Author's Note:

I took the liberty of adding another ship to save the survivors of the Titanic, for the sake of the storyline. I know, of course, that there was never another one. But since this is a work of fiction, I hope you'll forgive me. Also, I had fate interfere with James Cameron's portrayal of Murdoch shooting himself. Since it has never been proven whether he actually shot himself or not, I think this is justified.

Now, to more important things: thank you, LaueeeCarter, for your kind review. I have fixed the grammar mistakes you pointed out. I am glad you like the interactions between Will/Alice and Will/Lightoller. All of them will face difficult times ahead and they sure need each other, even though there may be times they don't realize that.

And thank you, LostarielTuigalen, for the follow.

Chapter 4: Death

"Those who do not weep, do not see."
(Victor Hugo, Les Misérables)

15.04.1912

Captain Smith ordered to begin with the evacuation immediately. Murdoch still couldn't believe it was actually happening. Why, just why, hadn't the ship turned? Why?

"Will, your whistle," Lightoller said and held it out to him.

He stared at the man as if he didn't even know him.

"Will, are you alright?" his friend asked concerned.

"I'll lower the lifeboats on the starboard side. You take backboard," he replied automatically.

"Okay," Charles said.

Murdoch turned, as the other man grabbed his arm. "You know that's not your fault, right? Don't do anything stupid, yes?"

He looked at him one last time, then shook his hand off, hurrying towards the deck.

Outside, chief officer Wilde caught him. "Jesus Christ, Murdoch. What happened?" he asked. He did not sound reproachful, just… confused.

"I don't know," he replied shortly. And it was the truth. He had taken the ship hard to starboard, he had set the engines full astern – it had been the only possible way to avoid the collision – or had he forgotten something? No. No, he was sure he hadn't.

"We have to hurry," he told the chief officer.

The man nodded. "Damn it. This is going to be terrible," he muttered and rushed off.

Murdoch didn't even look after him. Instead, he helped the sailors get the lifeboats ready, his eyes falling onto the lower deck for just a second.

Passengers were standing there, talking, wandering around in confusion – and she was in the middle of them.

Officer Moody walked past him and he grabbed him.

"Are the passengers informed?" he asked.

"Yes sir. The stewards take care of that," Moody replied.

"There are people on deck. Who's taking care of them?"

"I don't know, sir. I…"

"Well, see to it, damn it!" he shouted at the young man, who immediately snapped to attention.

"Yes sir, of course sir," he said and dashed off.

"Bloody hell," Murdoch muttered and took a deep breath. Shouting would not make the situation any better. He needed to stay calm, but it seemed so hard, knowing they would never get all the passengers in the lifeboats; knowing a lot of them were doomed to drown, unless a ship would come for their rescue.

He hesitated for a second, then turned to the sailors: "Get it ready. I'll be back in a second."

He hurried down the stairs and rushed through the hallways. As he jumped around the next corner, he almost bumped into the woman.

"What is happening?" she asked. "We hit, didn't we?"

"The ship is sinking," he said.

She stared at him, wide-eyed. "What?"

"You need a life vest. Where is your life vest?"

"In my quarters, but…"

"Get it. Get it and come back to the lifeboats on starboard. I'll be launching them. I'll get you off the ship," he told her, looking at her insistently.

"But…" she repeated.

He grabbed her shoulders. "We don't have enough lifeboats for all the passengers. You need to hurry. Do you understand? Get your life vest, leave the rest and come back to me."

She nodded and he let go off her. He watched her as she hurried down the hallway, then rushed back on deck, just as Captain Smith came out of the wheelhouse.

"Mister Murdoch," the captain said, his expression like stone.

"Yes, sir?" he asked.

"The next ship will need four hours to reach us."

He stared at him. "But… that's not nearly fast enough," he said.

"I know. I know." The captain looked around, then patted his shoulder. "See to the evacuation. Get as many off the ship as you can."

Murdoch stared at him, but Smith just turned, his steps uneven. The first officer did not know what stressed him out more – the news, or the hopelessness in the Captain's voice. Smith was, after all, one of White Star Line's model captains, an experienced sailor, a man known for his discipline - and now, he had given up on them.


Under deck, Alice rushed to her quarters. The ship is sinking…

It couldn't be. It just couldn't be. The Titanic couldn't sink… Yet, they had hit the iceberg, she had felt the vibration, heard the cry of the ship.

And he had told her, just minutes ago, that the ship would founder.

What disturbed her the most, however, what made it almost impossible to believe that this was happening, were the empty hallways. She had expected a panic, people hurrying around, but it was silent, so very silent.

She opened the doors to her quarters and grabbed the life vest from under the bed, looking at her two suitcases. There was nothing precious in them. The only precious thing she could think of on the whole ship was an officer's coat.

He would get off the ship. They needed experienced people on board of the lifeboats, didn't they? On the other hand, if the officers were needed in the lifeboats when a ship sank, why were there always stories about them going down with the ship?

She stopped in her movements. She was fooling herself. Yesterday, she had fooled herself by painting a picture, silly and stupid, of him getting off board with her when the ship arrived in New York. Now, she fooled herself by painting a picture of him surviving. He would not leave the ship, not if there were still any passengers on board. And he had said there weren't enough lifeboats, so there would be passengers on board when the ship finally sank.

Alice sat down on her bed and took a deep breath. There was nothing she could do – how could she hope to persuade him to leave? What could she even say – stay alive for me, because I think I have become quite attached to your coat and your kindness and your eyes?

She did not even know why she felt this way, or what she really felt – she had met a few men even in her confinement; the baker's son, who had brought them bread, who had played with her in the woods, until it wasn't acceptable anymore for two children of different gender to stroll around together. Or later, her governess' nephew, who had bought her chocolate and told her she had "the most remarkable eyes", only to be rebuked by his aunt. He had only teased her, she was pretty sure of it, but nevertheless, the chocolate had tasted better than it usually had. She had dreamed of Douglas Fairbanks, as probably most young women had, but she had never actually met a man she had felt so comfortable with, so drawn to. Someone she wished to spend time with every day, to listen to, to laugh with.

And now, that man couldn't be saved, no matter how much she wished for it.

Slowly, she rose and put on the life vest.


First officer Murdoch helped the first women and children into the lifeboat, looking at the crowd. What the hell was she doing? Hadn't he been pretty clear she needed to hurry?

For a second, he wanted to leave his current position and rush off to save her, but he knew he couldn't. And he knew he would not. It was his duty to save everyone, not just one person, even though none of the passengers meant more to him.

How had that even happened? He had just wanted to be polite and then, her calmness, her polite interest and her eyes – god damn those eyes – had changed everything.

He shook his head to cast the thought aside, as he suddenly spotted her behind the line of first class men who were waiting for their children and wives to get on the lifeboat.

He made a few steps forward, through the people and took her hand.

"There you are. What the hell took you so long?" he asked and looked at her. "Never mind. Come, I'll help you get in."

He almost dragged her over to the boat, but as he wanted to put her in, she grabbed his arm.

"What about you?" she asked.

I'm going down with the ship, he thought, somehow very certain this would actually be his fate.

"I have to supervise the evacuation. I'll be alright," he replied.

It was a lie and she knew it. For a second, she just stared at him, then she grabbed him tighter.

"I know you are a dutiful man and I should not even be asking this", she said and her voice seemed unsteady. "But please… Promise me that you will save yourself... If anyhow possible… Please."

He stared at her, stunned. I want to invite you to dinner, he thought. I want to invite you to dinner, buy you little pretty nonsense and care for you.

It was stupid, of course. They would not have dinner and he would never buy her useless things. All he could do right now was care for her safety.

"God damn it," he muttered, his voice desperate. "Please, you have to get in this boat. I beg you."

"Promise me," she said again.

"Yes," he replied and that too, was a lie.

She lowered her gaze and finally, let him help her into the boat. He stepped back, his eyes fixed on her, wishing she would look at him one last time, give him one last memory to hold on to. I should have kissed her, yesterday, he thought and that too, was remarkably stupid.

"Take them down," he shouted over to the two sailors.

As the boat began to lower, she finally looked up. She kept her eyes focused on him the whole time and he silently cursed fate and icebergs and the whole ship itself, until the boat hit the water and the two sailors on board began rowing them out of his sight, out of his reach.

"Sir, shall we get the next one ready?" one of the sailors asked.

He did not reply.

"Sir!" the sailor shouted.

Finally, he came back to his senses. "Yes," he muttered. "Get it ready."


He let down lifeboat after lifeboat. At first, the passengers were very calm, most of them not even showing up, immune to the danger lurking in the shadows. But as the water conquered deck after deck after deck, things got messy. Very messy indeed.

At the peak of the turmoil, Wilde suddenly showed up beside him, handing out his revolver.

"Take it, Will. You'll need it more than I do," he said and left.

Murdoch shouted after him, asked him where the hell he was going, but the man didn't reply. He knew he should go after him, or at least sent Lowe to check on the man - but he didn't. The revolver in his hand felt terribly misplaced in that second. He had never been keen on guns. But the crowd in front of him became angrier and angrier, and suddenly, he appreciated the weight of the gun in his hand.

They lowered all the lifeboats, until there was just one left, positioned on the deck above them. He managed to get it down with the help of four other officers, but by the time they were finished, the people were not listening anymore. He tried to reason them, tried to tell them that women and children would go first, but they just didn't listen. He fired a warning shot, but to no avail.

As one man jumped over Lowe, he found himself aiming at him, ready to fire. And he would have fired; he would have shot him down like a dog, if the sea hadn't suddenly washed them over, tearing them down into the cold water.

He lost his grip on the revolver, desperately trying to make out the surface. But the dark water was unyielding and hell, it was cold, so fucking cold.

After seconds that felt like hours, the sea finally calmed itself and he could see a light above him. He swam up, the cold feeling like knives stuck inside his body.

As he reached the surface, he took a deep breath, his body shaking. Around him, people screamed with fear. The lifeboat had turned over, some people trying to turn it, while others just grabbed onto it for safety. He knew it was too late now. They would never be able to get in it.

The Titanic itself was now rising dreadfully in the air, one of the chimneys breaking, falling down into the ocean, onto some passengers, muffling their screams.

The sea he loved so much had turned into a dark pit of chaos, destruction and death. He felt betrayed. Betrayed by his greatest love.

In the near distance, he could spot some lifeboats still way too close to the ship, apparently unable to get away from it. For a second, he did not know what to do. The people around him were impossible to save, at least without a lifeboat. But if he could manage to get one of the boats to safety first and then to turn around, he would probably be able to help them. If they survived so long in the icy waters.

He began to swim, his soaked clothes now feeling way too heavy, dragging him into the deep. As he finally reached the lifeboat closest to him, a familiar voice said:

"Will, damn it!"

He looked up to see Lightoller standing at the front of the lifeboat, holding out his hand. He had never been so glad to see the man. At least, he wasn't alone. At least, there was someone who understood. Lightoller helped him get into the boat and then said:

"Glad you're here, mate. These rich bastards can't even row a boat. Get the left oar, will you?"

He reacted automatically. His hands felt frozen, as the rest of his body, but he grabbed the oar and they rowed the boat away from the ship, away from the screams, away from death.

As they had reached a safe distance, he let go off the oar and rose.

"I need to get back," he said.

Lightoller stared at him. "Are you out of your mind? The water is ice cold, you'll drown in minutes! You'll never reach them!"

"I have to help them!"

"You can't help them, you fool! Now sit down!" his friend shouted.

"Turn the boat around!" he said.

"Are you mental? They'll just throw us over!"

"This is an order, second officer Lightoller!" he said sharply, his hands shaking. Damn, why the hell were his hands shaking?

"I don't give a shit about your orders!" his friend shouted. "When things have calmed down, we'll go back. Now, we gotta take care of these passengers we saved, or do you want them to die as well?"

Murdoch stared at him, then tried to reach the side of the boat.

Lightoller grabbed him at his shoulder. "Sit down or I swear I'll take you down! Don't force me, Will, you know you stand no chance against me when it comes to mere strength!"

Murdoch stared at him, trying to push him off, but he was too strong. With a hard push, Lightoller forced him down. "Get down, you idiot," he snapped. "I'm not losing you as well!"

Eventually, he gave up. He turned his gaze away from his friend, to the ship. The Titanic had broken in two pieces, one already swept away by the sea, the other rising out of it in a vertical angle, before it was finally pulled down as well.

In minutes, the screams faded. Murdoch closed his eyes. The cold had already turned his body numb and he found it impossible to open his eyes again. From afar, he could hear Charles talking to him, but his words did not reach him anymore. He fell unconscious.


Lightoller, however, kept his promise, despite the fact that his friend had already blacked out. After the Titanic had sunken, he turned the boat around and searched for survivors. He found only two. One of them died after half an hour in the lifeboat.

He tried to keep everyone warm with blankets, even wrapping his own coat around his friend, but still, it seemed to take forever until finally, the Livingston arrived and picked them up. He tried to wake Murdoch, but to no avail. Maybe it was for the better. He didn't have to see all the people floating in the sea, lifeless.

The Livingston did not have enough space to offer all survivors a cabin, but two of the officers took them in. Suddenly, Lightoller found himself in the position of changing his friends wet and frozen clothes for something the officers lent them – and he couldn't help but chuckle at the weirdness of the situation. He still chuckled as he stuffed Murdoch under each and every blanket he could find in the room, before finally, his chuckles turned to sobs and he buried his face in his hands, allowing the tragedy to finally sink in.


Alice never turned her eyes away from the Titanic. Even as the ship had sunken, even as the screams had died, she still stared into the night. Beside her, children and women were crying endlessly, but she did not shed a tear. She couldn't.

An eternity seemed to pass before they were finally picked up by the Carpathia. They made room in the cabins for them, but it was very crowded. She found herself in a bed with a little girl that couldn't stop whimpering.

Alice still waited for her tears to come, but it seemed as if her body and mind had raised a wall of numbness, through which no feeling was allowed to pass. Eventually, she closed her eyes and fell asleep, one arm wrapped around the daughter of a stranger who hadn't made it.

On the next morning, she walked up to the deck. Countless people were standing there, some of them just staring into the distance, others searching for their relatives, husbands, children.

An officer approached her, asking her for her name and she gave it to him, finally asking the one question she didn't actually want to be answered: "Excuse me, officer," she said. "I was wondering if… First officer Murdoch, did he make it?"

He looked at her and shook his head slowly. "We didn't pick up any officer by this name, miss."

She closed her eyes. "Thank you," she muttered.

She had known it. She had known it the second he had said he would be alright.

She had known it and still had believed fate would actually have mercy – but fate hadn't been merciful to anyone that night. Finally, she felt tears running down her cheeks, but she wiped them away hastily. It was over. It was just... over.

She looked around the deck and moved forward to the rail. As she stood there, however, her hands wrapped around the steel, her eyes focused on the ocean, she felt nothing. The view she had cherished so much had lost all its meaning.

Slowly, she went back to her cabin and crawled under the sheets, the little girl already waiting for her, wrapping her skinny arms around her.

The Titanic sank – now, we need to face the aftermath. Please, as always, let me know what you think so far.