[Fanfic] Titanic - Epilogue

[pink-vader0001.livejournal.com]

Title: Titanic
Author/Artist: pink_vader0001 
Character(s) or Pairing(s): Mostly England, smatterings of America here and there.
Rating: Hard T still
Warnings: Horribly sad, a bit of choice language -- oh, and it's about 12k words.
Summary: “She’s the ship o’ dreams, Arty. Safest ship o’ her time. C’mon, ye really don’ think I’d put me wee baby brother on a ship that could kill ‘im, do ye?”

Highly recommended is

butterflieyes' companion piece to this: The Pain of Waiting (which I'll link to when it's not f-locked anymore).

 

September 2, 1999

“That first day on the Carpathia, I didn’t let Arthur out of my sight.  Then it became obvious that the boy’s family was gone.  He couldn’t remember his last name, so I gave him one.  Arthur Canavan was an orphan of the Titanic, with no family.  One of the women survivors had lost her two teenage sons, and she saw Arthur on the deck of the Carpathia and offered to adopt him.  After that, I had my own concerns.  Like getting a message to you.” Alfred frowned.

“I was afraid that wasn’t actually from you,” he murmured embarrassedly.  Arthur scoffed.

“Who the hell else would it have been from?” he asked.

“You could have been so confident you’d be fine that you gave the message to someone else!” Alfred said defensively.

“The chances they would have passed it on were slim,” Arthur pointed out dryly.

“Anyway,” Alfred said, turning his attention from the part of the story that he knew. “What happened to the ladies?  Did you ever see them again?” Arthur went silent.

“Georgette,” he said. “The one who was so taken with me, who wanted me to get in the boat with her.  I saw her in 1974.  She was seventy-eight years old.  The clusterfuck of disasters in the first half of the twentieth century had given me a year, but I didn’t look a spot different to her.” Tears welled in the British Nation’s eyes at the memory. “She told me that it was rude of me to come calling on Valentine’s Day without flowers.  She said I was her first love, and she hit me for not coming to see her when she was still young and pretty.” He drew a shuddering breath. “I sent the flowers to her funeral,” he said, and nothing more.

Alfred didn’t say anything for a long moment.  Knowing Arthur, he was understating the flowers that he had sent her.  It was an amusing thought in the face of tragedy to imagine her family’s faces when the immense, overflowing bouquet sent (as sure as Alfred knew Arthur) anonymously was placed next to the casket.

“What about Arthur?” he asked suddenly.

“I set up a trust for him,” Arthur replied. “Fifty-thousand pounds to be released to him on his twenty-first birthday.  Heaven knows what he did with the money.  I saw his name on a Navy roster – Arthur Canavan, the same name that I gave him on the Carpathia.  I don’t know what happened to him after that.”

“...Wow,” Alfred said, after a moment. “I...Arthur.  God.  I’m sorry.” Arthur rubbed at his forehead.

“Don’t be,” he murmured. “Christ.  Eighty-seven years,” he remarked in disbelief. “It seems like yesterday.” But something had changed about him.  He wasn’t the same Nation who had balked at the sight of Titanic on the television.  Like telling the story offered him an outlet, a catharsis that he’d never found before.  Alfred smiled, watching him, then yawned.

“Any other scars you want to pick at until they bleed?” Arthur asked pointedly.  Alfred, mouth agape mid-yawn, shook his head in the negative.  Arthur seemed uncertain for a moment, looking from the blank TV and then to Alfred, who blinked back at him. “Let’s do what I came here for, then,” Arthur murmured, though he didn’t sound excited about it.  Alfred chuckled and moved to pick up the remote, hitting rewind so they could start from the beginning.

“I told you it’d make you feel better,” he remarked smugly, as Arthur closed the gap between them and he put his arm around the British Nation’s shoulders.  Arthur thumped his fist against Alfred’s chest.

“Fuck off,” he replied.  Alfred said nothing then, just rested his head on top of Arthur’s, swearing he’d only close his eyes for a moment.  Arthur rolled his eyes and took the remote, pressing play when it was done rewinding.

Both of them were fast asleep before the salvagers on the telly even discovered the safe.