling me "American Aphrodite" after one of my first main role and worshipping me like a goddess. I was walking in on my way back from a stroll down Central Park when I heard a way too familiar voice behind my back. "Can I have a moment, Miss Zetta?". Blood ran cold in my veins as I froze. "Please, fraulein, I'm just an humble admirer" he continued in German, repeating the words of our first encounter. When I turned, he looked so different from the charming prince who spoiled me in Vienna and blinded me with empty promises. His hair showed the first signs of silver and his overall look was messy, a hint of dust over his coat. What never changed was the wolfish twinkle in his eyes when he flashed me a sarcastic smirk, running his fingers over our ring. "You seem surprised to see me. Why don't we take a seat and have a lovely chat, my love?". Honeyed words in a foreign language, the premise of a vile threat. "I didn't need the scandal. I've been paying him to stay quiet ever since" I conclude and silence falls between us. Adele speaks again after a moment. "It couldn't have been all bad, if you agreed to marry him. Was there...love?" she asks, her voice flickering between encouragement and grief or sympathy for my sorrow. "No" I answers sharply, without hesitation. "But he promised me he'd help me act. He swore it!" "He was a liar" When I meet her gaze again, Adele is wincing at the simple hurtful truth. "All men are liars. Just some of them are useful. My husband wasn't. Isn't" Husband...what a curious and cursed word. "Isn't the whole thing absurd? I forget I'm a married woman most of the time" I mock myself but Adele doesn't laugh. No, there's little humor in it, you're right. "But Richard would hardly have me if it got out. I can't imagine what the press would do" I add. Actually I know. They would feast above my ruin like vultures. The thought makes me shrug but Adele's voice bring me back to her. "With all due respect - why are you trusting me?" I chuckle deep in my throat: to be honest, it's quite absurd. I'm handing the key to my downfall to the person hired to destroy me. Ironically, she's also the only person I would ever trust with my secret. My love. I face my secretary and, uncaring of prying eyes, I reach for her hand. "I don't have an answer to this trouble with James" I frown before searching her gorgeous eyes again. "But I'm not going to let him pit us against each other, and besides...when you confessed about jumping bail and the rest, you told me everything I'd need to destroy your life" You foolish, brave love of mine... My gaze softens as well as my voice as a I say, gently squeezing her hand: "If we're going to handle what's coming, I want us to be equals" I take a deep breath and look her right in the eye before adding: "You trust me with your life, I trust you with mine" I feel Adele's hand squeezing mine back and warmth spreads through my veins. "I'm...I'm honoured, Zetta. Truly" "There's not much honor in it, but I appreciate the sympathetic ear all the same" I smile grimly. She mirrors my smile. The salty breeze from the ocean plays with our hair as we keep quiet. "Where do we go from here?" she asks after a moment. I can't tell if she refers to the final decision she needs to make in a few hours or if she's talking about us. I don't realise immediately how wickedly connected the two issues are. I decide to give her an honest answer: she deserves nothing less. "I don't know exactly. I hate to say it, but it's on you as much as me. I can give you support. I can give you lawyers. And I'll give it thought...but when it comes to the party tonight - well, do what your heart tells you" I know I'm probably out of my mind for exposing myself to this hazard, but I want to give you what James stripped away from you, my love: choice, freedom. I want you to be my equal, and God knows more than that. I squeeze her hand one last time and give my love a look filled with all the tenderness and affection I feel for her and can't express here before walking away. It's almost lunchtime, she needs space now and I have a lovely family reunion to attend.

#titanic storyscape #zetta serda #adele carrem #zetta x adele #zetta x adele series

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fate-everlasting · 5 years ago

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Matters of the Heart

This is a three-part alternate-ending fanfiction that revolves around the characters of Adele Carrem, Matteo Vasari, and Charlie Stoke, of Fogbank Entertainment’s Storyscape Titanic novella.

Author’s Note: This story begins in the boiler room, drawing from the diamond scene between Adele and Charlie. Thereafter, the storyline diverges.

Part 2 | Part 3

Part 1: The Ill-Fated Night

My heart is pounding in my ears as sweat drips from my brow, the heat and steam combining with the soot from the boilers to permeate my every pore. My back aches, every muscle in my body protesting as I keep feeding the fires. I glance over at Charlie beside me, meeting his gaze as we weave between one another, his brown eyes twinkling despite the reality of what’s about to happen to us, to the rest of the Black Gang, and to everyone that won’t be fortunate to escape on one of the few lifeboats. My breath is becoming ragged and I know time is running out, the water in the boiler room inching higher with each passing minute. I finally stop, glancing down at my soft leather gloves, once white, now stained with soot nearly to my elbows. Charlie leans on his shovel beside me, his own breathing labored, his face and hair covered with sweat and grime. Despite the noise of men shouting, the clanging and scraping of shovels, and the unnerving sound of rushing water, it feels like we’re the only two in the world.

“Adal,” he begins. “It’s time for you to go.” He smiles softly, though it barely reaches his eyes. His beautiful brown eyes, normally warm and full of life, are now tired and conflicted, no doubt a mirror of my own.

My mind turns to Matteo, waiting for me in the engine room so we can make our harrowing trek through the ventilation shaft. Matteo, I sigh to myself. Despite everything we’ve been through, and everything that happened between he and Charlie, he understood and respected why I needed to stay behind to say goodbye. My heart is still torn between the two, Matteo’s jade and gold brooch shining on my chest a reminder of that fact. But now, I’m even more torn. Part of me wants to go, another part can’t bear to leave Charlie. Not now. Not like this. Against my own better judgment, my heart begins to speak, rather than my brain. “I don’t have to go.”

Charlie shakes his head sadly, “Yes, you do. This isn’t your time. Matteo is waiting for you.” I know he’s right. I avert my eyes briefly, and glance back up as he continues, “Find a way to survive, Adal. Live your life. Do great and amazing things. Make the world a better place.” He picks up his jacket, draping it over my shoulders, his hands brushing over my bare skin as he leans in to give me one final kiss. When his lips touch mine, I return the kiss with as much passion as I can muster. I couldn’t tell if the kiss lasted seconds, or minutes, as everything had started to run together. When we slowly part, Charlie smiles gently, “And, from time to time, spare an occasional thought for a poor English boy who loved ships. Do that, and I’ll be happy.”

My heart and stomach are in knots, unable to put the emotions I feel into words as I lock eyes with him for what is likely the last time. I wrap my arms around him and lean in, pressing my lips to his. I taste the soot and sweat on his lips, and attempt to convey everything I feel, everything I hope, and everything I wish I could say into that one kiss. It’s anxious and hurried and passionate, as if we’re both fitting a lifetime of need into a moment. We slowly break the kiss, my eyes fluttering open when Charlie gently brushes his hand over my cheek. He looks into my eyes for a long moment before wordlessly turning to rejoin the rest of the trimmers and firemen, while I turn toward the engine room where Matteo waits.

My heart and my brain are at war. I know I daren’t look back, my brain screaming at me to go, while my heart aches, tugging me in the opposite direction, back to Charlie. I take a few more steps, and despite my brain’s protests, I slow to a stop, looking behind me into the boiler room where Charlie, John, and the rest of the Black Gang toil in the rising water, the steam, and the soot, to afford the rest of us a better chance for survival. I watch Charlie for a moment, his form barely identifiable through the thick steam, and it’s then that I know. I don’t simply want to survive; I want to live. And, though I haven’t even known Charlie for a week, I can’t imagine a life without him, not now; Not after seeing a glimmer of what life could be with him.

Unable to turn away from the boiler room, I feel tears beginning to sting my eyes, and as if of their own accord, my feet start moving me back into the chaos. None of the men stoking the boilers seem to notice my presence, all focused on the immediacy of the task at hand. I return to Charlie’s side, replacing his jacket over the railing, and pick up my shovel. As he turns to heft another shovelful of coal, his eyes widen in disbelief, “Adal! You can’t be here! You need to go!”

I shake my head, defiant, tears welling up and threatening to roll down my cheeks. I yell loudly, ensuring he can hear me over the din, the same tone I used in first class to rally the passengers on the Grand Staircase, “I can’t go Charlie! I won’t go…And I’ve made up my mind.”

“But you have to go! You aren’t meant to be here, and you aren’t meant to stay down here. This isn’t how it ends for you, not here, not like this!” Charlie gestures with his arms as he speaks, incredulous, upset, though the emotion I see in his eyes betrays his feelings.

“Now Mister Stoke, you know that I’m a woman of conviction, and I’ll fight for what I believe in,” I pause, offering him the best smile I can. “I believe in you. I’ll fight for you, and I won’t leave you.”

Charlie’s expression softens then, realizing that I’ve made my choice, and nothing he says will make me change my mind. He shakes his head slowly, “There really is no arguing with you, is there, Miss Carrem?”

I shake my head solemnly, blinking away my tears, and in effort to suppress how I feel, I dig my shovel into the coal. “Now, let’s get back to work, these boilers aren’t going to stoke themselves, are they?” I offer him a smile, and am relieved to see a smile, albeit a sad one, spread across Charlie’s face.

He shakes his head, digging his own shovel in next to mine, “No, I suppose they aren’t.” He pauses once more, locking his eyes with mine, “You’re an incredible woman, Adal.”

I smile at his words, and quickly, we begin weaving between one another again, developing a rhythm as we work together with the rest of the men to keep the boilers going, the pumps working, the lights lit, and the wireless functioning for as long as possible. My brain continues to scream at me, worried about my survival, my heart torn, even still, between Charlie and Matteo. Despite it all, deep down, I feel that in this moment I’m exactly where I need to be. Exactly where I’m meant to be.

In the minutes that pass, we don’t even notice the frigid water nearing our knees. I briefly slow, standing up and stretching my back as I wipe the sweat from my brow with my gloved forearm. I feel a presence behind me, and when I turn, my heart leaps into my throat when see Matteo. His jacket and waistcoat have already joined Charlie’s over the railing, his tie is loosened, and a sheen of sweat is already visible on his brown skin. It takes me a moment to find my voice. “Matteo?!” I shout over the clamor, over the sound of rushing water that only seems to have gotten louder.

“Well, I couldn’t let you and Charlie have all the fun, now could I?” Matteo smirks, his eyebrow raised.

“Matteo, what are you doing here?” Charlie’s chest is rising and falling with each deep breath, the look on his face a mix of disbelief, curiosity, and suspicion. He shakes his head, gesturing toward the engine room, exasperated. “I showed you the way out, don’t you understand? It’s your only chance, and there’s no more time. Boiler room 5 has flooded, and there’s no other way back to the upper decks, much less the lifeboats!”

Matteo shrugs dismissively, “I’ve never been much for heights. Now, high society, perhaps…” He pauses briefly, glancing around the boiler room before returning his attention to Charlie, “But climbing out of a funnel sounds…unpleasant. It’s also a bit warmer in here than out there, isn’t it?” I catch myself smiling slightly at his dry, sarcastic wit, though it does little to mask the underlying nervousness clouding his features.

Neither man speaks for a long moment, and I feel the tension between them start to build. Just as I’m about to say something, Charlie finally sighs, shaking his head. “You’re both…” He pauses, and half-smiles as he wipes the sweat from his forehead, “Thank you.”

Matteo nods respectfully as Charlie quickly returns to work, and when we both lean down with our shovels, he speaks softly, “I had to come back for you. I waited…”

I look into his hazel eyes when he trails off, seeing a vulnerability there that prior, I’d only seen in fleeting glimpses. “Matteo, you should’ve gone ahead…”

He shakes his head as a lopsided grin tugs at one corner of his mouth, “Gone ahead and what? Shivered in the cold, sharing an intimate lifeboat with James, with only one another to keep warm? Pardon my saying, but that sounds utterly dreadful.” He smiles sincerely then, “I’d rather stay with you, Adele. No matter the circumstance.”

I feel the color rise into my cheeks and I’m unable to hide my smile, though the sound of rushing water seems to grow louder, reminding us both the reality of what we’re about to face. I quickly press a kiss to Matteo’s cheek, lingering there for several seconds before I return to shoveling. The three of us quickly find our pace, working in unison to give everyone else still on the ship their best chance for survival.

Minutes pass, but they feel like hours. My body aches, my breath coming in ragged gasps as I struggle to keep pace with Charlie and Matteo. The noise in the boiler room has reached a crescendo, a cacophony of laboring, shouting men, clanging and scraping shovels, roaring furnaces, and rushing water now pouring in through the orlop deck above. I glance at Charlie and Matteo at my side, both men soaked with sweat, covered in grime and soot. Matteo’s normally perfectly coiffed hair is now hanging wetly over his forehead into his eyes, his tie long gone, and his shirt filthy and soaked through; A disheveled state I’d never seen him in before. Charlie keeps up his stiff pace, stoking the boiler as only a professional could, stone-faced, with unwavering commitment to his friends, his passengers, and their safety above all else, even above himself. I steel myself, pushing harder to keep shoveling, willing my mind to go anywhere but here, anywhere but the chaotic boiler room on a doomed ship.

Hileni.

No matter where I will my thoughts, they return to her. My baby sister. She’s grown up so much on this voyage, but still I wonder if it’s the events of the past few days that have changed her, or if it’s a change that’s been happening over time that has simply gone unnoticed. Unnoticed, perhaps due to our daily familiarity, or due to our long hours at the factory and my activism that kept me in prison, seemingly more often than not over the past several months. I feel a prickle of shame that I hadn’t been there for her, that I’d somehow let her down after mother and father died. She always understood, or seemed to. She understood that I was fighting not only for myself, but for her, and all other women to have the same rights as men, fighting for a better life for everyone.

I think of her face, the feel of her small form in my arms when I hugged her the last time before leaving her behind with the Rouhanas. She believed so strongly that God would have a plan for them, and for Matteo, Charlie, myself, and everyone else on this ship. And, any questions about these plans were best answered in quiet prayer. It all seemed so silly at the time, but who am I to question what she believes? I can’t help but wonder how things would be different had she come with us. Would I have chosen to stay with Charlie if it was Hileni and Matteo waiting, rather than just Matteo? Would Hileni have wanted to stay? Would we have even been able to make it up the ventilation shaft, and if so, are Zetta and Sabine still on board, saving us spots on a boat? Would it all be for naught, our best efforts wasted, despite doing everything we were supposed to do? Should I have forced Hileni to come with us? Did I make a mistake leaving her behind, dooming her to a terrible fate? I promised I would keep her safe; had I failed her?

My mind is swirling with questions, and I don’t even realize I’ve stopped shoveling until I feel Matteo’s gentle hand at my lower back, seemingly jolting me back to reality. My eyes focus, Matteo and Charlie both at my side, their faces awash with concern, and only then do I realize I’ve been weeping. “Oh, Adele,” Matteo says softly, moving his hand in slow circles over my back in effort to comfort me.

I attempt to calm my nerves and clear my throat, ready to start shoveling again, when Charlie gently places his hands over mine on the shovel. “Adal,” he pauses, looking at me with a sadness in his eyes, “It’s done.”

“Done?” I look between he and Matteo, incredulous, not understanding what he means, nor how we could possibly be ‘done’. “We need to keep going, we need to make sure Hileni and Zetta can make it off the ship, it’s not done yet! There’s still time!” As I move to shovel more coal, I realize then that the water has risen above our knees, now dangerously close to flowing into the boilers themselves, the deck beneath our feet noticeably slanted as Titanic lists to port. I stop, the shovel slipping from my hands and landing in the water with a splash, Charlie’s hands gently leaving mine. I watch the shovel sink, taking notice of my gloves and my blue bejeweled Maison Lucile gown, soaked with a mixture of sweat and water, stained with soot, realizing then that none of it mattered. Not the finery, not the pomp, it didn’t matter what ticket we held, what we wore, or what dining room we were served in. Fate doesn’t discriminate. Scanning the boiler room, I see the other trimmers and firemen slowing their efforts as they come to the same realization Charlie had only moments before. My gaze returns to the water where my shovel now rests, my mind struggling with the absolution of what was about to come.

“Stoke!” A shout rings out behind us, and we turn to see Charlie’s friend John wading through the water. “The water’s rising too fast!” His expression changes then, almost to a look of horror, when he sees myself and Matteo. “No, no, no! You aren’t supposed to be down here!”

Charlie chuckles sadly, shaking his head, “That’s what I tried to tell them, and you see how well that worked.” He pauses, nodding to Matteo before looking back to his friend, “They helped us, John. Some of the other firemen evacuated to the boats, but they stayed. They made a difference.”

John nods appreciatively, but then looks back over his shoulder, our gaze following his to one of the watertight doors, where water is starting to leak in around all sides, the sound of metal grating and groaning beginning to sound more like the death throes of an otherworldly beast than anything a ship could produce. He turns back to us and nods again, “I won’t say it was a wise decision, but thank you, both.”

Matteo and I can only nod, when Charlie begins to speak. “Well, this is it, John,” he pauses then, glancing around the boiler room. “It’s been an honor. Fair winds and following seas, my friend.” John bows his head momentarily, before wading off toward another stoker who’d called for help across the boiler room, leaving the three of us where we stood, the water now rising faster than before, and the slant of the deck becoming harder to withstand.

We stand in silence taking in the scene around us, overwhelmed by the enormity of what’s happening. I adjust my footing, and suddenly slip on the slanted deck, falling to my knees in the water. The frigid water shocks my body, as I only now feel how cold the water truly is, having stopped shoveling coal and feeding the boiler. “Adal!” I hear Charlie’s shout over the noise, he and Matteo both reaching down to grab my hands and help me up.

I sputter to my feet, shivering, as Charlie hurriedly grabs Matteo’s jacket from the railing, wrapping it around my shoulders. I curl into the jacket with a quiet “thank you”, but nearly lose my footing again, feeling as though the ship is moving beneath us. I know Matteo and Charlie can feel it too, their eyes widening as we all reach out and grab onto the railing to steady ourselves.

Matteo still has a firm hold of my hand, his other gripping the railing tightly, leaning into it to keep from slipping himself. He chuckles dryly, his tone conveying considerable animus, “So much for 'unsinkable’.” He shakes his head then, looking back over his shoulder at the enormous steel door, leaking around all sides, “And, 'watertight’”.

Charlie frowns, his eyes flashing, “You have no idea, do you?” he shakes his head curtly. “This ship is engineered beyond any that has ever existed, any other ship in this position would have already gone under. Even the greatest engineers are unable to plan for every possible eventuality.” His tone is sharp and defensive, “And that includes gigantic icebergs that come out of nowhere in the middle of the North Atlantic.” He holds into the railing with one hand, his other arm wrapped around my shoulders, where I shiver still.

I grimace at Charlie’s tone, and looking between the two men, I note the change in Matteo’s expression, knowing full well he’s preparing a repartee. I feel anger welling up from the pit of my stomach, and with my teeth chattering, I snap, “Is this necessary?! Bickering now won’t change anything. The time to change anything was before we left port. All we can do now is pray that Hileni, Lena, Zetta, and Sabine made it safely to the lifeboats. Pray that all our work, everything we’ve done, somehow made a difference… No matter how small. So please, both of you, just stop.” I sigh heavily and adjust my grip on the railing, leaning into Matteo’s comfortable form as Charlie’s arm reflexively tightens further around my shoulders, my eyes still flashing between both of them.

Matteo and Charlie sheepishly exchange sidelong glances, a current of understanding passing between the two men. After a long moment, Matteo finally breaks the silence, “…And James. Hileni, Lena, Zetta, Sabine, and James.”

I gaze downward at the mention of James, but nod. “Yes, and James. This is going to change everyone, whether we live or die. Nobody on this ship will be the same after tonight, including him.”

Charlie nods in agreement after a moment, though his tone reflects his lingering animosity, “Hopefully for his sake, and that of his aunt, it’s a change for the better.”

Just then, the deafening sound of grinding metal, splintering wood, and what sounds like explosions begin to ring out all around us, seemingly from all directions. My heart leaps into my throat as we huddle together, bracing ourselves for what’s to come. My body overcome by fear, I scream. “What’s happening?!”

“I don’t know, but hold on!” Charlie yells, though he can barely be heard over the ear-splitting noise.

Matteo’s eyes dart around the room, trying to discern where the loudest of the sounds are coming from. He ducks in closer to Charlie and me, shouting to be heard, “No matter what happens, we hold on, we stay together!”

The noise becomes deafening, and suddenly, water rushes in from all sides, snuffing out the fires in the boilers, the room plunging into chaotic darkness save for periodic flashes from exposed electrical wires. The water comes up so rapidly that within seconds, we’re clinging to one another along the gangway above the boilers, the icy water stinging my body with the pain of a thousand knives. I feel Matteo tighten his hand around mine, Charlie now holding tightly to my opposite arm as I grip the railing along the gangway, the three of us trying to keep our heads above water as the tumultuous ocean seems to be rising up to swallow us - and the Titanic - whole. Terror grips my heart, and briefly, I wonder if I’d made the wrong choice to stay behind. As quickly as the thought entered my mind, it was gone, and in the split-second brightness of an electrical flash, I see Charlie’s and Matteo’s expressions, conflicted and terror-filled, no doubt a mirror of my own. The water is rising faster, and I kick my legs, straining to keep my head above water, gasping with a scream, “Charlie! Teo!”

“Hold on Adal, we have you!” Charlie shouts, attempting to reassure me as he grips my arm tighter.

“We won’t let you go!” Matteo yells as he adjusts his hold on the gangway with one arm, attempting to lift himself higher out of the water, his other hand still squeezing mine tightly in attempt to pull me up with him. The water continuing to rise, Matteo coughs as the water splashes into his face. Between gasping breaths, he shouts, “If this is how it ends, I’m glad I’m with you, Adele… And you too, Charlie. You’re a good man.”

Just as Charlie is about to respond, I feel my grip on the gangway starting to slip as a vacuum pulls me downward into the swirling water. I hurriedly look around, and to my horror, I see some of the other men disappearing under the tumultuous surface; anyone who didn’t have a tight hold on a railing, pipe, or part of the gangway was being pulled down. I attempt to adjust my grip on the gangway but instead, lose it entirely, my arm twisting from Charlie’s grasp. I scream and grab for him, thankfully catching his hand, Matteo still holding tightly to my other, both men struggling against their own exhaustion and the frigid, rising water to pull me up against the current. I try screaming for help, but am cut short when water floods my mouth, momentarily taking my breath away.

I cough, sputtering, and attempt to take a deep breath, catching a glimpse of the chaotic scene in the boiler room. Men yelling as the water continues to rise, its surface undulating and angry, a far cry from the tranquil, mirrored surface I admired only hours before. The air is thick with steam and smoke from the snuffed furnaces, the darkness only briefly interrupted by electrical flashes, the entire scene worse than any nightmare I could ever imagine. Still struggling, I squeeze Matteo and Charlie’s hands tightly, kicking my legs, attempting to pull myself higher out of the water. Despite my efforts, I’m unable to keep my head above the surface, and straining, I look up, seeing Charlie and Matteo shouting as they look in after me, though I’m unable to hear them. My grasp on Matteo’s hand starts to falter, and as my hand falls from his, his eyes widen with terror and he frantically reaches down after me, another electrical flash briefly glinting off of his grandfather’s wristwatch, now submerged beneath the ocean’s surface. I struggle to pull myself up using Charlie’s arm, and stretch for Matteo, though his outstretched hand remains just beyond my reach. The current, then proving too strong for Charlie alone, pulls my hand from his. Another wave of terror washes over me when I lose touch with Charlie, and as I feel myself being dragged down, I scream. The merciless ocean mutes my screams, nobody can hear me, the only evidence the flurry of bubbles rising through the water toward the surface. I see Charlie and Matteo let go of the gangway and dive in after me, and kicking my legs, my arms outstretched, I desperately reach for them. For a moment, their faces are briefly illuminated by another electrical flash, and I see on them expressions of horror I’ve never seen before, and I know I’ll never see again. No matter what I do, and no matter how they try, the ocean ensures they remain just out of reach.

Suddenly, my mind is racing. First, I’m a young girl, journeying with my parents from our small village in Mount Lebanon to London, in search of a better life. Then, I’m older, Hileni a very small child, and we’re gathered around the small wood stove in our apartment, listening to our parents tell stories of their lives when they were our ages. I then see our mother’s funeral, followed by our father’s, and the many long nights that Hileni and I worked side by side at our factory jobs. My mind jumps to my jujitsu class, and the countless protests I attended, in effort to give a voice to those who didn’t have one of their own. A flash to my stints in prison, where I always managed to survive, and then back at home, where Hileni was always waiting and supportive, despite her being left alone more than she should have been. Finally, I see James Eisler, in the cell next to mine, and Matteo, in the prison courtyard, offering me a literal ticket to my freedom. Then, in a flash, Hileni and I are on the dock in Southampton, along with a thousand other souls, boarding the grandest, safest ocean liner the world has ever known. Everything passes more quickly now. My mind replays the day I first met Charlie when I was trying to find Hileni in steerage, followed by my picnic with Charlie, Hileni, and the Rouhanas on Bruce Ismay’s private promenade. Then, flashes of my growing friendships with Zetta, Sabine, and Lena, the quiet kisses and unspoken understanding shared with Charlie, our dance in steerage, and cognac in the cargo hold. I then see my midnight swim and the raw, passionate encounters with Matteo, followed by Zetta’s grand “twentieth” birthday party; all the while I foolishly thought that James’ threats coming to fruition were the worst that could happen to me. Finally, I see Hileni’s face as I left her behind with the Rouhanas, looking much older and wiser than her 15 years, steadfast in her beliefs. Suddenly, I’m brought back to the present. I feel myself sinking further into the water, my head throbbing, my chest painfully tight. I again try to swim toward the surface, but my efforts prove futile, my limbs weighted down by their own mass. I strain my eyes, trying in vain to find Charlie and Matteo above me, but all I can see is darkness. After a moment, I realize the cold no longer feels so cold. And, utterly exhausted, my resolve fading, my eyes fall closed as I surrender to my fate, a flash of Matteo’s face, and then Charlie’s, the last things in my mind before everything else fades away.

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