The Atlantic ocean was lonely that night...lonely of lives...Though many bodies floated in its waters, almost none were still breathing. On a piece of driftwood-or wreckage?-a young figure laid. His auburn hair was frosted with ice particles, he stared up at the sky with his honey colored eyes, watching his breath turn into a mist cloud as he exhaled. He softly and weakly sang a tune, one he had sung to his friend a long time ago. "Germany, Germany, Germany is a really nice place..."

He blinked as a bright light came into his vision. The young man rolled over onto his stomach to get a better look. His vision swam, but it was just enough so he could tell what the light was. He wasn't dying, it wasn't the light. It was a light from a rescue boat. He heard a voice calling out. His disorientation caused him to only catch a few sounds, but he got the gist. "IS THERE ANYONE OUT THERE? CAN ANYONE HEAR ME?"

His trembling hand reached out and touched the shoulder of an older man, who was about mid-20s. His blonde, slicked back hair was also covered in frost, and he donned a forest green uniform. The younger man moaned, "Doitsu...there's a boat...Doitsu..."

He tried to shake his friend awake, but got no response. Starting to worry, he checked 'Doitsu's' pulse. He was still alive, much to his relief. He looked back at the boat. The light was starting to fade, as was the voice. The auburn-haired man knew he had to do something now or he and his friend 'Doitsu' would die. Hesitantly, he slid his body into the freezing waters. He let out an involuntary gasp, shocked by the sudden flood of cold through his body.

He grasped his friend around the waist, and pulled him along. He swam towards another man in uniform, this one dead. The young man thought, Another man's death is our survival... as he took the whistle from the dead officer. He brought it to his trembling, pale lips and blew. The whistle broke through the silence of the night, catching the attention of the man in the boat. He looked back, waving his lantern toward the sound. "COME ABOUT! WHO'S THERE?"

Auburn-hair kept blowing frantically, until the boat finally reached him and 'Doitsu'. The man in the boat regarded them in shock. "Italy? Germany?"

Italy nodded, pale as snow from the cold. "Y-y-yes...P-please, we n-n-need he-help..."

The man nodded, and he pulled Italy and Germany into the boat. This man had dirty blonde hair and bright green eyes. He also had very thick eyebrows and had a very formal appearance. He turned to one of his compadres. "France, move. In their condition, they need all the space they can get."

The blonde known as France scowled and moved, grumbling and swearing in French. The dirty blonde gingerly set Germany down, pulling a blanket from under a seat. He covered the weaker blonde with it, concern in his eyes. Italy sat down next to his friend, shivering. Dirty blonde looked at yet another one of the occupants of the boat and asked, "America, could you hand me your jacket please? Italy's freezing."

Sandy-blonde haired America looked at his pal, blue eyes wide with wonder. He started taking off his dark brown bomber jacket, replying, "Sure, Britt, here. Make sure he doesn't turn into an ice cube. Oh! Hold on..."

He fished a soggy hamburger out of the jacket's pocket before handing it to 'Britt', who's full name was England or Britain. Depended on who you talked to. England put the jacket around Italy's shoulders with great care, patting the younger man comfortingly before going back to his rowing station. He picked up the oar, rowing in unison with his partner, America. In the very front of the boat, another sandy-haired man with a slightly large nose examined a map. He wore a scarf around his neck, and also donned a trench coat. He pointed at the map, saying with a thick Russian accent, "Ve are here, England, and ve need to get to America's land ower zere. Being in ze middle off ze North Atlantic is no picnic..."

He glanced at America, grimacing slightly as the man took a bite out of the soggy hamburger. America straightened his glasses, smiling despite the tragedy they'd all experienced. And, no, the tragedy was NOT the soggy hamburger. America stated, mouth still crammed with burger, "Well, this is repeating history, isn't it? It's past midnight, about 2:20-something AM, on April 15th. Isn't it kinda suspicious to you guys?"

England nodded, "Yeah, the ship was called the..."

TITANIC: MARK TWO