"Is there anyone alive out there?" A strong voice called across the watery grave. "Can anyone hear me?"

"There's nothing moving, sir." Replied a voice softly from behind him.

"Don't just sit there! Check them!"

"Yes sir." The young seaman leaned out the lifeboat, his cold hands clasping around the lifebelt nearest and pulling the person close. The face was white, the eyes gazing out at nothing.

He dropped her and reached for another; she was another pot doll, face as still as if it were cast in porcelain. He grabbed another… and another… The icy ocean water had frozen his fingers, but he leaned out again, using his eyes to see where he was hooking his fingers…

Another body…

Another body… A woman with a small child clasped to her chest…

He could feel his whole body tremble, through horror or cold he neither knew nor cared.

"Sir. Here's one." There was a flurry of movement from the few men as the few men as they pulled the body into the lifeboat. A young man… one of the serving staff from the 1st class dining saloon, if the seaman recalled correctly. He didn't know the man's name.

"Is there anyone alive out there?" the officer called again, once he saw the man they had pulled from the water was being looked after. "Keep looking."

The seaman turned back to the ocean, reaching out to pull another body towards him.

They had to keep searching, looking, hoping for survivors.

Tim sighed as he stared out over the crowds of people milling about. He was heading to America; to New York, to be precise. He wasn't going to be there long, not really. It was the Titanic's maiden voyage though, and he had a place on it.

The Ship of Dreams… That's what they called her. Tim could believe it. He had seen the thing and she was beautiful. He watched from the edge of D Deck, viewing the passengers as they hurried up onto her.

"Boy, come on!" One of the crew nearby shouted, he turned and walked inside, straightening his clothing as he headed back into the 1st class dining saloon. "Stand by the doors and be ready to great anyone who comes in."

"Who's going to come here? We haven't even left Southampton yet!" Tim objected, but the man just grinned at him and pointed to a spot by the door.

"Over there, young man." He chuckled, heading over to the kitchens.

"Good afternoon, Ma'am." He greeted a young woman as she strolled in. Her eyes flickered towards him briefly, assessing and then dismissing him. She took a seat at one of the table and fitted a cigarette into its holder before lighting it.

Wordlessly, he moved to stand beside her and handed her a wine menu. Her eyes didn't even look at him this time, she simply pointed with the same disinterest. He took the menu and headed off.

"It's amazing." Whispered one of the other young men as he came to stand beside Tim. "Can you hear the engines? We'll be going soon."

"I know." Tim grinned. "I can't wait to see America!"

"Are you staying?"

"Nah. I'll be coming back with this lovely lady." He smiled gently. "England is my home."

"Indeed. Which wine is it she wanted?"

"Oh right." He got back to work, serving to one, cool lady.

"Hey, what's your name?"

"I'm Tim. Timothy Whistler."

"How do you do? I'm Patrick… Harkins."

"Pleased to meet you." He turned and took the glass of wine over.

"Timothy, go top up the wine."

"Certainly." He grinned at Harold and headed into the crowded dining room. As he was tipping more from his bottle into Sir Archibald's glass, Tim caught the eye of a handsome young man. He was sitting, slouching, in his chair, a cigarette between his thin lips. Tim was captivated.

"Boy! Get this." Snapped one of the men, unimpressed at having an empty plate in front of him. Tim bit back a retort and picked up the dish. With his back turned, he missed the eyes of the other young man skim down his back and over his arse.

"Here." He put the plates on the work surface beside the dish washer.

"How long until we get to Cherbourg?" The man asked, his countenance already tired.

"Another hour, maybe 90 minutes? Or so I've heard." Replayed Tim, straightening his waistcoat.

"Excellent. Go get me some more stuff to clean."

"Yes sir."

Tim managed to manoeuvre himself into position to clear that other man's table. He positioned himself beside the fine man and took a deep breath as he leaned over to pick up the dishes.

"Shall I help you?" The soft voice eased into Tim's ears, taking his attention.

This close, the man's eyes were beautiful, Tim felt his heart flutter. His breath caught in his throat.

"I'm fine. Thank you."

"Indeed you are." Whispered the man, his voice barely more than a breath.

Tim jerked the dishes back to his chest and hurried away. By the sink, Tim leaned against the work top, his knees weak.

"You ill, Timothy?"

"No, sir. I'm fine." The head waiter gave him a slight frown. He headed back out to finish clearing the table.

As he finished, Tim felt a hand slip into his pocket, but he didn't dare stop, too aware of the head waiter's eyes on him from the other side of the saloon.

"You are in the smoke room tonight."

"Yes sir." He turned, fingers sliding into his pocket. They came across a piece of paper, but Tim resisted pulling it out yet; he didn't want to draw attention to it.

"Don't forget to be smart." Called the man after him.

'Meet me on the boat deck, closest to the bow of the ship.

Gavin.'

Tim stared eagerly at the note as he stood leaning against the door. Gavin… They could meet up in a few hours. Tim would be free once the first class men were done drinking. There were a few first class passengers embarking at in France, but Tim didn't have to worry about them.

"Good evening." Tim said softly, a nervous smile flickering across his face. Gavin turned, a relieved grin replacing the worried frown. His hands were twisting together.

"Hello. How do you do?" Gavin held out a hand, and Tim grasped it, his palms sweaty.

"I'm well."

"Do you… Sorry. Do you have a name?"

"Na- …? Oh. I'm Tim." He held out his hand again, before nervously jerking it away, realising they hand already shaken.

Gavin grabbed his hand from where it hung by his side. He clasped it in both of his and brought it to his lips.

"Pleased to meet you Tim. My name is Gavin."

Tim just smiled at him, his heart thundering almost painfully in his chest.

"Is there somewhere we can talk?" Asked Tim softly. He wanted to be close to the man without fear that someone would see him.

"Oh… umm… My cabin? I have my own room, separate from my family. We can speak there."

"Where?" he breathed.

"B Deck."

They moved, lust flooding their senses as they walked smartly towards the stairs, Tim in his waiting suit and Gavin in the clothes he had worn to supper.

Once in the room, with the door locked behind them, Gavin turned and looked at Tim, desire clear in his eyes. Tim made no attempt to resist. He pulled Gavin's head towards his own and their lips met for the first time.

It was like someone had lit a candle; one that burnt brightly inside him. Gavin's arms came around him like a vice, pressing him tightly against the strong chest. He heard a loud, desperate moan, though which of them it was he didn't know.

Heat lanced through him as Gavin's hands slid down the button of his jacket, then up to slide it off his shoulders. As Tim was trying to tug Gavin's clothing off, the man managed to remove his waist coat, his braces, his shirt…

"You're beautiful." Whispered Gavin, his large hands roaming Tim's pale skin. The young man flushed as he facilitated his striping. "Perfection…"

"Not quite." Replied Tim, giving a wry grin as he thought about the scars his childhood had left behind.

"Beautiful." Whispered Gavin again, his eyes softening as he looked deeply into Tim's. "And perfect."

Their mouths sealed together as they fell to the blankets, their movements slow as they took time exploring each other. Gavin's clothing was too removed and they lay together, shy hands growing braver as they slid further down.

"Beautiful." Murmured Gavin again, his eyes dipped in passion as he stared down Tim's chest. Tim would have flushed, had his skin not already been that rosy colour.

"I don't believe in love." He replied, rolling over to pull Gavin from his side and over the top of him. He stared up into the face of a man whom he had only just met but had stolen his heart anyway. "Why are you trying to change my mind?"

"Never." Chuckled Gavin, sloppily pressing kisses down his neck. Tim whimpered and bucked his hips up.

"More." He gasped.

"Everything." Promised Gavin, leaning in to suck a mark over Tim's shoulder, where no one could view it. "Anything."

Tim wrapped his legs around Gavin's bare hips, his eyes shut and his fingers digging into the man's skin as they moved together, as they rocked gently like the Titanic cutting her way through the water.

"I can see you again, right?" Gavin asked softly as he used his shirt to wipe their bodies clean.

"You'd better." Replied Tim, lying casually across the bed, with only a blanket to hide his lower body.

"I will see you again, then." Gavin grinned, leaning over to kiss him. "I am not in America for long, just a month or so."

"I will be returning to England with Titanic. They will not pay me if I do not do my job." He grinned happily at Gavin.

"And we have the whole of this trip."

"We do indeed." Tim pulled Gavin back over him, their bodies shifting as they opened their mouths to one another.

"Gavin?" A woman's voice called from outside the room, accompanied with a sharp knock.

"Yes, Alice?" Gavin stayed where he was, over Tim's body.

"We are heading up from a spot of tea before settling down for the night. Are you joining us?"

"No. I'm tired, dear sister. I think I'll turn in early tonight."

"Sleep well." She called, then there was silence.

Tim stared up into Gavin's kind blue-grey eyes. He wondered if he ought to be heading back up yet. He had no work till the morning, but he was unsure how long Gavin wanted him to stay. He'd never done this before.

"Lie with me a while? I'm sure you have to get back to your own cabin, but…. Stay for a bit?"

Tim felt his body relax; Gavin wanted him to stay. He sat up and pushed Gavin's dressing gown off before pulling him down. Lay across Gavin's naked chest, Tim smiled in contentment.

"I'm sorry if that wasn't what you expected when I asked to meet you." Gavin's voice permeated the silence. "I… don't. I don't ever do that. Never! But you… you are truly gorgeous. I saw you and I knew I had to do something."

"I do not mind at all. In fact, I was thinking the same. I have never followed someone back to their room. I've never even been with someone in this manner… But you are something else. I trust you."

"You barely know me." Whispered Gavin, his voice filled with quiet awe.

"I trust you. Do not ask me why, for I could not answer. I simply do."

"Trust!" Gavin scoffed. "What is that?" But he held Tim firmly to him, pressing a kiss into his hair.

"Do you know the poem 'If'?"

"What?"

"I like poetry. 'If' is a recent poem by a man named Rudyard Kipling. I must have read it a year or two ago, but I copied it into both my poetry books."

"Both?"

"One for at home, and one to take with me."

"Do you have it here?"

"It's in my cabin, but this one I know by heart."

"I wish to hear it." Gavin smoothed Tim's hair out of his face as they lay together.

"I don't know if I remember perfectly… I have never recited poetry since I left school…

"If you can keep your head when all about you
Are losing theirs and blaming it on you,
If you can trust yourself when all men doubt you,
But make allowance for their doubting too;
If you can wait and not be tired by waiting,
Or being lied about, don't deal in lies,
Or being hated, don't give way to hating,
And yet don't look too good, nor talk too wise:

If you can dream—and not make dreams your master;
If you can think—and not make thoughts your aim;
If you can meet with Triumph and Disaster
And treat those two impostors just the same;

If you can talk with crowds and keep your virtue,
Or walk with Kings—nor lose the common touch,
If neither foes nor loving friends can hurt you,
If all men count with you, but none too much;
If you can fill the unforgiving minute
With sixty seconds' worth of distance run,
Yours is the Earth and everything that's in it,
And—which is more—you'll be a man, my son!"

There was silence for a moment before Tim spoke up again.

"I do not remember it all, I'm afraid. I thought I did, but…"

"It's wonderful. Kipling, did you say? Work your way through things without being corrupted…"

"Yes. I got a book of his, 'Rewards and Fairies'. My mother bought it for me when I turned sixteen and started travelling on ships for a living. She wanted me to learn to have a stiff upper lip and not be brought down by those around me."

"She sounds like a good woman. Did you not want to be a seaman?"

"No. I work as waiting staff, but I want to be a chef."

"Working your way up." Murmured Gavin. "Sixteen? How old are you now?"

"Eighteen." Laughed Tim. "I feel we are doing things backwards. May I ask your age?"

"Twenty one." Gavin rolled him over and pressed a deep kiss to his mouth. "And I do not mind backwards, for it has you lying in my arms right now."

"It does." He stretched his neck to reach Gavin's lips again, pushing his tongue forwards into the warm cavern of his mouth.

"Stay a while longer." Muttered Gavin against his lips. "I'll work on your stiff upper lip with you."

"No more than an hour." Replied Tim, his eyes sliding shut as he allowed Gavin to lead them both to passion again.