Chapter Eight

A dry sob welled in Kurt's throat, and he was dimly aware of the light from the boat continuing to drift past, completely oblivious to him. This couldn't be happening. They couldn't have survived this long, only to be torn from him at the last moment. He kept repeating the painful, tear-filled mantra, desperate for a change he couldn't see, "Wake up…"

Anger welled deep within Kurt, at everything. At Titanic, for sinking; at Finn, for making him get on the door; at Blaine, for saying goodbye… for leaving him alone.

Promise me…

Finn's words still rang clear and true in his head, but Kurt just couldn't. He pulled Blaine's limp body to him tightly, never letting go of Finn's hand as he let his head drop back to rest on the door. Warm tears burnt his freezing skin, leaking from behind closed lids as choked sobs violently spasmed in his throat.

Unbidden, images painted themselves in broad, vibrant brushstrokes across his mind.

Finn, standing with Rachel on the bank of the Seine as Kurt drew them, capturing their happy love, bathed in moonlight. And then his brother's face when they realised they had won the tickets…

Blaine, the first time Kurt ever saw him, so sad, beautiful and removed, contrasted so strikingly against the radiant memory of Blaine's naked body pressed against Kurt's own, coupled with a heat that was nearly incomprehensible now in the frozen ocean, and a love that was seared into his soul.

And then there was his father… The strongest man Kurt had ever, and would ever know. The picture of the last time they saw each other was something Kurt would never forget.

He wouldn't even know why Kurt never came home, why Finn and Kurt never contacted their parents again. They weren't on the ship's manifests, they didn't have time to send a message before they sailed.

They truly would be lost souls of the sea.

Promise me…

No. Kurt would not give up. Kurt Hummel would not die on this freezing ocean, not tonight, not ever. He would live.

Kurt forced his eyes open with a great surge of will, only to see the boat much further away, "Come back… Come back!"

His voice was gone, entirely, barely scratching above a whisper. He looked about himself frantically, before remembering the officer with the whistle. Which meant he would have to get off the door… He would have to get off the door, and leave Finn and Blaine…

Survive…

With an icy crunch, Kurt wrenched his hand from his dead brother's last grip, pressing his frozen lips to Finn's cold forehead, "Thank you…" Two simple words that could not even go an inch to describe what Kurt felt, that could never convey everything the brothers had experienced together, everything that Finn had been. As Kurt pulled back, so Finn's lifeless body began to drift from the door, gently guided by the soft ripples of the water, kept afloat by Puck's lifejacket.

Kurt shifted his grip on Blaine, rolling him ever so tenderly onto his back, carefully extricating Blaine's pliable hold from around Kurt's body. Despite knowing that the boat was getting ever further away, Kurt couldn't bring himself to just leave, not yet, not without something…

Except he had no idea what to say…

So Kurt just bent and kissed Blaine's cheek, lingering in the last kiss he would ever have, "I'm never saying goodbye to you…"

A flicker. So miniscule it shouldn't even have been there. So fleeting it could easily have been all in Kurt's head.

But it was enough to get Kurt's brain working. It was enough for him to weigh the difference between how Finn and Blaine's bodies had felt in his grip, it was enough for him-

"Blaine? Blaine, please, please, Blaine?" His voice was so hoarse now he wasn't even sure he was speaking out loud.

There. A shine of amber behind ice-encrusted eye lashes, the smallest twitch as Blaine's head moved ever so slightly of its own accord.

"Stay with me, don't leave, stay with me!" Kurt shook Blaine's shoulders violently,noticing more now how the body next to him lacked the solid dead weight of a corpse. But he knew it wouldn't be long.

Before he could even think about it too closely, Kurt rolled off the door and into the water. He nearly went under straight away, no lifejacket to keep him afloat, but he forced his body through it. Twisting to check he hadn't dislodged Blaine, Kurt began to struggle to his goal. The sailor's body was so close, but Kurt was frozen to the core. The brief glimpse brilliant amber burnt brightly in his mind's eye, pushing him onwards, until finally he latched onto the floating body of the officer, wrenching the whistle from his dead lips, and blew.

Muddled voices cut through the night air, and Kurt was dimly aware of the light turning, of it coming back. He wasn't sure what they were saying, his mind occupied on only three things – Blaine, whistling, and not drowning.

As the boat drew closer, Kurt dropped the whistle, his single-minded determination setting him to begin swimming back to Blaine.

"Jesus! What's he doing? Stop! Here, we've come to help you! Just stay still, we'll pull you in!"

"He don't even have a jacket on 'im! How's 'e even still alive?"

"Pull him in now, quick!"

Kurt hadn't even been fully aware that the boat had drawn so close to him, so intent he was on getting back to Blaine. But then strong, warm arms were wrapped around him, and he was hauled from the water, limbs kicking.

"Calm down! It's okay, calm down, we've got you!"

Kurt shook his head violently as they manhandled him, wrapping him vigorously in a blanket, rubbing his arms. The sudden change in position out of the water had completely derailed his thoughts, tendrils of ice wrapped tightly about his brain.

Until they started rowing again. Until they started rowing the wrong way.

"No!" The cry tore from Kurt's throat, and somehow he fought frantically against the constricting blankets and arms.

"Bloody hell, he's gone feral! Sir, what do I do?"

Another set of hands were on him, and Kurt was fighting dirty now, trying to bite, scratch, claw his way free. BlaineBlaineBlaineBlaine-

"Calm down kid!" Hands were on his face, forcing him to look up into the other man's eyes, "Calm down, it's okay…"

Kurt's brain finally connected to his voice again, "D-d-do-or…"

The man holding him frowned honestly, his Welsh tones lilting in confusion, "Door? What are you-"

"D-door!" Kurt bit out more forcefully, "Aliv-ve… You have t-to g-go b-ac-ck!" His hand shot out,frozen fingers somehow wrapping a weak grip into the officer's lapels.

The man frowned, and in that horrible moment, Kurt saw them rowing away, he saw them leaving, but then the officer stood, looking across the water about them, before pointing, "There! What's that?"

"Sir? He's just confused! There isn't anything out there…"

"No, there, out on the water, there's a body on that wreckage, where this one was headed!"

One of the rowers shook his head grimly, "No movement, sir…"

The officer rounded on the men, "And will you be able to live with yourself if you're wrong? Row men, now!"

Fully expecting to find yet another gut-wrenching corpse, the men rowed nonetheless, bringing the lifeboat gently up alongside what they could now see to once have been an ornate door from the ship. "Check him!"

The closest sailor bent over, his warm hand reaching to Blaine's neck to check for a pulse where Kurt's numb fingers had been incapable. He frowned, moving his hand to cover Blaine's nose and mouth, while Kurt watched, detached, unable to let himself think the worst, not when hope had so cruelly been returned to him, "Shit! He's breathing!"

All the men leapt into action, making slight work of pulling Blaine's limp body on board. Instantly, the lifejacket was removed, and a mountain of blankets was wrapped around him, cocooning Blaine as they tried to rub some life into him. "Come on, wake up for me… open those eyes…" The officer was tapping Blaine's cheek hard, and if Kurt had any voice left, he would have cried with joy when Blaine finally opened his eyes again, staring at the stranger in hopeless confusion. "That's good! It's okay, you're safe now."

On seeing Blaine open his eyes, Kurt immediately began crawling towards him, dislodging a large proportion of his blankets in the process, and probably annoying the rower who had been holding him. The renewed struggle – rather one sided, even if Kurt wouldn't be one to admit it – created noise that drew Blaine's gaze, "K'rt?"

The officer in charge of the boat shook his head in relieved exasperation, "Just get the pair of them settled. He's looked out pretty well for this one so far… Keep a close eye, mind – don't let either fall asleep – and let's see if we can't find any more!"

With renewed vigour, the sailors leapt to follow orders, but Kurt and Blaine only had eyes for each other. Still breathing. Still alive.

Kurt rearranged himself next to Blaine, half pulling the other boy into his own blanket cocoon, wrapping his arms tightly about him, damn any comments to hell. He wouldn't let Blaine go again.

The little boat continued to drift silently through the ocean graveyard. Only five more survivors were pulled aboard after Kurt and Blaine, and no other lifeboats came near.

It wasn't until the Carpathia loomed on the dawn-streaked horizon that Kurt actually let himself believe that they had made it.

He held Blaine tighter, and this time, Blaine squeezed back.

Sitting on the steerage deck of their rescue ship, Kurt and Blaine existed in a strange semi-reality, the surreal banality of the people around them painting the morning with the colours of a dream. First class passengers of the Carpathia looked down on them from above, as if they were all some kind of oddity, a form of entertainment to fill their days.

Look at those quaint poor wretches, it's a wonder they survived at all…

Wailing wives and the laughter of playing children juxtaposed sharply in their ears, the young already healing in a way that their elders never would.

Kurt felt a tiny tremor pass through Blaine's arm beneath his hand, as they sat out of the way, still wrapped up and clutching the hot drinks that the servants of Carpathia had forced to them. He fixed him with concern, and Blaine somehow pulled a weak ghost of a smile onto his face, "I'm okay…"

His voice was as wrecked as Kurt's, nearly lost in the sea breeze. Kurt sighed, leaning into Blaine, resting his head on his shoulder. He had been so scared when they had finally pulled Blaine from the water, so scared that he still might not make it, that he still might leave Kurt alone. He felt Blaine's cheek fall to rest on the top of his head, the blankets affording them an element of obscurity.

Kurt let the reality of Blaine's presence wash over him, blotting out the world for a little while longer. Every time he shut his eyes, he saw water, terror and Finn. It was perhaps for this reason that he didn't register Blaine's head lift slightly as he heard a brief commotion behind him; as he heard his own name, in a voice that was painfully familiar.

"Blaine?" Blaine twisted slightly, to see a very alive Sebastian hastily releasing a short, dark haired man, "Oh. Sorry…"

Of course. Of course Sebastian had survived. Blaine didn't know why he was surprised. Involuntarily, his mind flashed violently, conjuring up a swathe of faces, from Finn, to Puck, to Mr Andrews, and then to those he would never know the name of, like the man and his son, swept away in the corridor, and the young woman who lost her grip on the rails as she plunged down the vertical deck…

Why had their lives been the ones to be lost?

It would be so simple to turn around. Blaine was of no delusions as to who Sebastian was looking for. It would be so easy to stand, to come back to life for his mother, to his future wife, to his future brother in law…

But he didn't move an inch, only turning to rest his head back on Kurt's, willing Sebastian to walk away. They would never know that he lived, because he couldn't go back, he couldn't live the life they had planned for him, even less now, after all he had seen.

As far as he was concerned, Blaine Anderson had died on the Titanic, long before she had even hit the iceberg.

Kurt had barely spoken five words since their rescue, unable to form words as they sailed further and further away from the final resting place of the Titanic, of Finn. He had hardly relinquished his grip on Blaine the entire time, needing to reassure himself that he wasn't imagining his presence.

Rain had begun to fall hard the closer they got to land, and part of Kurt wondered if he would ever be warm again. He knew they should probably have gone inside, but as the Statue of Liberty floated into view, Kurt just hadn't been able to tear himself away, the lack of Finn's enthusiastic love of the landmark hitting him raw. Blaine stayed by his side, dark curls plastered to his forehead as he blinked away the drops of rain from his eyes.

"Excuse me, mate? Can I take your names?" A young sailor had approached Blaine, clipboard in hand, his umbrella clutched tightly.

Blaine stared at the man blankly, suddenly having no idea what to say. The passenger manifest of survivors would be available for all to see, and then Blaine would be found. They both would, and all they had been through together would be for nothing, because Blaine knew that Sebastian wouldn't just give up if he knew they had survived…

Kurt blinked rapidly, as if coming out of a dream, tearing his gaze from the Statue and the sea. He turned, slowly but pointedly lifting his arm from where it had rested continuously against Blaine's side to curl tightly around him shoulders. Blaine's head whipped round with enough force to make him dizzy, staring at Kurt as if he had finally lost his mind. The sailor frowned at them uncertainly.

But then Kurt just smiled softly, taking the one last gift Finn could give him, "Hudson. Kurt and Blaine Hudson."

Comprehension dawned on the sailor's face as he automatically took them to be brothers, the anonymity of Finn's name protecting them from anyone who might come looking, from anyone who might do them harm. He nodded, "Thank you."

Blaine continued to stare at Kurt in shock, and for a moment, Kurt had a rush of doubt, "I'm sorry… I just assumed that you… and with Sebastian and – I shouldn't have-"

"I love you." Blaine's voice was sure and plain, even if it was barely a whisper only Kurt could hear.

Kurt halted midsentence, and desperately wanted to kiss Blaine in that moment. "I love you too," he breathed.

"What happens now?" Blaine asked, still uncertain of his place in Kurt's future.

"I need to go home." Kurt sighed softly, his longing amplified by his exhaustion, "And I want you to come with me."

Blaine just smiled at Kurt with a complete trust. A trust that could only be born from going through what they had.

They were free. They were together. It was never going to be easy, but they knew they were never letting go of each other's hands, for as long as they lived.

FIN