A/N: With thanks to robspace54, who pointed out my error in the last chapter.


2. A Meeting of Fates

Wednesday 10th April, 1912, 20:15

Anna adjusted her hat one more time in the tiny looking glass hanging over one of the chests of drawers and finally decided that it would do. She felt nervous—her palms were sweaty in her thin black gloves—but she told herself to stop being silly. She had asked Lady Mary earlier if she had anything that she wanted to be done whilst she was dining, but the young woman had said no, that she wasn't required to do anything until ten o'clock, when she'd be retiring for bed after an exhausting first day. So that gave Anna a couple of hours to begin her exploration of the ship. She'd decided to forego dinner in favour of giving herself more time, and it had also made her feel more at ease knowing that Miss O'Brien was in the servants' common room and not harshly scrutinising her every move, making biting comments about how ridiculous she was being. No doubt that she and Thomas would enjoy their evening bad-mouthing her to each other, but she didn't really care what the two disapproving servants really thought.

She'd give herself just an hour today, she decided. That would leave her plenty of time to get back to her cabin and into her uniform again before Lady Mary needed her. She was ridiculously excited about the prospect of having an evening to herself to familiarise herself with the surroundings that would serve as her home for the next week. Leaving the cabin, she began to walk in what she hoped was the general direction of the deck, smiling at the stewards who raced past her performing their duties. She felt relaxed, free, freer than she had felt in years due to the relaxation of the rigid confines that she was used to living within. If this was what the Titanic was going to do for her, then she was going to enjoy the trip to America very much indeed.


21:45

John sat in a corner in the smoking room, exhaling a cloud of smoke slowly, deep in thought.

He'd met up with the other men who would be sharing the cabin with him earlier. All seemed nice, all intent on making something of themselves in the new world, open with the reasons as to why they were leaving their queen and country behind. Two of them had just lost their jobs and had heard that their type of work was eagerly sought in America. Another had recently lost his wife and had decided that the only way that he would ever move on was to migrate to a drastically different place. Still two more were young and had the certainty that they would succeed in life that only the arrogance of youth could. They were all curious about him, wanting to know his story too, about how he'd attained his limp, and his reasons for leaving England behind, but he'd politely evaded answering by stating that England had nothing to offer him anymore. He didn't want to dwell on the past any more than he had to now that he'd left it behind.

The men had asked him to join their little party, stating that they were going out to find some good whiskey, and the desire to join them had been almost insurmountable.

He'd declined. If he started drinking now, there would be no hope for him.

He'd needed a cigarette, though, and had made his way down to the smoking room a little after them, avoiding the bar and huddling in a corner of the darkened room away from the rest of the men who were cheerily tossing the ale down their throats over a game of cards. His cigarette burned like a lifeline between his fingers, the smell of the smoke soothing his soul. He stared sightlessly ahead, lost in the dancing pattern of the smoke. Even now, when they'd left Southampton hours ago, he was still having doubts about what he was doing. He knew it was the right course of action to take. He knew it would be good for him. But that couldn't stop the worry, the misgivings. Would he ever be rid of this uncertainty that plagued his soul?

His mother was a kind woman. She'd always been strict but fair during his childhood, and had been at a loss when he'd fallen on the wrong side of life, blaming herself for his failings. His move to America was not just about him finding happiness and prosperity. So much of it was also about redemption for his mother, to finally put her mind at ease, to reassure her that she hadn't failed him all those years ago. To John, there was no one to blame but himself for the horrible mess he had made of his life. For any mother, especially one with just the single boy, there would always be self-blame for the way that his life had turned out. If there was one thing that John wanted to achieve from his move to America it was to give his mother a reason to be proud of her only son again. He couldn't imagine the shame that she must have endured over the past decade with his reputation as a drunkard and a thief whizzing around her close-knit community.

The taste of smoke had soured in his mouth. He stubbed out the cigarette. He could kill a drink. The whiskey would be sure to burn away the acrid taste.

He stood abruptly. Sweat broke out on his forehead. The change in his pocket tinkled enticingly. He had enough for one. Or two. Twenty. No, he shouldn't. He couldn't.

He had to get out. Fresh air was needed to clear his head, to make him see straight again.

Quickly grabbing his jacket, he pushed his chair back and headed for the exit, the casually furling smoke burning in his nostrils. Once he was outside the door he made his way towards the third class promenade, the sound of his cane marginally muffled by the noise of the other passengers around him. He could hear the sound of squealing children behind closed doors, the sound of excited laughter from the direction of the general room. John shook his head. He had no one to share his fears and hopes with. Perhaps it was better that way.

At last he made it to the deck, and he leaned against the railing with a sigh, gazing out to sea. The night was rather cold, but clear, and he tilted his head back to gaze at the stars above his head. Orion's Belt was particularly bright. Shivering lightly, he pulled his jacket more firmly around him and fumbled in his pocket for his cigarettes again. Flaring one up quickly, he exhaled a cloud of smoke lethargically into the air, allowing it to calm his frayed nerves. It was easier out here, away from the temptation of drink.

A small part of him wondered where Vera was now, what she was doing. It was a dangerous thought, one that his mother would disapprove of. But John had known Vera for many years, had shared her bed and knew every undesirable—and indeed rather desirable—nook of her personality. He'd fallen out of love with her a long time ago, even before he'd been shipped out to Africa to fight the Boers, but until the incident with the silver which had sent him to prison, she'd still been the one constant in his life. He'd had a taste of what life was like without the drinking and the arguments and the hours spent rutting bitterly between the sheets of their bed, and he'd discovered that for all its difficulties, he liked it that way. Despite this, though, it was sometimes hard to break away from everything that he had once known.

Vera ruined you, he told himself. The last thing you need is her turning up again and derailing you. Mother said she was the wrong sort of woman, and she was right. Things will be different now. Better.

He'd never known stars as bright as these. Even the ones in Africa hadn't shone with as much promise as the ones over the Atlantic did.

John Bates settled himself more firmly against the icy-cold railing and brought the cigarette to his lips again.


21:55

Oh God, I'm going to be late.

That was Anna's first panicked thought as she glanced down at the little pocket watch that she had slipped inside her dress.

The second was that she was completely and utterly lost.

How can you possibly be lost on a ship? she scolded herself. It's not like it's the size of America!

And it wasn't like she had been able to wander too far. Although she had been eager to see as much as the ship as she could, she had been turned away various times from the—their words, not hers—less savoury ends of the ship by irate-looking stewards who told her that she was trying to force her way into second class. It wasn't the place for her, they'd told her. She was a servant, therefore she had to stay in the servants' quarters of first class.

Never one to take the rules as an absolution, Anna had not been deterred from her path. She'd already explored some of the rooms in first class earlier on in the evening, and she couldn't help but find them rather repetitive. They were all carpeted, boasting pretty pictures and handsome mahogany furniture. They were nice. They'd certainly been interesting for a housemaid at first, who was only used to very plain and simple things and the familiarities of a life at Downton Abbey. But it wasn't who she was. She didn't belong here, a woman pretending to be a lady, in the dress that she'd had for too many years to admit to and the hat that had been patched up too many times because new ones were too expensive.

So, when she'd grown bored of the endlessly monotonous rooms, she'd decided to find a way to slip past the overbearing stewards to the parts of the ship that would be deemed inappropriate for her.

It had been surprisingly easy, despite the attitudes of the stewards. Anna's mother had often sighed in exasperated affection over her daughter's tenacity, and she'd been determined to explore as far as she could, consequences be damned. When she'd noticed the one lone, frankly quite dim-looking steward reclining boredly against the door he was supposed to be guarding, she'd seized her opportunity and made her way over to him. He had taken one look at her, swelled up like a bullfrog and blustered at the preposterousness that someone from third class had managed to sneak into first class. She'd been ushered down the stairwell into the part of the ship that she fitted in with best.

She'd barely been able to mask her grin of triumph.

And then she'd been free to explore the place where she felt most at ease. Down in third class, children shrieked and darted about the ship, too animated to take note of their parents' half-hearted chidings. Relaxed from the iron rules that the people in first class lived by, the families were happy and pleased, all-too willing to offer her wide smiles and tips of their hats. Anna liked it down here. The relaxed atmosphere made her feel at home. She'd decided that nothing would stop her from visiting it again at some point on her journey. There were still so many places that she hadn't visited. She hadn't gathered up the courage to poke her head into the general room, for instance. And perhaps, if she felt brave enough, she'd buy herself a drink from the bar and mingle. There were bound to be people down here to pass the time of day with, who wouldn't judge her. People she belonged with more than the stuck-up servants who thought themselves better than anyone else because they heralded positions that made them superior to other members of their social class.

In fact, she'd been so caught up in her victory and exploring the new territory that she hadn't given the slightest thought as to how she would get back into first class. Not until she'd leisurely glanced at her pocket watch to realise that her free time had sped away from her like a train out of the station at London.

Which had led her to where she was now, panicking as she dashed across the third class deck in order to find some way to slip back upstairs before Lady Mary or any other member of her family noticed her absence. No doubt that Miss O'Brien's acid tongue would be working wonders if she didn't make it back in time. She'd managed to lose her way quite spectacularly in such a short space of time and in such a small space.

Five minutes.

She would need a miracle.

Anna dodged passed a couple who were strolling by arm-in-arm along the deck; both turned to stare in confusion as she hared across the wooden boards as though her life depended on it. It probably did. She couldn't lose her job out here, in the middle of the ocean, of all places. Her breathing was loud and laboured in her head. Her eyes were clouding over in her effort. In her mind, she saw Miss O'Brien circling like a crow, waiting for the opportunity to stick the knife in with her ladyship. There had to be some way out of this predicament—

She was so focused on getting back to her room that she didn't even have the time to register the next ill-placed obstacle in her path.

A harsh grunt from a solid, well-built barrier and Anna jolted to a heart-stopping halt as she pitched heavily against it, the momentum of her rattled run propelling them backward…

…She had careened straight into something decidedly human. Something decidedly male.

There was a clatter, and Anna gasped as a large hand splayed warmly against her side, preventing her from toppling over as the man found his footing and steadied the both of them. Heart pounding somewhere in the region of her throat, she slowly raised her eyes to the face of her heroic saviour, who had surely prevented her from sprawling her length along the deck and causing herself an injury that she'd be unable to explain to Lady Mary.

A soft face. Dark, kind eyes. Tall, powerful frame. Broad shoulders. Anna felt the blood rushing to her cheeks as she quickly stumbled away from the man, apologising profusely.

"I'm so sorry, sir," she said. "Please forgive me. I didn't see you there—I'm afraid I was a little caught up in my own world."

"It's quite all right," the man said. His voice was soft and held the tiniest hint of an Irish burr. Anna found herself shivering at the sound of it. Or perhaps she was simply cold. There was a chilly wind blowing. "Is there anything the matter?"

"It's silly, really," she said, watching him bend down to retrieve something from the deck. Her eyes widened as she realised that it was a cane. "Oh, I'm so sorry! How terribly clumsy of me! I—"

The stranger waved it away quickly, pressing the cane heavily against his right side. "There's no need to apologise. Really." He smiled at her then. It made his eyes twinkle, and Anna relaxed. "Now, you were about to tell me what was wrong, Miss…?"

"Smith," she supplied, and her heart lurched pleasantly as he extended his hand to her. "Anna Smith."

"John Bates," he replied. His grasp was both firm and gentle, and incredibly warm despite the cold air. "If there's anything that I can help you with, I'd be more than happy to assist. At the risk of sounding presumptuous, you seemed to be in a bit of a hurry before."

"Perhaps you might be able to help," Anna said. Realising that she was still grasping his hand, she quickly let go. Mr. Bates didn't seem to mind. "I'm actually supposed to be in first class, but I appear to be lost."

"First class?" Mr. Bates looked surprise, though he quickly hid it behind an unreadable mask.

"What do you mean by that?" Anna teased, already feeling very comfortable in this man's presence. He had that air about him, as though he was someone that she could entrust anything to, a man of honour and dignity and respect.

Evidently he mistook her teasing to be offence, because he reddened, tripping over his next sentence. "Nothing, of course—I was merely surprised that—"

"It's perfectly alright," she reassured him with a smile. "I know I don't look as fine as the other ladies in first class. Truth is, I'm a maid, and I really should be back in first class to get my lady ready for the night. They're a good family, but I'm not sure how pleased they'd be to know that I was late because I was cavorting in a part of the ship where I'm not allowed to be anyway."

"Well, I can't say I'm much of an expert on the layout of this ship yet," Mr. Bates said, looking relieved that he hadn't offended her. Anna's heart sank at his statement, then quickly rose with his next words. "But I'm sure that I can help you find your way. Although you must tell me if I slow you down. I'm afraid I'm not the fit young man that I used to be."

He indicated the cane that he was leaning on, but Anna was determined not to stare. Or to judge. "I'm certain that it won't be a hindrance at all, Mr. Bates. And I would certainly be grateful for your help. Thank you."

"The entrance won't be that way," said Mr. Bates, jerking his head in the direction of a little door not far from where they were standing. "I came from in there, so I can say with a fair amount of confidence that they won't put the entrance to first class anywhere near the third class bar area."

"I imagine not," Anna agreed as they began to walk. She kept her pace slow, mindful of the oddly lumbering way that her companion walked. Silenced reigned for a moment.

"You mentioned you were a maid," Mr. Bates said. "Is your family visiting New York? I've heard many exaggerated accounts of its unenviable vulgarity from the English people, but I'm sure it's much nicer than we care to admit."

"Oh, no," answered Anna. "Her ladyship has family in Newport. The family are here to visit them. I daresay that we'll visit New York for a few days before returning to England, though."

He smiled at her. His eyes crinkled when he did that, Anna noticed. It suited him. "I myself might choose to settle there when I arrive in America."

"Settling?" She cursed herself for sounding so startled; she wasn't in first class now, she reminded herself. Of course Mr. Bates wouldn't have the luxury of simply visiting America for a few weeks.

"That's right." He smiled again, but it was tighter this time.

"That's very brave of you. I couldn't imagine leaving my entire world behind to move to a different country and start again. What reasons might you have for that?"

"I have my reasons." This time there was no mistaking the finality to his tone. He was still smiling at her, but there was an air of suspicious caution around him. The last thing that Anna wanted to do was make him feel uncomfortable. She had only been innocently curious about him, but then again, her mother had always told her that her curiosity would get her into trouble. It was best to change the subject while she still could.

"Do you suppose we're any nearer to finding the entrance?" she asked him, internally cringing at her pathetic attempt at conversation. However, it seemed to do the trick as Mr. Bates relaxed again.

"I'd like to think that we are. There are only so many places that you can go in third class. It's not as fancy as first class, I'm afraid. The entrance must be nearby."

They rounded a corner as he spoke, and Anna's heart leapt. A little door was ensconced at the end of the corridor. It had to lead to the place where she needed to be. And, thankfully, whoever was supposed to be looking after it was shirking their duty. That was certainly a bonus—she'd be able to slip through undetected.

"That must be it," said Mr. Bates, as though he'd read her mind. He turned to grin at her again. "There we are. We make quite an investigating team."

"We certainly do," she agreed, smiling in return and pausing for a moment in front of the door when they reached it. Glancing around warily—the door certainly wouldn't remain unmanned for long; the stewards were all cautious of the third class trying to invade the more savoury parts of the ship—she held out her hand again. "Thank you for taking the time to help."

"It was a pleasure," he replied, taking her hand. She felt her breath catch in her throat. She was sure her pulse had quickened. She wondered if he could feel it in her fingertips.

"I'd better go," she said quickly, pulling away. She could feel her blood warming her cheeks and hoped it wasn't too obvious—or at least hoped that he'd think that it was from the cool wind outside and nothing more. "At this rate both of us will be in trouble if we're caught lingering around here!"

"Of course," Mr. Bates agreed. "Take care on your way back. And you could always tell your employer the truth—that you were detained by a strange, crippled man. They needn't know just where you were held up."

She laughed, the sound loud in the quiet world which the two of them inhabited. And then she pushed open the door and stepped through.

"Goodnight, Mr. Bates," she said, suddenly feeling very shy.

"Goodnight, Miss Smith," he echoed, tipping his hat politely at her and beginning to turn away.

She watched him take a couple of those odd, awkward steps away from her, watching the way his shoulders shifted beneath his clothes, the gentle strength exuding from him despite his handicap. And suddenly she felt the inexplicable rush of desire to know more about this kind man who had taken the time to help her.

"Perhaps we'll see each other again." The words were out of her mouth before she realised what she'd called after him, and her eyes widened in shock at her audacity of voicing such thoughts. Mr. Bates turned back towards her, his own expression mirroring hers. For a moment she regretted opening her mouth. But then his face softened into a gentle smile.

"Perhaps we will," he said, then continued walking away, the tap of his cane musical against the wooden decking. Anna watched his progress for a moment before shutting the door quietly behind her and mounting the stairs up onto the first class deck. She felt a little out of sorts. Disorientated. As though she'd been starved of oxygen for too long and the new rush of it filling her head was too much for her to take in in one go. Why was she feeling like this? What was it about the man that she had just met that made her feel like a flustered young girl? Anna wasn't quite sure. It was a new sensation, a strange one.

She was certain of one thing, however: she would love to experience it again. And she would. At any cost. She didn't need to question it. She just needed to trust it.

Tomorrow, she would seek Mr. John Bates out again.