Ahhh, I was worried I wouldn't get this one done but I managed it...!

Thank you to: gracezilla, thinkingthatifpeoplewererain, IcarusWing, Guest, another Guest, Lamashtar Two, Kaori, Iggy Butt, Empress Vegah and jagaimo-chan!

Monday 3rd May, 1915

He had seen very little of Arthur today; he was on the night watch between eight o' clock and four in the morning and had spent most of the afternoon asleep, leaving Alfred to his own devices.

Altogether, Alfred admitted that it wasn't unwelcome. Things between he and Arthur were tense, their brief interactions between Arthur's shifts sparking and volatile. Before Arthur went on duty he was stressed and harried, trying to squeeze in work between other obligations; and after he came off, he was hungry and tired and seemed to just want to drink and smoke the night away, forgetting that the war existed. Either way, there hadn't been much room for repair and so their clash of the morning before, just after the church service, remained in the air (though Arthur seemed to have more or less swept it aside). Alfred, though it was constantly on the tip of his tongue, decided not to bring it up again, certain that all he'd get for his trouble was a lecture on the Selfishness of Isolationism and didn't he know that he really should jump in while the going was still good?

Arthur was at his happiest when he was at war, however much he might complain about it; this wasn't a new concept to Alfred, who had watched him come back to Boston after months of fighting in Europe, his body battered and his face glowing. It didn't bring out the very best in him, as such, but it brought out something, the absence of which had been obvious in the bloated dormancy of Edward's reign, the resentful overweight creature that had made a grave of the RMS Titanic.

It seemed unfair to Alfred that Arthur always seemed to get what he wanted; when, so very often, what he wanted was a dreadful thing.

And as to the Titanic, they were sailing over the same waters which had taken her on that April night; it was dusk, the sky painted in rich purples and cold blues, and the Lusitania picked her smooth and careful way through the glowing castles of ice drifting by on the vast waters. They plumed against the sky like the sails of great ships of bygone days: just as he remembered seeing them at the break of dawn in the lifeboat, impossibly vast, larger than any great liner the humans could make. The Titanic had been nothing, a mere flake of human fancy, and so too was the Lusitania, for the peak of the icebergs, even at a distance, seemed so much higher than her funnels.

Somewhere beneath - and how peculiar to think - the Titanic lay on the the ocean floor in two pieces, surely crushed beyond all recognition. Taking his cigarette between his teeth, Alfred put his hands to the rail and leaned over the side, looking down at the midnight waters rushing past. Nothing.

It was getting cold. He shivered and straightened up again, folding his arms over the rail, exhaling on his cigarette. He hadn't gone to dinner in the First Class dining suite, toying with the idea of sneaking into the Third Class saloon before opting for something light in the privacy of the verandah cafe; he wasn't in the European way of fancy dinners and their social aspects, nor indeed did it matter to him that he hadn't received an invitation from this lord or that politician to the smoking room. He was thinking, in fact, of heading to bed soon, maybe reading for a while, forgoing any and all interaction with Lusitania's high court. It wasn't his job to hold Arthur's candle for him in his absence.

He finished his cigarette and tossed it over the side, watching it spiral into the sea; and straightened up, his back popping as he arched it, hands clamped on the rail.

"Oh, I felt that."

Alfred turned towards Arthur, startled.

"Don't sneak up on me like that!" he said crossly.

"I'm not," Arthur replied candidly; he took a sip of his tea. "What on earth are you doing?"

"Nothing. Just smoking." Alfred looked away irritably. "What are you doing?"

"I'm on my rounds."

Alfred side-eyed him, raising his eyebrows.

"With a cup of tea?"

"It's a perk." Arthur turned the saucer towards him; two plain ship's biscuits were perched there. "Do you want a biscuit?"

Alfred took the top one moodily, not really because he wanted it but more out of spite: because he didn't want Arthur to have it. He bit into it with a snap, crunching it up.

"Hard as a rock," he muttered through his mouthful.

"At least they're not full of weevils," Arthur replied, shrugging. He bit into his own, chewing in silence for a moment; at length he swallowed and nodded towards a purpling iceberg gloaming in the distance. "Look at that brute. Twice the height of us just on the surface, I expect."

"Don't you have somewhere to be?" Alfred asked coldly, looking at him.

"Oh, don't be like that," Arthur sighed. "And don't worry yourself about the icebergs, either: hard lessons were learnt that night, Alfred. We'll be slowing right down once it gets dark, we might even stop for the night, and that besides, the Marconi lines are operated at all hours in case of an emergency. I believe there are at least two other ships nearby; the Mauretania, in fact, is coming the other way. We should be passing her very soon."

Alfred simply gave a stiff nod, finishing his biscuit. Arthur looked down at his tea for a moment before giving a sudden shake of his head.

"Well, anyway, you're distracting me," he said absently. "I'd better get to back my rounds."

Alfred snorted.

"You've got that right," he said coolly. "I'm pretty sure that's all I'm here for: to distract you."

"Alfred, here's the reality," Arthur replied dangerously. "Nothing I said yesterday morning was untrue. Perhaps you ought to give that some thought." He nodded crisply to him. "I'll see you later. Good evening."

He stalked away without another word, clearly annoyed; not that Alfred much cared, really quite irked by Arthur's official, merciless manner. It was as though (and Alfred had though this of him before) he often forgot that they were almost human, beings with thoughts and emotions, and became devoured entirely by nationhood. It was clear that, at this present time, Arthur didn't really see him as Alfred, a friend and a lover; England, rather, saw him as America, an ally, a brother-in-arms, a lifeline - and became impatient, frustrated, when Alfred flatly refused to be anything other than Alfred.

England couldn't understand the icebergs.

Somewhere between the groaning of tearing metal and the lights plunging out, the entire stern rising from the water like a monstrous siren, the funnels ripping from their moorings and tumbling like spent casings from a rifle, the foam on the black sea devouring Titanic Liverpool-

Alfred sat up in bed with a shout, the terror lacing in his heaving chest like an iron corset, so heavy that he could barely breathe as he shuddered in the blackness. He gasped for a long moment, disorientated, wondering just where the hell he was; because it wasn't the lifeboat, it was too hot and too dark and too loud, the sea had been silent that night after she had gone - and no, he could definitely hear the workings of a ship whirring many decks beneath, breathing up through the wood and iron.

Lusitania. He tipped his head back with a groan, his heart pounding; the bedroom was pitch black and so he reached out, feeling blindly for Arthur.

He wasn't there.

"Night shift." He rubbed at his temples as he remembered. "God damned night watch..."

He hadn't had a nightmare about the Titanic in many months; frankly he'd been fearing their relapse on the first night on board the Lusitania, for the rock and sway of the Carpathia had done them no favours, and had been relieved at their absence the first two nights.

This was the first night Arthur wasn't beside him, however.

In spite of his lingering annoyance at Arthur and his callous behaviour, he desperately wanted him now, to be wrapped up in his arms and soothed back to sleep; it was a childhood comfort, Arthur was good at chasing away nightmares even whilst half-asleep. During the two years they had spent as government fugitives, that had been Arthur's half of the bargain. They had been so good for one another then.

Alfred reached out a shaking hand and put on the bedside lamp, the room filling with a warm glow; he squinted against the sudden glare, seeing the other half of the bed unslept in. All he had for companionship was Arthur's white uniform, hanging like a straight-backed skin from the wardrobe door.

He lay down again in the light, one arm beneath his head, and looked at the wall. His breathing was beginning to slow - and his heart, too, was finally calming, though his skin still prickled all over with the residue of a fear that he had known firsthand.

He wished he couldn't hear Lusitania. Hearing her meant that she was still moving - just like Titanic. He had seen the icebergs. He knew they were there.

He was drowsy, on the verge of falling asleep again, when the bedroom door finally opened and Arthur came in; the smell of tea came with him and Alfred, who sat up on his arrival, saw that he was carrying a small steel teapot in one hand.

Arthur seemed surprised that the light was on, turning immediately towards the bed.

"Goodness, are you still awake?" He checked his pocket watch. "It's past four in the morning."

"I woke up and couldn't get back to sleep." Alfred chose his tone with some care, mindful of not sounding too needy - when all he wanted was for Arthur to get his ass into the bed. "...Why have you got a teapot?"

"I fancied a cup of tea before I go to sleep," Arthur replied. "So I pinched this from the Officer's Mess. I'll put it back on my next shift."

"Okay." Alfred bit back a plethora of snide pirate comments and lay down again. "Come to bed soon, though - so I can put the light out."

Arthur simply shot him a meaningful look before putting the teapot down the desk and going back out to the parlour; he came back with two Cunard Line teacups, delicate little things with gold rims. He poured out both cups, the fresh, clear scent filling the room, and brought them to the bed, putting one on the bedside table next to the lamp, a gorgeous Nouveau thing of coloured glass, reds and blues and greens and a flash of orange in the hearts of orchids; and these molten colours swam on the amber of the tea as Alfred eased himself up to take it.

Arthur sat on the edge of the bed, crossing one leg over the other, and sipped at his own tea, giving a tired sigh. He rolled his shoulders with a pained grunt.

"We're clear of the ice field, you'll be pleased to know," he said after a moment.

"That's good," Alfred sighed over his tea. He closed his eyes. "...I had one of those nightmares."

"I suspected as much." Arthur looked at him. "Are they as frequent?"

Alfred shook his head.

"No, it's been months, I just..." He gave another sigh, rueful and defeated. "It was probably looking at the icebergs that did it."

"That's highly likely."

Arthur's tone was absent and closed-off; Alfred looked up at him through his eyelashes as he took another mouthful of tea. Even without his glasses, he could see how tired he was, the weariness was electric in the way he was gazing at his own uniform, hanging over the back of the door, waiting for him.

"Hey." Alfred slipped his bare foot out from beneath the sheets and prodded Arthur with it. "I don't... I don't want us to fight, Arty."

Arthur looked at him with a weak smile.

"We're not fighting," he said gently. "If you want to see a fight, come and look at what we've done to Francis' land, Ludwig and I."

"W-well, I just-"

"But it's nice of you to say so." Arthur leaned over to put his cup on the bedside table. "I mean it. At a time like this... it's a lovely thing to hear." He came closer and wrapped his arms around Alfred, cuddling him close. "I know I've been unspeakable to you."

"...It's okay." Alfred pushed his cup away, too, and returned the embrace, burying his face in Arthur's chest, the smell of wool thick in his nose. "I forgive you."

"Hm." Arthur stroked his hair fondly, his voice very soft. "...Yes, I can always count on you for that, love."

OHOHOHOHOHO I DON'T KNOW ABOUT THAT, MR KIRKLAND

More tomorrow, guys! Thank you so much for your support so far! Glad to hear people are enjoying the story!