These characters are not mine. Paul Brennan is fictional, as is Tommy Ryan; James Cameron simply made Ryan up. Oh, and Margaret "Molly" Brown was never called "Molly" in her lifetime. Her friends and family would probably have called her "Maggie" or "Madge". Molly is a pet form of Mary and how she came to be known as Molly is questionable.
Contains slash: Don't like it, don't read.
No Means of Escape.
"I do not know how much longer I shall be able to bear this... this marriage will be the end of me..."
Paul Brennan was withdrawn at every event that he attended on board the Titanic. All of his thoughts were trained on his wedding that would take place on June 2nd.
"What would Elaine say if she found out!"
He winced inwardly at the thought of his fiancée discovering his shameful secret.
Elaine Wynne-Evans, a dark-haired girl that he was engaged to, was traveling with Paul and his mother, Leonore, on the voyage to New York.
Elaine was a kind soul, but she lately seemed as withdrawn as he. Paul feared what would happen to him if he confronted her about the marriage... but he feared confronting his mother even more.
Since his father's death, Paul and his mother had struggled to keep the family business in Portland, Maine. That they had done... but the debts were catching up on them.
Elaine's family was wealthier and would be able to help them... Paul felt everything closing in on him. He was a young man who had so many opportunities looming ahead of him... but too much was happening too fast, and not everything was happening as he wanted.
In desperation, he made his way to the stern railing as fast as he could without causing too much notice. Tears he had held back he finally released as he stood there, weeping silently for his misfortune and anguish.
"This is it. I'm going to do it this time." he thought as he hesitantly climbed over the railing, gazing down into the blackness of the water below...
Unknown to Paul, two dark eyes were watching him...
Still uncertain, Paul waited, watching the froth churned up by the propellers...
"Don't do it-!" a husky, masculine voice came from behind him. It had a clear Irish accent. The sound of the male voice had always stirred Paul.
Paul turned around. A young steerage man was standing there.
Tommy Ryan noticed the tears staining the wealthy boy's cheeks. His heart fluttered as it had when he'd stared at Paul on the 1st class promenade that morning. How the sun played in his golden hair, across his fair skin... somehow he looked like a romantic figure. Now he could see the clear blue of his eyes... those eyes that looked so somber... so conflicted and tormented.
"Stay back! Don't come any closer!" Paul's voice came out hoarse from emotion.
"Here, I'll pull ye back o'er!" Tommy gingerly stepped forward.
"No, I mean it... I'll let go!"
Tommy stared at this young man. He'd seen plenty of hardships in his own lifetime, but this... this boy tugged at his heartstrings. Deciding to soften things, he came closer.
"Do ye really want to do this?"
"You're distracting me. Please!"
Tommy sighed, knowing that he wasn't going to jump. He stuck his neck out, hoping to get some answers.
"What is troubling ye?"
Paul looked back at him. Had he heard right? Was somebody showing concern for him? He eyed this scruffy Irishman, who put his hand out to help him over.
"I'm Tommy Ryan" the steerage man said with a half-smile.
"Paul Brennan." Paul breathed with relief.
"So ye have some o' the Irish in ye." Tommy commented. Both of them chuckled. Paul felt at ease around this man... yet he felt nervous too.
"Well, would tell me what the trouble is?" Tommy asked. Paul began his story, about the engagement to Elaine, his family's debts... but he was hesitant about revealing to anybody his secret love and desire for men. Tommy looked at him sympathetically.
"Ní mhaith leat mná, ní hea?" ("You don't like women, do you?")
Paul looked at him. "Gabh mo leisgéal?" ("Excuse me?")
Tommy was surprised... and amused. "Ye speak the Irish!"
Paul blushed. "Bhoil, tá. Theastaigh m'athair mé 'g foghlaim Gaeilige. Ní theastaigh sé mé a déanamh dearmad ar dteanga... ar gcultúr..." ("Well, yes. My father wanted me to learn Irish. He didn't want me to forget our language... our culture...")
Tommy grinned. Paul melted at that grin. "Sounds to me like we're beginnin' ourselves a wonderful friendship... but again, do ye like women or not...?"
"I beg your pardon?" Paul bristled slightly. He wasn't used to such intimate questions.
Tommy pulled back a bit. "I don't mean for any trouble... I just..."
"No..." Paul sighed. He had to say it to somebody. He spoke low, lest somebody else hear.
"I am of the Oscar Wilde sort... if you know-."
Tommy lit up. "Yes, I know who he is. If you're of that sort, then so am I."
Paul was astonished. "I'm not the only one?" he thought, ecstatic.
"So I'm not alone?" Paul's voice was unsteady.
Tommy smiled reassuringly, "Why would you be? There's only so many people in this world, aren't there?"