|The Last Note
Author: SpiderFingers PM
The setting: A frigid ocean. The time: 1912. The people: The wealthy and the ambitious. The Titanic is about to set sail.Rated: Fiction K+ - English - Romance/Tragedy - Chapters: 16 - Words: 28,618 - Reviews: 3 - Favs: 5 - Follows: 4 - Updated: 01-30-13 - Published: 08-17-12 - id: 3051139
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The only thing his senses registered was cold. It entered every pore of his body, and all he could think about was it's frigidness. His numb brain somehow sent signals, though, to his hand, which remained clutching his violin tightly in it, it's strings already bent and stiff from the cold.
But the cold was beginning to fade while blackness began to take its place.
He was brought back to awareness by a hand grabbing hold of his. A soft voice in his ear told him to keep swimming, he was going to make it, and he shouldn't worry. Other sounds reached his ears – shrieks, yells, a strange roaring sound.
For his savior, though the cold penetrated his own bones, he tried to pretend this was just like teaching one of his children to swim. He murmured constant encouragement to the one whom he held, at the same time searching desperately for one of the other four he had become so close to.
His hand found the flailing one of a younger man with panic in his clear blue eyes. The fingers usually so adept on the cello were blue with cold, which worried the one holding them. He continued the encouragement to calm him, telling him that everything would be okay.
Just ahead, there was another familiar face, not looking in their direction. He had his arms around another, who had her arms around him. The three behind the lovers didn't swim near them, seeing the love and pain in both their faces.
One last figure appeared from the darkness. He calmly trod water beside the three of them and behind the other two. He did his best to keep his expression as blank as possible, but his suffering was shown clearly in his eyes.
The one holding the violin was the first to succumb to the cold. The instrument slipped from his fingers and his weight was suddenly heavier upon the one helping him. He glanced at the violinist, whose eyes had closed and called his name, calmly at first, then with more urgency. When he didn't respond or open his eyes, the one holding him allowed the tears to fall and his arm to loosen from around his body.
A cherry wood box bobbed gently along the wake of the five musicians slowly drifting through the water studded with ice. The box contained details of the lives of five people. Five different lives. Five different souls. Five different talents. It seemed nothing would bring them together.
The one thing that had bonded them was music.