Beyond
A/N: I was sick and watched Titanic and this came to my mind. Don't know why. Funny how the brain works.
Summary: First officer Murdoch meets Alice Khairay, the bastard of a rich English man, transferred to America to cover a scandal. She fascinates him, but as the ship sinks, they are separated. As they both meet again, he faces charges against his actions during the sinking. Despite her background, his lawsuit and the demons haunting them, do they have a chance?
Rating: T. Might change to M in later chapters.
Chapter One: A bastard
11.04.1912
It was 1:30 p.m. as the RMS Titanic left the port of Queensland, Ireland, finally heading for her real destination, New York. First officer Murdoch left the bridge, handing over to Pitman, and looked forward to a quiet nap in his cabin, as his eyes fell on a group of first class passengers on the promenade. Most of them were women, chattering and whispering, pointing at something on the deck below. Murdoch blinked irritated, feeling alert. Had there been an accident? A punch-up? He hurried over to the promenade, stumbling against Lightoller who came around the corner.
"Sorry…" he muttered, looking up. "Oh, it's just you."
Lightoller raised his eyebrows. "Just me, huh? Thought you'd bumped into one of your high class friends?"
"They are not my friends", Murdoch replied.
"True words. But I guess it doesn't hurt to play extra nice for them, huh? Might get you some extra cash."
"I don't…"
"Anyway, why are you in such a hurry? If the kings and queens want a tea, that's what the stewards are for", the second officer said with a grin.
Murdoch shot him a glance, feeling his cheeks redden. "There's some sort of an uproar", he said.
"Uproar?" Lightoller asked and followed his glance to the promenade deck. "Ah. Calm yourself. They're watching the bastard show."
"The what?" Murdoch asked irritated.
"The bastard show. Haven't you heard? Apparently, some rich English man had an affair with an exotic woman – middle-east or something – and now, the child is too old to be hidden in a cottage and sent as far away as possible, to good ole America. She didn't do too shabby, I suppose, with a second class ticket on the Titanic. However, the ladies and gents of the first class naturally have the desire to satisfy their craving for sensation. They've been staring at the poor thing since we left Southampton. Can't blame the men, though. She sure is something you don't see all days, with that skin color", Lightoller said. "Still, no reason to upset the apple cart." He patted him on the shoulder – Murdoch hated that – and strolled off.
The first officer stopped and hesitated, unsure whether to believe Lightoller or not. The man surely had a thing for exaggerations. But even though he couldn't believe a single woman could cause such an uproar, he also knew how petty-minded upper class people were.
He looked at the group of first class passengers again, then decided to go down to the second-class deck and see for himself if the story was true at all.
As soon as he had taken the stairs down and walked onto the deck, he could see Lightoller probably was right. The focus of the attention was indeed a woman, standing on the rail. All of a sudden, he felt rather sorry for her. She appeared to be alone and he was quite sure she had noticed the stares, even though her back was turned to the spectators. Maybe she didn't know what to do.
He approached her slowly, fully aware of the stares now also focusing on him.
"Shall I lead you to your cabin, miss?" he asked politely.
The woman turned around. The features of her face – the green eyes, the high cheekbones and the dark lashes – added up very nicely. Still, she would never be defined as beautiful, with a skin complexion so bronze it matched the color of a farm worker's arms after a hot summer.
"Excuse me?" she asked.
He cleared his throat. "Shall I lead you to your cabin, miss?"
At the end of the sentence, he shot a small glance at the upper deck. Her eyes followed him, before she looked at him.
"You are very kind", she said. "But I do not wish to spend the whole journey in my cabin. Unless my presence and its… side effect… is a disturbance."
"No, miss. I just thought you might feel uncomfortable."
"I am", she said with a small, rather sad smile. "But I enjoy the view more than my comfort."
"Very well, miss. I'll leave you be", he said and turned around.
"Thank you, officer…"
He turned back to her. "Murdoch, miss. First officer Murdoch."
She looked at the stripes on his shoulder. "I apologize. I do not know much about ranks. Sailor ranks, that is."
"No reason for an apology, miss."
She nodded slightly. "Thank you, first officer Murdoch."
"You are welcome, miss", he replied and then finally, left towards his cabin.
Her followers, however, did not.
Alice Khairay left dinner early, as always and proceeded back to the promenade. She did not know why she felt such a fascination for the view of the endless ocean, but it had a calming effect on her. Maybe it just added to her hope that in New York, she would finally be able to walk freely, without being stared at. Maybe, in a town like New York, she would also find some people who didn't care about her past. Or her skin tone.
Not that she was ungrateful. She knew, for a bastard, she had had a very decent life. Her father, having no other children of his own, had ensured she had had a good education and her grandfather had used all his connections to get her a job in New York.
Still, she could not shake up the feeling of isolation. She had thought, maybe childishly, that on a ship, people would tend to forget social stigmata and be more open towards strangers. She had been mistaken.
Suddenly, a now familiar voice behind her said:
"Are you still here, miss?"
She turned around, slightly surprised. "First officer Murdoch. Good evening."
"It appears your followers have gone", he said.
She looked at the upper deck. "I suppose dinner takes more time in the first class."
"You should not spend all time on deck, miss. You might catch a cold", he said.
She blinked her eyes, surprised by his care. Or maybe it was just curiosity. Anyway, he was the first person to talk her – except for the stewards – and whatever his reasons were, she felt rather grateful for it.
"Well, at least I don't have to fear a tan", she replied. "Otherwise, I might need to wear one of these ridiculous hats."
For a second, he appeared to grin, but his expression changed back to professional politeness in an instant.
"Has anyone been rude to you, miss?" he asked.
"Rude? Oh no. Everyone knows exactly how to behave, even in the second class. No talking to wrong colored strangers", she said, but to his surprise, her voice didn't sound bitter. Just… resigned.
"Do you travel alone?" he asked.
"Yes. My father has been very kind to buy me this ticket; I would not have wanted him to spend even more money. After all, our voyage does only last six days", she said, fully aware that this was just another no-go in the eyes of the many. A young woman, travelling alone, without the protection of a family member or a husband – she supposed a lot of the women on the ship suspected her to have set out to find a husband. As if that was anyhow realistic in her position.
"And your mother?" he asked.
She looked at him, without answering. She herself had heard so many stories about her mother, all of them false, that she couldn't help but wonder whether he was just making conversation or trying to confirm which of the stories he had probably heard was true. Either way, it did not really matter.
"I apologize, miss. I should not have asked", he said hurriedly and his cheeks reddened slightly, making her believe him instantly.
"It is alright. I was just wondering which story you have heard. They… vary", she replied calmly.
"I have not heard much, miss. Just… that your father is a rich English man and your mother an exotic woman from the middle-east."
That indeed was not much. On the other hand, why should he care? She was one of 2.200 passengers on board and besides her skin color; there was nothing special about her.
"My father is indeed a rich man. My mother is the daughter of an Egyptian merchant. But I have heard stories in which she either is an Egyptian princess, or a whore. None of them are true, of course. Sadly, I suppose. If my mother was a princess, I would at least have a title. Even if it was just a foreign one", she said.
"One does not need a title, miss", he replied.
She looked at him. He had blue eyes, she realized, like the water underneath them.
"Doesn't one? You have a title."
"I don't think first officer is a title that satisfies the upper class, miss."
"No, I suppose not", she said. She wondered if it meant something to him – the acceptance of the rich people. Some years ago, as a teenager, she herself had wished she could be in that circle – going to balls, meeting young gentlemen, wearing expensive dresses – but she had realized very soon that this was never going to happen, no matter who her father was.
"Does it satisfy you?" she asked, but it was more a rhetorical question. He seemed perfect for the job – maybe it was just the way he wore the uniform, or the way he walked, but something told her he really liked being an officer on a passenger's ship.
But to her surprise, he just looked at her, remaining silent.
She blinked her eyes. "It doesn't."
He smiled – but it appeared forced.
"I am sorry. I shouldn't have asked", she said and turned her gaze back onto the sea, awaiting him to leave her. Yet, he didn't. Instead, he stepped closer to the rail himself, leaning his arms onto it just like she did.
"Actually, I should have been chief officer. But our superiors had a change of heart", he said after some more minutes in silence.
She turned her head slightly towards him. "Was there a reason for this?"
"If there was, I do not know" he replied, his eyes still fixed on the ocean.
"You are disappointed", she stated.
"Of course. Being chief officer on a ship like the titanic – it sends a signal. But being announced chief officer at first and then downgraded to first officer… Well, I suppose this sends a signal, as well."
"I understand", she said.
He looked at her and surprisingly, believed her. He wanted to say something, as suddenly, a male voice behind them said:
"Hey Will, where the hell are you? We've been searching for you."
Murdoch muttered a low curse and turned around. "I am on my way, Charles. I just… helped the lady."
The second officer looked at the woman and grinned. "Of course. We all know how helpful you are, Will, though it's mostly for the first class. No offense, miss."
Alice looked at the other officer, then at Murdoch whose face had immediately gone dark. She knew she was supposed to leave and felt rather sorry, though she did not know if it was for the view, or for the conversation.
"I am sorry, first officer Murdoch", she said politely. "I did not mean to hinder you from your duties with my questions."
"You are welcome, miss", he replied, but did not look at her again.
She stepped forward, past the two men and started walking back to her quarters.
Lightoller punched his colleague slightly. "Never knew you had a thing for mulatta, Will", he said loudly and Murdoch suddenly felt the wish to punch him right in the face. Instead, he punched him back rather hardly. "Don't be silly", he hissed.
The other man just laughed. "Oh, don't be so grumpy. I don't blame you, she's quite good looking. She'd be even better looking if she hadn't the color of the working class, though. Now, come on, we're ready for a little poker game. You still owe me ten bucks, by the way." And with that, Lightoller hurried back inside.
Murdoch cursed again, shaking his head. Lightoller had always had a big mouth and a vivid imagination. The stupidest thing about it was that he was often right. He had been partly right as he had teased him about "his helpfulness being usually limited to the first class".
Murdoch couldn't deny he had always been fascinated by these people. They had everything they wanted, they were accepted and respected and most of them did little for it, while he had worked very hard to obtain a position his superiors had just taken away from him without a cause. Sometimes, this injustice left him in a rage he couldn't quite explain.
Still, Lightoller was completely wrong about his intentions with the young lady. He pitied her, that was all. True, he also found the calmness radiating from her very appealing, but not in a romantic way. He sighed, turned around one last time to look at the ocean, then left the rail to follow his fellow officer.
A/N: Well, in case anyone is reading this, I hope you liked it. If you want to leave a review, good or bad, or if you have any suggestions for me, don't hold back. I am thankful for every critic.