AUTHOR'S NOTE: Hiiiii everybody so I'm sure most of you thought I had abandoned this work and far from that! I am just OBSCENELY BUSY this month and for the foreseeable future, so I never was able to find the time to quickly update a chapter or two because of that. As my schedule is so hectic I'm unsure of when I'll be able to post updates again, but I know that I will once I find time. I've got the first half of this fic completely written and the second half planned out if not written yet. Just give me time, I promise. :) Thank you for sticking with this!
The wide open sea has become something of a nuisance to their eyes; they know the coast of South Africa will be visible soon, but it's like agony to wait for something to look at. But their friends have become a good distraction, and there is something like a book club established between the women after a week, as they pull the novels from their bags. Emily's is a collection of Marlowe; Liesel's own is an anthology of poems from Germany. Both have more books stashed in their room, and as their collections are remarkably diverse, it's a relief to know that their conversations will never dull.
She and Max go their separate ways after breakfast to meet with friends; their dinner conversations are always full of new tidbits that they eagerly share. The rabbi has picked up Max's education of Hebrew, and has extended an offer to Liesel, should she wish to take it. The rabbi is also, surprisingly, fond of card games, and happily teaches pinochle and poker, blackjack and bridge. They're easier with more people, Max explains as he teaches them to Liesel, adjusting the way she holds her cards, correcting her poker face; the men meet on the starboard side every afternoon to struggle through a cheap game or two.
But the warm company is not enough to stop the nightmares, even when he falls asleep with a smile on his lips. She had watched him the past few nights, noticed the exact moment his breathing relaxed, his lips lost their shape and fell open into easy inhalations. Sometimes she would trace his cheek, softly, as she watched his eyes flicker beneath their lids, wishing that her touch could take away his agony. When he moans she finally wakes him, and he kisses her in gratitude. He wants to be as vigilante against her own nightmares, but she tells him not to worry, to sleep. Three nights in a row Rudy's face haunts her eyelids, but when Hans reaches for her on a cratered Himmel Street, she does not sleep the next evening.