Pandemonium.

Wives and their children mouthed silent prayers, as one by one the final boats began to be laid in the water. People screamed and cried, the icy air burning their throats as a black sea looked up at them, watching them and waiting.

Humans; Humans were vulnerable.

The ship was unmistakably infallible. Over time they had begun to think that there could be no mistakes, that they had defied the boundaries that held the rest of existence back. An infallible mistake it was, and now the painful inevitability that it was far too late and that there was no going back had begun to settle upon the writing mass of panicking bodies scuffling on deck.

The ship was sinking.

The ship was sinking, and most of them would not survive.

"Stand back! If any one of you try to push through, I'll shoot!" The captain yelled, cocking the gun and pointing it at the crowd. They murmured, and stepped back.

(A watch dropped. A passenger bent down to pick it up. It had been set to New York's time.)

Berwald was a strong man, but his hands were feeling the burn by now, from lowering the fifth boat. Concentrate. That was all he could do now. He grunted, continuing his work, as the English captain with his crowd. On the boat, the women huddled together, muttering, whimpering.

There was one looking up at him tilted his head, puzzled, eyes narrowing.

But then someone tapped Berwald on the shoulder, and mouthed what everyone never wanted to hear, what he had already been preparing for. There weren't enough boats left.

He looked back, and drew a finger down Tino's cheek.

"I want a nice house. With a kid- a fluffy dog, a picket fence, a garden. Bright summers and snowfights. And every Christmas, we'll invite all our neighbours over, and we would, you know, make little gifts and give them out to the children nearby- But then again, that's silly."

Tino smiled distantly at nothing in particular.

Berwald struggled to reply. There was something about the Finnish man that made his breath catch in his throat. Most of the times it was merely because he had nothing important to say, but it was different with this one. Something about him that made him want to protect, and to assure that there, really, was nothing to be scared of about him, but he'd been so used to not saying anything, that when he wanted to, he... couldn't, or at least, not anything sensible.

And so, without thinking, he blurted, "I'd help you."

"H-Help me?"

He waved a hand vaguely at an empty stretch of long grass before him. "Get a house. Fence and garden. Uh, kid."

"Don't say such silly things, Berwald!"

"You... Food?" Tino smiled brightly at the kid, gesturing wildly.

"I think he understands, Tino." Berwald muttered, glancing towards him.

Berwald held his hand out to the boy- he could barely have been around four. With a nod, he beckoned him to take it, but the boy merely ran behind Tino's apron and whimpered.

He scratched his head, exasperated. "We aren't going to harm you, boy."

"Yes, we'll give you some food, clean you up and you can get some sleep, and tomorrow we'll buy you some clothes!"

Berwald shot Tino a look.

Tino, for once, ignored it.

"I'm getting another stint."

"Oh?"

"It's a job. On that ship. The big one."

"It's not safe."

"Safe as it gets. Won't take long."

"I'm coming with you."

"No."

"Why not?"

"You have to take care of Peter."

"No, I'm coming with you."

"Tino, I said-"

He shut his lips with a kiss and held himself to his chest, listening to his heart.

"I just keep having these dreams and..."

"They're only dreams, Tino, only dreams."

"Why are you still there?! Why won't you come down here?"

Berwald gulped, the boat slowly beginning to row away.

"Smile for me!"

"What?"

"I said, smile!"

Peter beamed his brightest, but Tino just bit onto his finger, furrowing his brows, glaring at him.

"I've thought about it a long time, you need to take care of Peter."

"Don't drag Peter into this!" Tino cried, voice cracking.

"Be strong."

He turned his back on the boat, now rowing into the night sea, knowing that he would never see them again.

Then, a tear on his cheek.